HUMAN POULTRY by Regis

Feature Writer: Regis

Feature Title: HUMAN POULTRY

Published: 11.11.2022

Author’s Notes: This story is entirely fictional, and does not represent what should ever happen to anyone, regardless of race, gender, age, religion, standing, politics or whatever metrics you use to distinguish, divide or categorize people. Things you will read about here should not ever happen, but recognizing a dynamic human condition, maybe on some occasion, under some dark, devious circumstances, they do.

Human Poultry

CHAPTER ONE

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, and perhaps they would grab the half-million in jewelry her father had given her, just for being nice to his friends when they visited, 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, mostly exposed, were blown wide open, spraying pinkish tit meat and blood across the rich green velvet of the card table. Carla had never before witnessed extreme violence, and she started to violently shiver uncontrollably.

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 there were so many that soon the screaming ladies were stacked three deep.

An Arabic woman, also masked and armed with a riding crop appeared, and one by one pointed at individuals and told the selected 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, judging each.

The humiliating 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.

All of the ladies who graced the tables were of 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.

She had to bare her pretty cunt for the lady, and others could easily see it. 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 also for inspection.

Like the others, she 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, there were only a handful that had been sorted out.

The fifteen young ladies who had finally 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 for the barbecue. 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 were 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 fifteen selected 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 delivery truck would suspect that instead 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 traveled, 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.

666

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 their wrists were unbound so that they could climb down a coarse wooden ladder and into rubber dinghies, commonly known as Zodiacs, after the first manufacturer of these durable craft. The girls were seated on the rubber edge of the boats.

There were four of the inflatable boats, each mounted with a powerful outboard motor. Tonight the Mediterranean was unusually calm, and the sky moonless. When all of them were aboard, including the guerillas and the two large wooden butcher blocks, their wrists were re-tied behind their backs.

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 safely under the sweep of harbor 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 quietly at idle at first, then they slowly sped up, until they were skimming quickly over the gently 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 Zociacs pulled up alongside the rusty old ship, the young ladies’ wrists were once more untied, and the girls climbed up a broad rope ladder.

This was no easy feat in their evening gowns and stiletto heeled shoes, but the skirts were extremely short on most of the highly revealing dresses, and the encouragement of the machine guns behind them had the select gorgeous cunts climbing like a team of elite storm troupers.

On deck armed crewmen met the fifteen frightened ladies, and they were escorted down into the ship’s dingy hold. There they were placed in steel cages, and allowed hammocks to rest in for the remainder of the brief voyage. Their gags were removed, which made breathing and moving easier in the heat of the hold.

The heavy 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 any sense of direction.

Clearly their Arab abductors were aware they could be followed, and were taking every precaution to avoid any detection. Several hours after darkness had arrived, the women were awakened, and taken out of the steel cage, to be transferred to three large wooden crates.

The distressed girls were packed into the crates like nothing more than farm animals, as if they were on their way to market. The gorgeous young women were once more gagged and their arms were tightly bound behind their backs. They sat on the uncomfortable bottom of their crates, five in each.

They were just getting settled, 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 there was nowhere to do so, and she was so anxious 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. Their gags effectively stifled their ability to cry out for help. 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 West 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 damp and 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 traveled 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.

She had found that to be extremely humiliating. A panel of young men, a dozen fraternity seniors the girls had assembled, did a “cherry” inspection of the new recruits with their fingers, to identify any virgins. She had been the only one who still had an intact hymen.

The hazing party had devolved into a gang rape of the sorority recruits, and they had saved Carla for last, and the only person not a student, who she learned was the Dean of Residence, had the honor to deflower her in front of all the others. She had carried that humiliation with her ever since.

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.

666

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 seawater sloshing in it. The fifteen women had quickly exceeded the sanitary limits of that insufficient can, that overflowed.

The remainder of the girls pissed on the floor of the little washroom. The disgusting bus trip lasted several hours, and when the big vehicle finally came to a stop, they got off in the desert at what appeared to be an abandoned airstrip. An old DC-3 was warming its engines when they arrived.

The ancient aircraft 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 at last airborne, there was not the usual tilt associated with climbing.

There was also not 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 they 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 they 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. Everything was pre-planned, to the smallest detail. They clearly knew what they were doing, and had likely done the same before.

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 thoroughly 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 once again out cold.

666

Carla felt the coolness she had been enjoying become a chill, and she reached reflexively for her sheet and blanket. There was none. She was lying uncovered, and was stark naked. She realized that her arms were numb, and that she had not moved them for some time.

She lifted her head, and found herself lying not in her bedroom in her comfortable bed with its satin sheets and goose down comforter, but was uncovered, on one of fifteen small straw-filled mattresses laid out on the floor, without so much as a pillow for her head.

She shook her head, feeling as if she had taken too much liquor, and remembered being drugged. Trying to move her arms, she discovered her wrists were still 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 kidnapped lying stretched out, all of them 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 these people had violated her person. They had stripped her nude while she slept, and had moved her into this strange place.

What about that 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, deep into the Libyan desert.

From there the aircraft could have taken them in any direction. They could be anywhere from Cape Town to The Hague. As far as she knew, they might even be in Moscow. 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.

What made those unlikely destinations was that none of them was an Arab city, and there was no doubt her captors were Muslims, and were likely Arabs. 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 wealthy father, and the fathers of the other girls captured with her. 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, were all in their late-teens. Each wore a cute little outfit with a frilly hem that was so high it was totally immodest. She was about 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.

The movement of the tight restraining garment rubbed and kept their pink milk-wart nipples elongated. Carla guessed the youngest of these girls was perhaps fourteen, 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 sixteen, 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 to cover their pert little clean-shaved pussies.

Modesty had no place in this setting. When the maids 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 open fold of their impudent vaginas, revealed with any movement, was either shorn or plucked clean of hair.

Their vaginas were beautiful young sex organs, possibly virgin, and the delicate petals of their inner organ were painted with a skillfully chosen pink lipstick that matched their lips and nails, to add to their visibility. Naked cunt was obviously highly valued here.

These girls were all quite naughty, purposefully giving everyone present extended glimpses 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.

The lower point of the hair heart touched the flesh hood of their naked clits. She found them to be both attractive and sexually stimulating, even with her personal elevated level of anxiety. The maids were distributing large steel rings that appeared to be collars 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, as if these rings were unbroken. Carla wondered how they were possibly 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 quite attractive on the slender necks of their otherwise naked wearers.

Because they fit so tightly, the captive women wore them at the narrowest point high on the neck, right up under the chin. Only Carla refused to put on one of these confining collars. As 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 an extremely high hemline that fully revealed their hairless and masturbation-engorged vaginas. Both of these tough looking ladies had well-tanned muscular legs, and wore spike heeled shoes, which made the most of their well-muscled bodies.

Their tans accentuating the musculature of their powerful 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 and evaluated 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. Carla wondered what else they were expected to know, and how they could possibly know what had never been articulated. She felt trapped in a logical clef stick, with no chance to win.

“Shown what?” Carla responded defiantly, “What are you going to show us? What kind of market? What are you going to present us with?”

Her voice moved to a very high pitch with her growing anxiety. The women laughed and left the room, followed by the giggling young maids.

Carla found, as did the others, that her collar was the least uncomfortable 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 kidnapped gathering.

She also realized that they served as a minimalist 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. Their situation had elevated to totally desperate.

CHAPTER TWO

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 tight steel 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.

And then she realized it would be worse to be owned by someone she did know. She had a more disturbing thought. What if she was going to be fucked by her owner or a stranger? That was what she knew usually happened to white slaves. She had read more than she wanted to know about it.

They used women as nothing but 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 no others of those in the sorority. To preserve her virginity, she believed, she had been given a row of coke to sniff, then had been raped anally, which left her with a very sore rectum to show for it.

When all of the fraternity boys had buggered her, the Dean of Residence had been given unrestrained use of her as his personal conquest, and he brutally deflowered her, thrusting his penis deep and repeatedly into her cunt, to the cheering of everyone at that disgusting sorority party.

Two of the other girls at that party got pregnant from the gang rape, and as part of the sorority tradition, were required to have abortions. The well-known sorority took care of its members, but at a cost. A notorious Madam hosted a party at her bordello.

In front of several paying customers, she performed the crude abortions in the same way she took care of her prostitutes, at public events, with a knitting needle. That was all part of belonging to a sorority, and the girls all had to put themselves at risk to belong.

At least they had done it in December, just before Christmas, when their little sprogs were only three months along, and not late term abortions, where the baby had to be dissected inside the womb, and the parts brought out. That would have been absolutely disgusting.

It was awful, and almost cost them their education and their fathers’ generous lifetime allowances. Carla was certain that if she were sold as a white slave, she would be required to fuck strangers every night, and perhaps even do other dirty things with them, as well as probably become pregnant. 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 a box of Bic disposable razors. They gave the nude captive women total body shaves from the neck down, removing absolutely all of their body hair.

It was a treat to be cleaned, and the maids made the shaves fun, pampering the naked captives. The only part some of the women found objectionable was the removal of their pubic hair, but the girls, speaking fluent French, explained it was necessary, as they were ordered to do it.

They explained 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 had obviously been 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 to be very 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 willingly displayed herself in front of others, not even on a nude beach. The only exception had been at that sorority hazing. 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 no nourishment 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. She realized it was a great idea to coordinate the colors like that.

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 eyeholes 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 across the top 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.

They now looked surprisingly like very sexy chickens! With this bold snatch of gorgeous ladies 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.

These 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 nonetheless. 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 fine silk, and very smooth. It slid over her nakedness like her finest pajamas. She was surprised at the robe’s 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, seeing what she did, repeated her action, and were all spinning and giggled at the sweeping movement they caused in their beautiful feathered capes. It did not take much movement to reveal their genitals.

Her eyes had by now adjusted to the dim light, and she realized the people sitting here for some time had no difficulty in seeing detail under her spinning cape. 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 risqué 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 quite amused that these working class men would think they had any authority over them.

This all changed when the chef pulled his chopping blade from his belt, and the butcher produced a pair of long sharp butcher knives. In response the girls reluctantly lined up in front of a pair of large doors as they were instructed. None wanted to argue with the men bearing these sharp implements.

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, spin, 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 center of the large group of tables was a magnificent chandelier.

She saw there were smaller similar chandeliers hung above each table. The tables were large, but there were only two couples at each. The people seated at the tables were all facing the open floor between tables, so that all of them had an unobstructed view, and 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. She had not yet acclimatized to the lower light levels in the dining room. She knew that her vision would improve as she adjusted to the lower light level.

As instructed, the girls moved out onto the dance floor, and began their dancing. Just as Carla had guessed, the purpose of this exercise was to humiliate them. As the girls danced, their capes swirled and revealed their stark nakedness beneath the feathers. The feathered capes were attached only at the throat.

They were tied by a cord around their necks, just below the shiny steel collar, and the swirling revealed not only their buttocks and painted cunts, but also their bare breasts. The whole exercise 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. She was impressed that the people were paying considerable attention to her. Carla heard squeals from several of the other girls, then quickly discovered why.

She, as the others had done, recognized several of the people seated at the tables! She had seen them at the casinos, and some of them were actually friends of her parents. What in the world were they doing here? Surely these people were not also captives.

They were sitting at tables, as if at a dinner theater. She was glad they could not possibly identify her with this chicken mask in place, because she knew several of them, and if they knew who she was, she was certain 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 instructed 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 magnificent breasts with their painted nipples for the diners.

She noticed for the first time that the people seated had a scorecard in front of them, and they were all making notes. There was no difference in her level of embarrassment by the time she reached the last table, because everything about this obscene exercise was 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 to the seated observers their most intimate inner depths, and their cervix, as cunt dancers did. This was taking obscenity far beyond what Carla would imagine possible.

They had been instructed by the chef to purse and spread their lips, showing their gleaming teeth as they pulled at their sex organs, stretching them open with their slender fingers, to make it clear they were enjoying being reduced to chicken girls performing such gross sexual exhibitionism.

Carla did as required, and stared off in another direction to detach herself from the crass vulgarity of the required 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 grossly and sexually vulgar behavior that was required of her.

For the final pass, each girl was selected by the people at 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 and heavy. What were her Arab captors planning on doing?

A curious feeling came over her as she noticed the coincidence that there were fifteen captive women, and fifteen tables, seating sixty people. 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 amber 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 what she guessed to be one hundred 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 she had seen at a County Fair, loaded with spit roasting pigs.

666

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. His fly was open, and he sported a long up-curving erection. It was totally bizarre!

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 naked burly boys entered, with California tans and erections to match those of the cock-sporting auctioneer.

They were wearing only white boots, and 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 carpeted steps they moved 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. They looked to be fully prepared to use them on the line of captive ladies.

These women were now wearing silver swimsuits that had no more than a narrow 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 they did so, very effectively.

Each of them grasped the hem of her cape, and with a rapid snap, they jerked it down, bursting the single tie around her neck that had held it in place. Now the young woman 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 painfully against her bare buttocks. 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. Carla knew her turn would come, and was once again glad for the amount of anonymity provided by the chicken mask. It was needed.

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. She stood, defiantly, her head elevated and her collared neck exposed.

When she was so positioned, he slipped the curious small metal framework with the pistol attached against her collar, threw a small lever, and the device and her collar were suddenly locked together. They were made to fit perfectly together as a single unit.

Carla and a couple of the others screamed. They had seen the device earlier, and had now identified its use: There was a large metal plate that would be thrust violently forward by the discharge of the pistol. It was sharp along the leading edge. This was a decapitating machine!

Their companion, one of the fifteen, 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.

It was big enough to roast all of them, in a single line. She and the other gorgeous young ladies had been carefully selected, then captured and transport here to be roasted as fucking chickens! She watched with horror as the nude girl was made to climb back up onto the small platform.

CHAPTER THREE

The girl who had been bought by a table of diners was made to 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, attached to the steel collar encircling her neck. Watching, Carla recognized that the pistol was not intended to shoot a bullet.

Instead, its charge would drive the sharp metal disk across the face of the girl’s steel collar, neatly slicing right through her neck. If the charge was sufficient, as she was certain it was, with a single shot the disk would completely remove the girl’s 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 obscenely 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 removed head rolled across the floor in front of them.

It gradually slowed, came to rest upright, and 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 beautiful and healthy 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 collared neck stump, gradually receding as the heart ceased pumping. The beautiful young socialite was dead, decapitated.

There was something particularly shocking about the view of 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 slender 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. It was a large shell, sufficient to repeat what they had all witnessed.

The two boys pulled a long steel shaft from under the cart, and horrified the girls as they raised the hips of the shapely female carcass, thrust the pointed shaft in through its rectum, and then forced the long metal pole right up through her, until at last it emerged through the exposed gullet.

With one of them lifting each end of the shaft, they raised 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, 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 turn, so that she rotated slowly on her spit over the glowing coals.

This was the most outrageous thing imaginable. What was happening was more horrible than any of the captive girls, and certainly Carla, could have dreamed possible. These terrorists had no plans to hold the girls as hostages for ransom or for political purposes.

Their kidnapping had been for the purpose of humiliating and then outrageously murdering them for the entertainment of these wealthy guests. What was even more bizarre was that it looked like these people were cannibalistic, and that 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 all in shock at seeing what was happening here.

One of the boys picked up the severed masked 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 onto the large hook on the wall, so that the chicken-masked head was displayed for everyone to see as a trophy.

The chicken mask was now removed, so that they could see the shocked face of the girl they were about to eat. 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 the young men grasped her feathered garment, and with a powerful tug 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. This was a truly stunning cunt. The bidding went all the way up to fifty-eight hundred dollars, went no further, and the gavel fell.

The second girl had been sold, and like the first, the new owners had no plans to take her home. They would enjoy watching her naked body being decapitated, impaled and then roasted on the spit, and then enjoy feasting on her freshly barbecued flesh.

The butcher forced her to get down onto her hands and knees, with her side toward the guests so that they saw her body in profile, 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 small sturdy rails to her steel collar.

Her painted mouth, clearly visible under the beak on her mask, opened wide as if 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, as if capable of milking themselves with each deep 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. It appeared as if her cunt was begging for one final fuck.

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. That quickly, they had killed the second cunt, decapitated to be roasted as a human chicken.

This was far worse than being shocking to the ladies; it had become eminently threatening. Carla knew her turn was coming, and that there was no possible escape. She tried to distract herself while the carcass was impaled and loaded on the barbecue.

She watched in shock as the masked head was hung behind the table of the foursome that had paid for her. She watched the butcher, to see how he prepared and reloaded the weapon, which she thought of as a portable guillotine. That was a precise description of the heinous device.

He released the lever that clamped the twin rails to the 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 substantial charge of gunpowder.

The explosion of the gunpowder 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, one that suited the sophistication of the dire situation.

Carla realized that if she were not about to be a victim, she would find the idea interesting, and might even have been sold a ticket to attend this event herself. She was not a cannibal, but found the concept sufficiently devious to be interesting. That thought shocked her.

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.

Right after graduation from university, Carla had gone on a weeklong celebration cruise with her friends, and their yacht had stopped in on a retreat on a private Greek island. The tiny island was unoccupied, but had on it a pair of tiny ancient abandoned villages.

For excitement, they had played a game on the first night involving an innovative form of hide and seek, following a session of skinny-dipping and ocean fucking. The women at the party had been sent running off, stark naked, to find a secure hiding place.

This 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 the men had insisted be brought would be used to track them.

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 most of the others had been found, the two girls fouond first were brought out.

They were forced to kneel, and to submit on their hands and knees in the moonlight while the hounds that had found them were given their reward of a human fuck. 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 deeply humiliated, but had understood going in that this was part of the rules, and they were excited at the outrageous consequences of being the first to be found. They were special, daring, and the games they played in this crowd 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 of imprisoning her alive.

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, of the kind which could have terrible consequences. That had been the most exciting game of Carla’s young life. A comment from her father made her suspect he knew what she had done, but she was never confronted with it.

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.

What stimulated her was that the stakes were so high, and as long as someone else turned out to be such a big loser, she was in. 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 tomb.

This was entirely different. 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 become a 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, she recognized because of a pair of moles on her left breast. 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. That came to 8 thousand dollars per table, before the purchase of their live roast. 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 left a fifty thousand dollar profit for the sponsor.

Any one of the wealthy 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 beautiful young women such as herself.

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, Africa or the far East. Or perhaps they had somehow accidentally 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 casinos would not publicize such an outlandish raid.

Doing so 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 had lost her head and was 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, being decapitated, she would never feel the spike go into her severed neck up into her head as it was hung on the spike behind the winning bidder’s table, wearing the obscene chicken mask. God, was this all that her impressive life would amount to?

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.

This strange effect 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. To the people who held them, they were nothing but 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, and stepped backward instead of forward.

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’s tip 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, her cunt burning from the violent strike it had endured. She knew she looked incredible in her spike heels, and would look even more amazing when her feathered robe was plucked from her.

The naked burly assistants grabbed its hem and suddenly jerked her robe down, and with that single move she stood naked, her big breasts and the unfurled lips of her neatly plucked and closely shaved painted cunt, now starting to swell, 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. That was of little comfort, as they were all doomed.

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. She was pleased that the people had seen her true value as a prime physical specimen, despite knowing the certain outcome.

The table that was headed by one of her father’s best friends bought Carla. 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. She stood tall as she realized they had been right.

Because she was a highly sexualized being, 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, although she had never given birth. She and two others were told to get down off the auction block after the bidding was completed. They complied without question, knowing they had no choice in the matter.

The table that had paid for her wanted to see her engaged in sex before she was killed and cooked. The two burly lads stood side by side and displayed their impressive rigid erections, now reaching a new level of rigidity, knowing they were about to be treated to a public fuck.

The nude boys eagerly climbed the stairs onto the platform, and Carla was made to stand between them. The young man in front of her lifted her by the hips, spreading her buttocks as he did to enable the head of his throbbing erection into the hollow that housed her anus.

The boy pulled it up, spit on the bare head of his penis, then jammed the stiffened organ into the broad hollow between her spread bum cheeks. With several rutting thrusts he was suddenly 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 participated in sex in public or performed on command, and had never accommodated two partners at once before. This was and experience she would gladly have foregone, but it was at least delaying the horror of her death.

CHAPTER FOUR

Carla knew this girl, who had earned a reputation among the sons of wealthy men, and their fathers, of being a willing and cozy cunt, and she was going to make the most of her skills with these two. She was pleased with the recognition and her command of everyone’s attention as she was given a robust double fucking.

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 the headless impaled ladies onto the huge spit to begin roasting.

The long barbecue was now nearly filled with turning human chickens, their fat tits and asses bulging and browning as they roasted. There were only two spaces left on the long device, one for the daughter of the arms manufacturer and one for the loose-morale girl.

Now it was between Carla and the girl taking the twin fucking as to which would be the last to be slaughtered. Neither was anxious to take on that role. The mind of the girl bouncing between the two rutting lads was on other things, as she was squealing in agony at the painful plunging of the too-stout penis filling her anus.

She had never experienced anal sex before without a healthy snort of coke to smooth the action. She was now being ridden bareback in every sense of the word. The young girl bucked her hips as furiously as she could, attempting to bring the two young studs to early ejaculation, to ease her torment.

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 gaping cunts clearly displayed between their raised thighs. The human chicken barbecue was catching regular attention of the diners.

This was so outrageous it had to be popular among the people in her class, and she wondered again why she had never heard of it before. Perhaps her father had protected her from this kind of activity, but that was strange, because he was always so busy with business he had time for little else.

Suddenly the girl being double raped brought the two boys to ejaculation. They bellowed out their orgasms as they pumped their steaming semen into her depths. They lifted the bitch high between them, pulling her holes off them while they were still spurting thick gobs of semen from their rigid erections, now 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.

Her steel-collared neck was extended as she was presented to the butcher. He clipped the two side rails onto her collar, with the disk in perfect position against the top ridge of her collar, and he firmly grasped the handle of the pistol, his finger ready 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, and even as she was ejecting her jet spray of urine, the disk blade flew forward eight inches, and her head, neatly severed, dropped to the floor.

The butcher stood aside, so that while piss streamed from her cunt between her spread legs, her blood jetting from the three main arteries in her neck arched toward the table of her owners. The jets of blood missed him as it dropped to form crimson puddles on the bloodstained hardwood.

The boys promptly ran the fresh carcass through with a steel shaft, lifted her to the huge barbecue, and as her limbs were pinned neatly in place, attention of the diners 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 easily 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 secret Barcelona culinary club’s existence, let alone the murderous sport.

The club had been a gift to the chief organizer of a major trade show series, and had been used during the extravagant events to entertain the most powerful people of Europe with a bit of naughty dining, with a sport practiced on gorgeous, educated elite young women.

More than a year before the staging of the first of the super trade shows, 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 prepared for their roles.

They were both mentally and physically conditioned to make succulent eating. Fitness is important for food ladies, but their attitude is everything. Two world-class chefs had been dedicated to the project, and had devised several ways to prepare young women as meals.

They developed methods to attractively present properly prepared ladies, which brought about the development of the masks and boots. The two most popular methods were to roast them and to boil them alive. The breasts were best when they had been boiled, because of their high fat content.

They discovered young women most resembled the taste of chicken, even when ground into sausage. The chefs’ most important finding was that, except in the case of live boiling, it was unnecessary to clean out the digestive track of the ladies if special care was taken.

It all revolved around their minimal feeding during the three days prior to roasting, greatly reducing the content of material in a woman’s intestine. Neither method of preparation compromised the lady’s gut, meaning there was never offal to deal with.

Since economy was never a factor and only a few choice cuts were ever used, contamination by offal was never a factor. There was very little content in the gut or colon by the time a woman was cooked. Therefor there was no tainting of the meat by leaving the digestive track unattended to.

For more exotic dishes, they had developed the skills to eviscerate a living woman through her rectum, without removing vital organs, so that she could experience much of her preparation while still alive. Many devotees to this form of the proper use of women enjoyed seeing them fully experience their unusual demise.

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 incredibly important trade events, there were delivery trucks everywhere, and another going to this unidentified building was not noticed.

Now that the current trade show was over, the daily deliveries were no longer necessary, but a high level of security was essential, and a single truck could deliver all the females needed for an event such as this. The needs were modest, and the crew was capable of pulling it off successfully every time.

The women detained to serve as food were lead to believe their capture was by terrorists, and that they had been transported to Africa. That not only covered their trail effectively, she would have no idea where she was headed. These people had done their homework, and as a result could enjoy their incredible deadly sport worry free.

666

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, we all need to see you put to work your human chicken meat tenderizers!”

The women with their whips uncurled them, and positioned themselves on either side of Carla, 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 with a sinister sound through the air.

The leather weapon was aimed under the beak of the defiant bitch-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.

For some reason she had imagined that a whipping would hurt no more than a good spanking. She made out that all of this was new to her, but the truth was that she had quietly become accustomed to such things, and liked it enough that she was anxious to attend when she understood a girl would be killed.

Just a few weeks before she had been a guest at a private Hell Nite party at a private mansion in Paris, where the host had arranged for entertainment 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, giving two strokes each, and each could return for as many chances to strike the naked young girl as they wished.

Carla had found it hugely exciting, and had taken half a dozen turns, primarily giving her attention to the girl’s puffy clean-shaved vagina. Cunt whipping seemed to be so brazen and hurtful. 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, particularly along the ridge of angry welts.

She had bled much more 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. Carla felt an orgasm with each stab.

The bitch’s pale belly looked like a used pincushion before she finally died. It had been sensational. Ever since her graduation from university, snuff had become an increasingly acceptable form of adult entertainment, when such human trash was involved, and Carla took every opportunity to attend social gatherings where an entertainment killing was on the program.

Carla loved attending Hell Nite parties with their thrilling sexual violence administered to disposable working class girls as the entertainment. She did not feel particularly bad for the girls, and although their deaths were shocking, she rationalized their terror and horror were part of the attraction of a kill.

It was all part of the risk the girls faced when they had chosen their perilous profession as call girls. Facing a violent death was a calculated risk, and the lovely victims were just paying the price for having chosen the life of a loser. Carla well knew what it was like to witness brutal violence to women.

She appreciated that this audience, already high on the killings they had witnessed this evening, now found her plight exciting. What she was grasping for the first time was the reality and extent of the terror and horror that came with it for the victim. This was extremely hot, and her cunt was wet!

The merciless killing of the beautiful whore, far from 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 intense than she had imagined. Her cunt was on fire.

Of course, she was from the privileged upper-middle class, so was much more sensitive to extreme emotional stress than the working class beauties with dulled senses she had seen being killed. These sophisticated guests, like herself, would find it much more satisfying to see her beheaded, impaled, roasted and then to feed on her succulent, refined meat.

She braced herself, half crouching in her defenseless terror. She was quivering with fear, not knowing where or when the next battering blow from a whip would strike. She now understood something of what the beautiful screaming whore had gone through at that first Hell Nite party.

This was not fun, and was quite unlike the horror that hired whore, who was nothing more than a very beautiful call girl, who lived with imminent danger, had faced. This was quite different. In this case she already knew the outcome for herself tonight would be fatal, and in what way.

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 naked cunt and the bulging pucker of her experienced swelling starfish rectum.

Now the blows began coming fast and furious. The people at the tables cheered the excessive abuse of the naked dancing chicken. Her belly, buttocks and tits took the brunt of the blows, with surprise lashes at her tender cunt when she least expected them.

She leaped and spun, unable to avoid or prepare for the shocks, but was only able to react to and absorb them. The women delivering the telling blows were merciless, and made every effort to hurt her severely. From everything she could feel, they were successful.

Wielding the whip and receiving its attention were radically different, and by far she preferred being the one gripping the handle. Suddenly the chef signaled and the whipping abruptly 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 exposed lower face, breasts, back, buttocks, belly and cunt. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, but the tender meat of 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 both powerless and terrified. She also felt incredibly stimulated. Carla heard the next whistle of the lashing whip before she felt it, and she screamed even before it struck her.

The sadistic 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. Her brain raced to every part of her naked body, anticipating and ready to react to the slash of the merciless whip.

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. The audience squealed with delight. It was rare, but not unknown, that extended beatings of the breasts actually caused arousal, hormonal activity, and curiously 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 Carla’s tortured tits. The women were now sure. Their naked 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.

She stood once more, her legs braced, her swollen cunt on full display. The audience of diners cheered the excellent skill with their whips the two women in their silver swimsuits displayed. They were also startled that a young socialite woman who had never whelped could produce milk.

They surmised it must have had something to do with the raw carnal exploitation she had so often participated in, and was now so much part of. The women with the whips were making a fine show of handling this rebellious young chicken-woman’s irrational but stimulating defiance.

The naked jet setter 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 or at least stimulated right up to her decapitation, I would suggest that as a deviation from our regular routine, that we impale this gorgeous human chicken alive.”

Carla thrust her buttocks back and, with the shock of what she heard, she shit out a slender turd, which was all she was able to produce after so little food for so long. The butcher moved up to her while she was immobilized as she shit, and he clamped the decapitating device onto her collar.

With that simple move, he had her. The man in the white apron 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 she now had no hope of reprieve.

She was food. All she could do now was cooperate with their every wish. That would possibly at least help to postpone the inevitable, or to reduce the potential for further punishment. Using the pistol grip to move her, the butcher commanded Carla to move up the six 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 its long row of roasting human chickens, positioned with her back to the tables. That was the point at which, although she could not see him, she heard her father’s voice.

“See that little mole in the inside of her left breast?” the voice boomed, proudly, “That’s my girl Carla! What a sweet cunt she is, and what an impressive human chicken!”

Carla cringed. If her father was in the audience, so to would be her mother. This went far beyond humiliating.

“Flush!” the chef shouted, and one of the boys brought a hose and a pan.

The chef 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 ring of her 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 she had accidentally made had left its mark.

“Total hygiene is imperative with these ladies,” he said, and the young men used the hose and a pan to properly flush her.

Carla had a particularly beautifully shaped cunt, and the violent whipping the cleanly-shaved female sex organ had endured had caused it to open up to the world like a fully blooming flower. The audience, particularly those at the table that had bought her, were getting their money’s worth.

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 any class woman that had reached her age would still be so tender and fresh, like that of an eight-year-old. 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 brain, which was in a state of terror, from the erotic 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 knew exactly how to treat a woman’s vagina, and make the organ eager for intimate contact such as he was providing, for the amusement of his attentive audience.

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, and then parted the small pouting inner lips and thrust it into and against the tight grip of the orifice to her vagina.

The mark of her excellence, spotted by the kidnappers at the casino when she had been forced to publicly display her cunt, effectively sealed her fate as a prospective human chicken for impalement and roasting. The eager audience was about to see the superlative chicken girl’s remarkable sex organ being stuffed by a long steel shaft.

After all of the preliminaries, 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, giving her one final metal fuck. It would be the fuck to end all fucks, by running the long shaft right through her.

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 simulated deflowering with the intense pain that would result from skewering her inner gonads with the shaft.

It would be run into her gradually, filling her vagina before puncturing her cervix and moving 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 balance having used the front entrance for impalement on the skewer.

CHAPTER FIVE

The chef had worked over the years with girls of all ages, and had mastered the fine art of preparing them as everything from appetizers to main dishes. With all of that experience, his favorites to prepare were these beauties between sixteen and 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 subtle richness in flavor.

Their taste was described as being similar to the dark meat in chicken, not always found in younger pre-pubescent girls. He had prepared females of all ages for consumption, and had a handle on which produced the flavors favored by his wealthy clients.

The advantage of using white girls in their early teens to early twenties was that they produced meat that tasted more like the moist and tender white meat of chicken. Girls of other races often produced meat that more resembled the flavor of freshly slaughtered veal.

It was all a matter of taste as to which were prepared and served. His personal favorite was Arab girls between the ages of seven and ten. The most delectable cut on a human female was the vagina muscle, particularly that taken from a virgin who had not yet reached puberty.

Carla had copulated with men less often than most of her friends, and although she 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.

He would never admit it to even his closest friends, but his personal preference was to prepare and barbecue little girls, regardless of their race. It would be more satisfying to have them eaten by people of different races, because the pasture across the fence is always more enticing.

A very close second was the vagina of a woman who preferred to engage in anal sex, which was the case for Carla. Her central sex organ had not had extensive workouts by men’s penises, and she had escaped the extensive usage most girls her age had experienced, and because of it toughened their cunts.

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.

When properly handled, the heat caused firm tits to elevate with the apparent strength of erect cocks, giving a stressed look to the naked female bodies as they roasted. The swelling and firming of the breast and buttocks 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, and female flesh is quite flexible, the moisture content and the firming made the buttocks and breasts appear to grow larger, firmer, and more pointed. That unusual visual effect made impaled naked females perfect subjects for roasting.

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 and meat. 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 delicate vagina. The rounded point seemed to be sharper than it appeared at a distance. This would make it useful in finding its way through her torso, and in particular piercing through the narrow gap of her diaphragm, and then her throat.

“My God!” she thought, “That’s not my bum they’re poking and prodding! That’s my cunny!”

She could feel the rounded point of the tapered head of the shaft sliding across her vestibule, probing for a point of purchase, then suddenly it thrust, and she felt as if it had gone right through her.

She felt a sharp jab of pain, then a dull stuffing feeling. In fact, the shaft had found its way three inches into her uterus. These murderous bastards were killing her, an inch at a time! Carla lifted her pelvis in her last movement of revolt, which amounted to no more than a mild protest.

With the voluntary elevation, the boys made another thrust with the shaft, sinking it into the full depth of her internal gonads. The tip had split her cervix, a part of her anatomy with which Carla was completely unfamiliar. She had never explored her own depths, as many girls liked to do.

What she felt had been the rounded tip of the steel shaft 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 in the least like it.

The boys were just getting started. The shaft was now inside her sufficiently to hold her in place. The butcher removed the pistol-guillotine device from her neck temporarily, to give it the chance to move, displaying her extreme physical and emotional distress.

With the next heave the naked young men, their raging erections beginning to dribble smegma with their rising sexual stimulation from their erotic work, rammed the metal pole right through her uterus, and with that single heave fully occupied the inner confines of her uterus.

The intrusion buried the shaft to eighteen inches of its length, and brought the freshly impaled pussy 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.

Carla kept her back arched, trying vainly to eject the intruder by shitting it out with her cunt, but her efforts brought only more pain to her lower tummy and groin areas. These boys were easily the equals of the two women with the whips at hurting a female.

They knew how to use the impaling shaft to get the utmost effect with the victim. They watched Carla’s reactions carefully, gagging how far to go to get the most from the naked chicken-girl. It was a special and unusual treat for them to impale a girl while she was still alive, and with her head intact.

Carla’s 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 more than 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 knew 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 with a show of dexterity and strength, 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 whole audience a remarkably erotic show of her stuffed spread cunt gripping the shiny steel pole invading her. The organ pulsed as if it had the ability to do something everyone knew it did not.

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 human chicken’s limbs to her torso, 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.

He then drove 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 it 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 prostitutes, common street whores, should be subjected to a killing this terrible. When both her arms were secured like plucked wings against her sides, the chef stood back to allow the audience to enjoy her agony.

This was demonstrated by her frantic writhing on the partially inserted impaling rod, and the free and energetic kicking of her remarkable legs. With the movement, blood began to show at the edges of her cunt, from the internal damage, and it trickled down across her buttocks.

She put on such an incredible show that he allowed it to continue for nearly ten minutes. At last she began to tire, and he decided it was time for the climax of her preparation. One at a time, he bent and carefully skewered her gorgeous legs in place, severely bent.

He thrust his sharp long pins through her ankles and calves into her upper leg, securing the tight bend. She was now fixed in the position of a neatly tucked chicken, ready to roast on the rotisserie. In this position she could roll her eyes, but not far enough to see the audience.

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, once again holding his trusty bitch-decapitator. This was a moment the audience was waiting for.

He positioned the rails on either side of her long neck, sliding it under the sides of her steel collar, and then once more threw the lever and 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 create a gurgle, driven by sheer terror. The well-educated young rich-bitch, her parents sitting in the audience awaiting her exciting killing, 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. Much of his pleasure with his amazing job was derived from looking into the face of his naked victim as he killed her.

She furtively 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. She knew he was ready, and that his penis was about to ejaculate in his pants.

It was clear he was enjoying a massive sexual rush from what he was about to do. She was certain he was already ejaculating in his pants, and she felt some power in having contributed to his sexual experience. This was it. He could no longer delay pulling the trigger and offing her head.

“My God, No!” Carla screamed internally, silently.

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 minor jerk of his head, 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 knew her head had been placed on the wall hook.

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 more accurately, 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. Arms momentarily blocked her view as someone reached up and removed her mask. She saw the guests who had bought her admire her beauty, and two of them recognized her.

A single tear trickled from one eye, rolled down over her cheek, 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-bitch-heads. She was no longer special. All of the pretty young women were finally equal.

THE END