Ming

Chapter 8

Looking back, Ming could only agree with Cherry's assesment. Not only did live spitting present by far the most dramatic and erotic banquet scenes at Millennium, but the meat of the female human was at its savory best when the carcass was roasted whole, turning slowly over a low fire. Variety is good, of course, and she had certainly enjoyed the two banquets she had attended since Celine's. There was no question those women were perfectly cooked, elegantly presented and very tasty. Still, she had to admit that neither had lived up to the excitement and appeal of Celine's roast.

The next banquet menu after Celine's had featured Tai, the pretty, dark blonde wife of Seth. She had been a Permanent Guest for six years and had just turned twenty-six. Her luck had run out at her nineteenth banquet.

In the first round of the lottery, all the women had been brought blindfolded into the Billiard Room, one by one, without knowing what to expect. They were told to choose either Table A or Table B , sight unseen, reason unspecified. Just choose. After making their arbitrary choice, they were led to the billiard table, given a billiard ball and ordered to roll it toward the opposite rail with the object of having it come to rest as close as possible to that far rail. The five women whose balls stopped farthest from the rail would have to go to round two. Trouble was, they didn't know whether they were standing at one side (A) or at one end (B) of the table. Tia had guessed she was at the end and rolled it hard, but she was wrong. The ball bounced off the opposite rail, rebounded again off the near rail and stopped close to its starting point. (Ming had also guessed B and rolled it just hard enough to go the length of the table. In her case B was the right guess and her roll was just good enough to keep her out of round two.)

The second round among the five finalists had been a game of strip poker. All five had all started with nineteen officially itemized articles of clothing, including jewelry and their lives. Tia was down to her wedding ring and panties in nine hands. She lost those and her life in the tenth.

She was not big on pain. She opted to be slaughtered and butchered with the different cuts of her meat cooked according to her own and her husband's personal preferences. Her choice for death was by guillotine. Naked, gagged, her wrists bound behind her, converted to livestock by her husband's kiss, she was led to the kitchen where the guillotine awaited her in one corner. A cushion had been placed in front of it for her to kneel upon. A plastic pan had been set on the other side to catch her head and the initial gush of blood. She hesitated, shivering, then sank slowly on to the cushion. Ming, watching all this from the observation window, spotted a tear trickling down one cheek. A kitchen assistant gently pushed Tia's head down so that her neck rested in the indent of the block. The top bar was dropped into place over the back of her neck and latched down, holding her firmly in place. A second assistant stood to one side of her head, careful not to obstruct the view of the observers in the window. He nodded to the first assistant who pulled a small lever. The heavy angled blade of the guillotine slipped down its track and sliced through Tia's delicate neck. As her head fell toward the pan, the assistant there instantly snatched it up and turned it so that Tia, still alive for a few more seconds, could see her headless body fall over on its side and lay still.

The execution of a beautiful young woman, especially if she's naked, bound and helpless, is always erotically charged, and Ming trembled with the full effect of it. She watched Tia's head thrown carelessly into the garbage bin where her entrails and meat-stripped skeleton were soon to follow. She watched the kitchen staff butcher the woman with whom, just an hour before, she had been engrossed in a lively conversation about husbands and sex. A woman no longer. Just a carcass now, quickly reduced to steaks, filets, loins and chops. The were breasts lopped off for special treatment. The lips of her sex were snipped off to be deep fried and served to Seth, her sponsor and widower. Tia had carefully specified how every part of her should be prepared, down to her favorite seasonings and sauces. She had designed and starred in a lovely dinner.

But for Ming it lacked the sensual impact of Celine's live roast.

The next banquet had been emotionally wrenching for Ming, but at the same time extraordinarily erotic. The first round was decided by roulette. There were fourteen players. Everyone picked red or black. Ming picked black. The wheel spun; the ball rolled the opposite way, slowed, dropped into a slot. Black. Now she was one of six players, including Katerina (again) and her friend Jade. A second spin: odd or even. Ming chose even. The wheel spun; the ball rolled, slowed, dropped into a slot. Even. Now there were three; Jade, a raven-haired girl named Cheyenne and herself. Her heart began to pound.

"Now ladies," the Lottery Master was saying, "I will ask you to follow me to the Brandenburg Room for our final elimination round.

Ming, Jade and Cheyenne, one of them a test away from the end of her life, were understandably wired. The crowd that followed behind them, however, was relaxed and ebullient. The men were wondering which of these babes would be on their plate tonight. The women were happy it would not be them. Especially Katerina who had the feeling her own date with the Millennium Chef was closing in.

Ming's tenseness was not eased by what she saw when she entered the Brandenburg Room. The center of the high-ceilinged room was dominated by a platform. Above it a half dozen ropes ending in nooses hung from winches in a straight row. The three contestants were led up a flight of steps to the platform where Lenny, following behind them, positioned each of them beside a noose and ordered them to step out of their shoes. Jade was in the center with Ming on her right and Cheyenne on her left. Starting with Cheyenne, Lenny bound each woman's wrists behind her with plastic restraints, then dropped the noose over her head and snugged it around her neck. There was a humming sound as each winch pulled the noose upward until its occupant was standing on her toes. Then, beginning with Ming and traveling down the line in the opposite direction, Lenny placed an object firmly in each contestant's right palm and taped it in place. To Ming it felt for all the world like a very short dildo: round at one end and flat at the other. Something protruded from the flat end. A button? Lenny also reached under their dresses and pulled their panties down to their ankles and ordered them to kick them off the stage along with their shoes. They did.

"Now, ladies," the Lottery Master intoned, "here's your challenge. In a moment the nooses around your pretty necks will ascend just far enough so that you can't touch the platform. Most women can last ten to twenty minutes in a slow hanging situation like this before they strangle. In your hand, however, is a remote switch. If you brush it with your thumb you'll feel the button. If any one of you presses her button, you will all be lowered to the platform so you can stand again and breathe. The catch is: whoever presses the button first will be our dinner this evening. So, if you'd prefer to be dining tonight, rather than dined upon, hold out as long as you can. If any of you pass out before someone presses a button, we'll try to revive you when it's over. If all three of you pass out before a button is pushed, the first to lose consciousness will be our dinner. In the event of a tie, the first one to lose bladder control and pee on the floor will be it. That's why your panties were removed. But be advised: we will only be cooking one of you today. Anyone else who passes out and cannot be revived will be butchered and sold for dog food. Literally. Good luck!"

The moment he stopped talking, Ming felt the rope tightening around her neck and lifting her up. A few seconds later her feet were dancing in air and the noose was clenched tightly around her throat, choking off her air supply. She fought off panic, concentrating on finding ways to drag air into her lungs. It was fiendishly difficult! She heard herself making gurgling noises in a desperate effort to work her throat open enough for small gulps of air. But the grip of the noose tightened relentlessly, making it ever more difficult. She realized she was still kicking her feet, trying to find the floor, an involuntary reflex she had to stop because every movement of her body helped the rope slip a little more in its hangman's knot, making the noose smaller and tighter. She stiffened her body, forcing it to be still. She was twisting slowly, and eventually her companions came into view. Their faces were contorted with desperation, their mouths gaping open, tongues protruding, eyes bulging, bodies twitching as they struggled for air. Ming knew she looked exactly like them — mouth open, tongue out. She could also see the cluster of onlookers smiling up at them, sexually stimulated at the sight of the hanging women. But she didn't care about that. In her struggle to drag in another tiny bit of air her lucidity was rapidly yielding to despair. This isn't how she wanted to die! Not as a Chef's Special ( why hadn't she made out a damned will? ) and certainly not as dog food. She wanted the whole Millennium enchilada: the ceremonial farewell kiss, the public stripping and march to the kitchen at the end of a leash, right through to the traditional presentation of her crispy cunt lips to her new husband. If she could only hang on until one of the other two pushed the button, she could still plan her own party, go out in erotic style. But if she waited too long, her life, her death and her body would be wasted. Minutes went by. Drool ran from the corner of her mouth because she couldn't swallow. The hangman's knot jammed painfully against her right cheek and ear. Her lungs were burning, but taking even a tiny breath required a tremendous effort. More minutes dragged by. She wanted to drop the remote device in her hand, get rid of it before her thumb took action on its own and pressed the button; but she couldn't. It was taped in place. Tremors began to shake her body. The movement made the noose tighter. More time elapsed. An eternity of it. Her vision began to break up, filling with twinkling lights. At the same time she felt a familiar sensation growing in her genitals. It traveled up her belly, expanded to every extremity of her body, electrified her brain! As darkness closed in, a rattling sexual climax swept away her cares, her desperation. Her pelvis was thrusting, her legs working, she couldn't help it. The noose buried deeper into her neck. Her final thought was one of regret, not that she was dying, but that Lyle was not inside her to share this last tumultuous orgasm.

A noise roared through her, a bleating, jolting her back to consciousness. She was gasping, gulping in air. Someone was holding her up by the waist, but she could feel something solid under her feet. The noose had been loosened and was being slipped over her head. With a snip her wrists were freed from the plastic cuffs. The tape holding the button device to her palm was ripped away. She opened her eyes and stood upright on shaky legs. The Lottery Master was supporting her with his left arm, tossing away the used wrist restraint with the right. He let his hand graze up over her breast as he released her.

Reason began to flood back into her mind, like blood flowing into a numbed arm, reviving it. Jade, next to her, was standing with her wrists still fastened behind her and her head bowed; Lenny was removing the noose from around her neck. Beyond them Lyle was lowering Cheyenne down to the platform on her back. He knelt beside her, bent over her and pressed his lips against hers. Kissing her. Deeply! A surge of anger burned through Ming, shocking her into focus! But with that focus came understanding. He was giving the girl mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

Her mind clear now, Ming put the pieces together. It was Jade who had pushed the button. It apparently set off some sort of klaxon, accounting for the bleating noise. Cheyenne must have passed out from strangulation even before Ming. Now Lyle — the doctor in the house — was trying to revive her. Yet it seemed to Ming to be taking an inordinately long time . . . his lips on hers, his hands cradling her mouth, his breath mingling with hers! But eventually the girl stirred. Ming turned her anger on herself. Why was she doing this? Why was her mind filled with doubts and resentment instead of pride in her man? She walked over and knelt next to him, caressing him lovingly as he made sure his patient was recovering properly. When Cheyenne's eyes blinked open and she smiled up at the two of them, breathing on her own, they both helped her to her feet and down off the platform, careful to avoid the puddle of urine she had released when she lost consciousness.

It was not until she was off the platform that Ming remembered with a pang of guilt that she hadn't spoken to Jade. She glanced back. Jade was still up there, along with Lenny and the Lottery Master. Lenny had shoved a gag in Jade's mouth and the smaller man was beginning his spiel.

"Well, we have found our featured menu item for tonight! A lovely young lady of Taiwanese extraction who has been one of our most loyal, lively and effective PG's, having been instrumental in the matriculation of several of our newest guests. I'm confident that at this elegant nineteen year old will also prove to be an exceptionally tender and tasty oriental treat. She's sponsored by our old friend Taylor, and I'll ask him now to come up on the platform here for the formal conversion ceremony."

The tall, elderly man who had rescued Jade from her days as a teenage call girl strode up the steps. Taking hold of her upper arms, he turned her so that they were both in profile to the audience below. He looked directly into her eyes and grinned.

"Jade, hon, I'm sure gonna miss you. But don't you worry, I'll see to it that you go out just the way you wanted. And you can rest assured that I and all your friends here will enjoy every last morsel of you, right down to your pretty little toes." He kissed her forehead, turned and descended the steps. Ming suspected he would be dialing a high-class out-call service for a new mistress before Jade was fully digested.

"Members and guests," the Lottery Master was saying, "Jade as a person and a valued Permanent Guest is no more. She is now livestock and the property of the Millennium Group. Jade did leave us a Will." He waived a paper overhead. "To sum it up, she requested that she be live-boiled as a centerpiece in the Banquet Hall. In accordance with her wishes, preparations will begin immediately in the kitchen. Immersion in the boiling tank should take place in the Hall around 2:00 PM. As usual, anyone who is interested is invited to observe any and all stages of the preparation and cooking. The banquet will be served at 7:30 PM."

While he spoke, Lenny had been cutting off Jade's favorite black cocktail dress with its intricate red trim and the matching Victoria's Secret undies. She looked pained as he tossed the ruined remains on Cheyenne's puddle of urine where they could be used to help mop it up. But her eyes sparkled as he buckled the dog collar around her neck and pulled on the leash, leading her down the platform steps and out the door in the direction of the kitchen.

Moving along with the following crowd and holding fast to Lyle's arm, Ming considered the look she had just seen flash across Jade's face and reconsidered her earlier feelings of guilt. Jade was obviously having the time of her life! This was exactly what she had fantasized about during her long talks with Ming before and after the previous banquets. In fact, they had both created numerous fantasies in which they were the star attraction: naked, bound, gagged and led to their slaughter through a throng of amused party-goers.

Thinking back on the hanging, Ming recalled the look of excitement on the faces in the crowd as she strangled in her noose, helpless and terrified. Nothing strange about that, she realized. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of people over the centuries had gathered at public executions to watch in fascination as other people died. The hanging (or stoning or burning) of pretty young women had always been especially popular. Sex, violence and death. The universal elements of entertainment. Watching it was exciting; but to be the principal player — the victim star, the life about to be extinguished — had to be the ultimate of orgasmic experiences

Ming felt better now. Jade was frightened but happy, committed to a death scene she herself had written, with no way out.

Watching her friend through the kitchen observation window meekly accepting the debasing enemas while her audience made jokes and sipped cocktails, Ming reflected on her own high and low points during the last four months.

The wedding, though quiet and intimate, had been a dream come true. The wedding night was an excess of debauchery that must have rivaled anything the courtesans of antiquity could have devised. All three orifices had been sore for the next two days, a fact which did not, however, discourage additional and frequent nuptial romps during the Bahama honeymoon. Indeed, it provided her horny new husband a continuing excuse to soothe her sore pussy and nipples with his soft wet tongue for hours, sometimes under a blanket right out there on the beach. Not that she required any reason beyond sheer lust to permit such service. For a whole month he seemed content to devote his body and soul entirely to her, just as he had promised. She had become so confident in his love that she decided to give him a treat. She asked him to take her to the Iron Feather Club for some bondage and whipping.

"Treat me like the naughty slut I am," she had told him in a husky voice. "Punish me in front of everyone. Show them I'm your love slave and pain slut, and that you're my Lord and Master."

He had been delighted to take her up on the offer. The flogging she received while her wrists were chained to an overhead beam was playful and only really painful the few times he flicked the cat at her slit and tits. But he didn't stop there. He invited other club members to molest her in any way they chose. While some only fondled and sucked her tits, others drove their fingers into her pussy or actually fucked her standing up, making her wrap her legs around them while hanging by her wrists. During it all, her husband watched, getting hard. But that was all right. She was pleasing him with her obedience. She was proving her love for him, that she would do anything for him. Their club visits became weekly. The whippings became more lengthy, harder, more painful. Other tortures were added: nipple clamps, labia clamps, tongue clamps. She became the Club fuck toy, loaned to friends and strangers alike. Still, she accepted these things, began to look forward to the humiliation, the enforced sex, even the whips, canes, alligator clips and electrical torture, because it always led to an aftermath of frantic sex with Lyle, and torrents of loving attention. Sweet rewards for her willingness to endure his erotic whims. And although he shared her body with countless others, he remained true to his own promise of exclusivity to her.

Until a month ago.

It happened so naturally, so easily. With her own blessing.

An impossibly good looking young couple had approached them at the bar before the scenes and games had begun. The two were diametrical opposites. He was big, blond and blue-eyed. She was petite with dark brown eyes, darker hair streaked with highlights and eye-catching cleavage. He was clearly a workout freak with muscles barely contained by his shirt and pants. She was lithesome and curvy with pouty lips and perky nipples that begged attention from beneath the clingy fabric of her top. They introduced themselves: Keith and Rebecca. A warm couple, intelligent, funny, exuding sexuality. After the minimum ubiquitous small talk, Keith got directly to the issue.

"Would you two like to join Rebecca and me in one of the Play Rooms to get better acquainted?"

Ming's clit was already beginning to itch. She knew Lyle would never turn down such an invitation and was envisioning what it was going to be like being fucked by this gorgeous hunk of male. She could hardly wait to see him naked, hoped the bone would be worthy of the meat.

"Sure thing," Lyle said.

The Iron Feather Club had four Play Rooms. Three featured king-sized beds with old-fashioned iron head and foot boards. End tables on either side contained drawers with a convenient supply of ropes, chains, handcuffs, collars, candles, condoms and other useful implements for one or two couples, or perhaps a threesome. The fourth room was much larger — orgy size — and contained no bed at all, just a thickly padded wall-to-wall mat with three or four sofas and a half-dozen ottomans scattered around. All four rooms had voyeur windows for the amusement of passers by, which were discretely nestled among the myriad of mirrors coating the walls and ceilings. There was no such thing as privacy or modesty at the Iron Feather Club.

The two couples chose one of the smaller rooms.

"Tell you what," Keith said the instant the door closed behind them. "To make our getting acquainted less stuffy, how about we start by getting rid of these clothes."

There was not the least disagreement among the others.

"And how about we do it by each of us undressing the other person's mate?"

His blue eyes bore into Ming as he made this additional suggestion. She felt her pulse picking up speed.

"Sounds right to me," Lyle agreed, and squared off with Rebecca who smiled and began to unbutton his shirt.

"Okay with you, princess?" Keith asked Ming, who was so eager to feel his hard hands unzipping her dress that she could only give him a goofy grin.

Keith did everything in slow motion, letting his fingers brush her skin as the zipper descended, then again as he drew it slowly over her head, never breaking eye contact. He put both arms around her to undo her bra, pulling her into him to do so, letting his fingers caress her back as he worked the hooks apart. The scent of his body and steel of his chest muscles inflamed her. She knew her panties would betray her readiness for what was coming. He pushed her away slightly to slide the bra over her arms and drop it on the floor. But instead of reaching for her thong, the last scrap of material on her body and now damp at the crotch, he grinned back at her and said, "I'm feeling a little over dressed, here."

Ming snapped out of her daze. She would have been happy to stand there all day and let him do unto her whatever he wished, but suddenly the idea of undressing this living Ken doll made her even hotter. She reached for the sides of his polo shirt and began lifting it. He was much taller than she, so he helped by shrugging out of it. He was now bare to the waist and Ming was practically shivering with need. She hoped he would throw her on the bed and ravish her right then and there! As she fumbled with his belt, he stopped her.

"You'll have to remove my shoes first."

She settled to her knees before him and bent down to untie his running shoes. The subservient position felt eminently right. In that moment she faced the reality of who she was and what she wanted. What she craved! Her body was demanding to be seized, dominated, abused, raped, hurt, destroyed! Eaten!

Disemboweled, cooked and eaten.

She'd been fooling herself. It was not just Lyle she wanted. It was what Lyle had shown her. The thrill for her was in the submission. Submission to Lyle. Submission to this blond god before her. Submission to anyone willing to use her. Submission to debasement, pain and death. She craved the ultimate submission waiting for her at Millennium: that final terrifying act that would satisfy the yearning! End the craving! End everything. And the most wonderfully erotic aspect of it was that there was nothing she could do now to escape it or prevent it! She had already submitted.

Still on her knees, she straightened up, drew down the zipper of his fly and lowered his pants to his ankles. He stepped out of his shoes and pants; kicked them aside. The bulge against his briefs was almost frightening. With trembling fingers she reached inside to fish out the cause of the bulge, then lowered the briefs past it. The enormity of his organ, fully engorged, made her momentarily breathless.

"Take it in your mouth."

He need hardly have given the order. She licked longingly at the purple glans, then took the shaft, inch by inch, into her mouth until she gagged. She let her throat get used to the incursion, then impaled herself further on its magnificent length, until it would go no deeper. She mewed, rocking back and forth, letting it slide on her tongue and lips, drenching it with saliva.

"Ready for it now?" Lyle's voice in her ear. "Ready to take it between your legs?"

She nodded, not releasing it, sucking gently.

"But this time we have to be fair. This time we both share. You with Keith, me with Rebecca. Are you ready?"

Another nod. Sucking harder. Breathing more ragged. She needed to cum!

"Do you agree? You with Keith, right now? Me with Rebecca?"

She nodded vigorously, making little animal noises around the huge shaft.

Keith pulled out and rubbed the tip of it on her pursed lips. He picked her up, laid her on the bed and straddled her body on his hands and knees, letting his organ, slippery now with her saliva and his own pre-cum, slide up and down her slit. Starting to enter, but not quite. Teasing.

"Do you agree, Ming? You fuck Keith. I fuck Rebecca and you fuck Keith right now!"

"Yes! Yes!" she cried, her brain sizzling! "Everyone fuck everyone! Now! Please! Yes!"

Keith pulled her legs up to his sides, opening her squim wide, and entered it with a single thrust. They pounded against each other, Ming screaming with pleasure, digging her fingers into his sides and the rock pillars of his arms, flailing her feet in little circles as the mass of his pelvis rammed against her crotch, forcing her legs wide, until they both exploded in climax! She felt surges of hot semen spurting against her cervix, bathing the entrance to her womb. She rode a dazzling series of aftershocks on his continuing and gentling thrusts until they had both melted into a joyful pool of contentment.

That's when she opened her eyes and became aware of Lyle and Rebecca on the other side of the bed. Rebecca was making soft grunting noises, her hands clutching the bars of the headboard, her legs splayed up and out. Lyle was between her thighs, thrusting energetically, kneading her breasts with both hands. Lyle's promise of exclusivity had proved as solid as a bag of sugar in the rain.

But wait. She had agreed to it. Or had she been tricked? Had he set her up? Taken unfair advantage of her obvious lust?

No. She had definitely agreed to it. Over and over. Specifically: Keith to take care of her itch; Rebecca for his. Her need to be ravished had been stronger than her need to hold Lyle to his promise. So how could she blame him? It was meant to happen. It had opened her eyes. She now understood who she really was and what she really wanted.

She wanted to be where Jade was. She wanted to be on the other side of the observation window. She watched in growing envy as Jade climbed up on the table and assumed the position to be strapped down. Her expression, as they cinched her in place, was a wonderful complex of calm and fear.

The Chef did not torment her by showing her the scalpel. He simply plunged it into her belly and sliced her open from pubis to breastbone. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit hard on the gag as they spread open the long gash and began pulling out her organs, severing them from her body and cauterizing the wounds. When her abdomen was empty, instead of filling it with stuffing as they had with Celine, they inserted a large balloon-like object.

"What's that?" Ming asked Lyle.

"It will keep the scalding water away from direct contact with her heart and lungs. Enables her to live several minutes longer," he answered. "After she dies, they'll pull her out of the tank and remove it, along with her heart and lungs. The heart and liver are edible, so when they put her back in the tank, they'll throw those in, too. Then they'll bring the water to a full boil for the balance of her cooking time."

The kitchen staff unstrapped Jade and sat her up on the table. Her arms were drawn behind her back and her wrists bound with cord. Her legs were folded up with the ankles bound to her thighs. A band of fishnet was wrapped around her mid-section and cinched as tight as a girdle ("to hold her abdomen together," Lyle explained). Her legs were spread wide and a bar was attached between her knees to hold them apart, providing an obscene view of her sex. Her pussy was already shaved but the Chef ran a dry razor over the area anyway to eliminate any stubble. The lips would be sliced off at the banquet and deep fried for formal presentation to Taylor. The Chef finished by inserting a finger into her gaping vulva and massaged the swollen clit. He looked pleased at the strong orgasm it triggered. Despite having been gutted, she was still sexually responsive.

Ming's envy intensified.

Jade was placed on a stainless steel cart and rolled out to the Banquet Hall. A rectangular tank with glass sides had been placed in the center of the hall. It was a three foot cube sitting on a three inch high heating element. An iron lid, split into two halves through a neck-sized hole in the center, had been placed on a nearby table. Jade was lifted from the cart by two members of the kitchen staff and lowered into the tank in a kneeling position. The two halves of the lid were closed around her neck and locked together on the top of the tank. A soft gasket around the rim of the hole served to prevent damage to her neck. Cotter pins through steel rods at each corner of the tank held the lid securely in place. A hose was connected to a filler tube and water began pouring into the tank.

"The water is cool," Lyle told Ming. "It will take a while to heat up. The gradual rise in water temperature enables her body to adjust better. She may well last right up to the boiling point."

Ming wanted to go over to go over to her friend and kiss her goodbye, tell her how great she had looked in the kitchen and how sexy she looked now, bound up and trapped in her glass cauldron as the water rose around her. But Lyle warned her off.

"Jade is already gone," he said. "She doesn't exist. What you see in the cooking tank is meat. The rules strictly forbid approaching the meat during prep and cooking." He insisted that she would "really, really regret it" if she broke the rules.

So she did the next best thing. She kept the required distance from the tank but walked to where Jade could catch sight of her, then waved and blew her a kiss.

Jade nodded and made a sound through her gag that was unintelligible.

"Lyle tells me I'm not allowed to touch you," Ming called across the space between them. "Can't touch the meat, he says."

Jade shook her head, no. Ming couldn't decide whether that meant, "No, you can't ," or "No, that's wrong." She tried again.

"I wanted to kiss you goodbye, but I can't."

Jade blinked both eyes at her. What did that mean? Ming decided that this attempt to communicate was not workable. The gag and the "rules" were designed to isolate the livestock from their former lives, to underscore their new identity as meat animals. Ming decided let Jade return to her own thoughts, to living out this last extreme experience of her fantasy. Still, she couldn't leave without offering some kind of reassurance, some word of endearment.

"I just wanted to say, sweetie, that this was a great choice. It's making me so horny I can hardly stand it! I'll stay here with you till you're . . . till you've gone, but then I'm going to drag Lyle off and pounce on his bones!" She chuckled, but immediately regretted the flippancy. "No, really, you look fabulous in there. And I'm really looking forward to the banquet tonight. Want to find out if you taste as good as you've always said you would. But I know you will. And just think: after tonight you'll be part of me forever." She blew another kiss and hurried back to Lyle, mentally rehashing the shortcomings of her little speech, thinking of all the things she should have said.

Gradually the incoming water reached the underside of the lid so that Jade's entire body, up to mid-neck, was immersed. For twenty minutes she hardly moved, only shifting a little to relieve her knees. As the temperature gauge passed the 120º mark, she began squirming with increasing discomfort. At 150º her skin had turned red and she started to thrash, trying to break her bonds, trying to push the lid up with her shoulders, trying to get out of her watery hell! As the temperature climbed still closer to boiling, she went into mad convulsions, her face contorting in agony, her head snapping back and forth, her breasts bobbing up and down wildly as she danced on her knees in the tank, hands opening and closing as if trying to grasp a fiery rope. Tiny bubbles had begun to rise in the water.

Ming's body was shaking, too. Lyle's hand had found its way under her skirt to her mound of Venus and the sweet valley below it, his fingers entering her secret place. She leaned back against him and let her pelvis buck against his hand, making small deposits of secretions. When Jade finally slumped and became still in the boiling water, Ming reached behind her and tore open Lyle's zipper, grasped the hardened flesh inside and caught his ejaculation in her own hand. Heedless of the snickers around them, they turned to face each other, linked their rights arms at the elbow and licked each other's palm clean.

That night — her belly filled with Jade's succulent, tender meat and her love sleeve overflowing with the warm, creamy proof of her husband's affection — she began to talk to him about her own will. Having observed three girls prepared, cooked and served in three very different ways, she now knew exactly how she wanted to be done.

When her time came.