Tuesday, July 5, 19..
Man, oh man. That was something else. That was crazy. But now everything and from the beginning.
So I went into the cell where the two were lying bound on their cot. I immediately got a strong whiff of urine. The two had peed themselves. Understandable considering their situation and the fact that I had left them lying in their cell all day.
They immediately started yelling at me. What was going on, that I’d kidnapped them and I’d better let them go. They wouldn’t go to the police, and the evening or night before had been great. Hadn’t I had fun too, and why had I picked them to kidnap and blah, blah, blah. I listened, smiling, to the whole thing for a while and then said simply “There’s a simple explanation. I’m going to eat you!”
They immediately shut up and stared wide-eyed, unbelievingly at me.
“You’re nuts!” was the first reaction, but apparently they saw from my expression that I wasn’t kidding. So we now entered the phase of their pleading and begging for their insignificant little lives. But they quickly recognized that I was completely deaf to such pleas. Especially when I grabbed Lisa and pulled her from the cell.
Of course she tried hard to ward me off, cried, wailed, and yelled, but since she was bound hand and foot, every attempt at resistance was futile. I dragged her into my small slaughter chamber—so I call it—because it’s completely tiled and furnished with everything needful for slaughtering a prey animal.
I fastened Lisa, arms raised and legs spread, facing the wall, in shackles installed there. I then gave her an enema which had the result that she first broke wind and then, when she couldn’t hold it any longer, opened her sphincter and let loose her bowel contents. I immediately sluiced the fecal matter with a hose into a drain designed just for that purpose, and I repeated the bowel cleansing until the water from her rectum ran clear.
The whole time she alternated between cursing me and begging me to let her live. She finally reached the point of resignation, and when I began to rub in a special depilatory lotion, I could tell that at least her body reacted positively to the massage. Especially when I came to her lower region. Almost accidentally her thighs opened wider and she pushed against my massaging hand.
And when I reached from behind into her thoroughly wet cleft of arousal, she couldn’t suppress an excited moan. As I continued to manipulate her there, I pushed myself hard against her backside so that she could feel my own arousal there. I then began to whisper things in her ear that aroused me. Things like how much I would enjoy the tenderness of her flesh, how ravenously I wanted a piece of her ass cheek, how much I anticipated sinking my teeth into her sliced and grilled pussy, how delicious her sliced breasts would be, and so on. That made my manhood almost painfully stiff.
I freed my little friend from his prison and rubbed myself in the crack of her behind. But I continued my manipulation and my whispered rant. Her moans became louder and stronger and my hand was more or less soaked with her pussy juice. Suddenly she began to buck and wail loudly in her bonds. I felt muscle contractions on my finger in her pussy as if she wanted to suck my hand in. She had actually orgasmed.
Then I pulled back a little to give my erect penis the opportunity to glide between her cheeks and penetrate her glistening and twitching anus. My swollen glans encountered hardly any resistance and shortly was sunken deeply into her bowel. Thoroughly excited, I pumped enthusiastically, not forgetting to continue to finger her swollen labia.
That way I succeeded to maintain her in an advanced state of arousal. I soon experienced a telltale tingling in my balls, and shortly the protein-rich jism erupted from me to lose itself in the depths of her bowel.
Breathing heavily I pressed myself against her bucking body which was again on the edge of an orgasm. I quickly pulled a sharp fileting knife from my belt, and continued to manipulate Lisa with my left hand. Her moans again became louder and uncontrolled. Suddenly she threw herself against me and pushed her dripping and convulsively twitching crotch onto my hand. She was again overcome with an orgasmic wave.
I took advantage of it to drive my fileting knife directly under her breast bone deep into her flesh and then draw it firmly down until it met resistance in the form of her pubic bone. I pulled out the knife, let it fall, and reached with my hand into the now open abdominal cavity to pull out everything I could grab. The shriek she uttered during this procedure could hardly be called human.
She immediately collapsed in her bonds. Then I took up the knife again and reached around from behind with both hands and the knife into the cavity. Most of her entrails had already fallen out and hung grotesquely from her. Blood streamed from the giant wound, and I quickly found what I was seeking: the main artery. I immediately transected the aorta, and a flood of blood sprayed from her into the wall. If she wasn’t dead before, she was then.
I stepped back and released the metal shackles which had held Lisa in position. The lifeless body collapsed limply. I pulled a large meat hook, which was attached to an overhead rail, to me and hung Lisa’s carcass on it by driving it through her heels. Then I finished gutting the carcass. I threw all the entrails in a vat for later use or disposal.
I then took off Lisa’s head and hands from the carcass and put them with the entrails in the vat. The carcass would need some time to finish bleeding out. In the meantime I could clean up and sluice the room and, of course, the carcass, with water. When that was done, I picked up the vat and went into my little test kitchen. Then I put the head on the kitchen countertop so she could watch what I did with her entrails.
Lisa’s facial expression was somehow—shall we say—confused and at the same time horror stricken. In the moment of her passing, the unbearable pain and the orgasm must have elicited contrary emotions. Panic and pain met lust and ecstasy. Before she could sort them out, she had already departed life. And exactly that moment was frozen on her face.
As I now sorted out and cleaned her entrails, I spoke to the head as if she could answer. So I explained to her why I was discarding her gall bladder, parts of her reproductive organs such as overies and vaginal canal (they don’t do anything for me) or how pleased I was with her kidneys.
I cleaned the intestines because I wanted to make mild girl sausage. After I had put the various entrails separately in bowls, I remembered that Claudia was waiting in the cell to be slaughtered. But what was I to do with her? With Lisa I knew she was ripe for the slaughter. I had a use for everything. But Claudia with her boyish and rather gaunt figure. Should I slaughter her, or should I first fatten her up some. Perhaps I should inspect her again once more. There was, after all, no hurry.
So I went back to the cell where I was hit immediately with a strong stench of urine. But that was my own fault. I’d given her no chance to pee. As I unbound her from the cot, she asked, crying, where her friend Lisa was.
“You’ll see her soon—now move it,” I answered and dragged her by her by her bonds from the cell. When she saw Lisa’s head on the kitchen counter, she cried out Lisa’s name hysterically and collapsed sobbing.
I dragged her into the slaughter chamber and fettered her to the wall as I had Lisa, which she allowed whimpering and unresisting. Then, as I had Lisa, I administered several enemas to cleanse her bowels.
With the hose I sluiced away the fecal matter and sprayed her from head to foot. Then I proceeded to rub the back of her body with body wash. I rinsed that off, undid the shackles, but only to turn her around, and then, with her back to the wall, locked them once more. Again she hysterically cried out Lisa’s name and stared at Lisa’s corpse, hanging in the corner, with blood still dripping from the neck and abdomen.
“Quiet down,” I said to her, “you won’t be slaughtered today. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. So calm down. For now you’ll live.”
Then I rubbed her front with the body wash and, of course, paid special attention to her primary and secondary sexual characteristics. And thereby I established that despite the shocked state of her psyche, her body reacted automatically to the manipulating stimulus. Even if her erect nipples might have been caused by the cold water, the production of moisture from her pussy and the swelling of her labia clearly came from my fingering her groin.
I rinsed her off again and left her alone while I went to clean up her cell and make it somewhat livable again. As I did that, I considered what I should do with Claudia. She was anything but ripe for slaughter, and if I was honest with myself, somehow I liked the girl. During sex with her, it wasn’t just my penis that felt good (which is why I came in her and not in Lisa). Aside from that, she seemed somehow to be my archetypical woman.
But what to do. And then I had an idea. I would make her my slave, and not only that. I would turn her into a cannibal. Up to now there was no shortage of meat for one. But that could turn interesting. So now I must close, dear Diary. Claudia’s training awaits.
Conclusion follows . . .
Wednesday, July 6, 19…
Well, here I am again. So after I had made the cell once again livable for my newest toy, I went into the slaughter chamber where Claudia was awaiting her unknown fate.
She had calmed down some, but the sight of her friend Lisa’s bloodless and gutted corpse of appeared to keep her on the edge of panic. I must admit that this frantic facial expression somehow aroused me. So I stepped in front of her and began to touch her slim but feminine body, to caress it, and slowly to move to the region which from the beginning of time women have sold to men as the most priceless of jewels under the sun. And she in fact tried to bring her thighs together, which, of course, she couldn’t since she was fettered to the wall.
As I put my hand between her legs, I realized why she didn’t want me there. My finger encountered a wide-open flower. Her labia were fully turgid and the whole area was not merely moist but downright wet. She was ashamed to show me her arousal—especially the fact that the sight of her friend’s corpse elicited arousal and naturally, as I thought to myself, my presence as a cannibal. The idea of being eaten seemed to elicit unsuspected feelings in many representatives of the female sex.
I worked on Claudia some more, and as I penetrated her slit, seeking to find her small electrode to push her over, she uttered a long-suppressed moan. I looked her directly in the eye and saw how her pupils widened, her gaze locked with mine, her expression turned to lust, and to get her satisfaction, she thrust her pelvis against my hand. And then I apparently found her G-spot.
She uttered an insane scream, her pussy seemed to engulf my hand as if to swallow it and her eyes went glassy. She went momentarily unconscious. I’ve seldom seen a woman have such an orgasm.
Apparently there were several factors at work. Her body must have been subject to a veritable cocktail of emotions—stress, fear, sexual arousal, and doubtless joy hormones. My manipulation only dotted the i I had learned from someone who understood women.
I understand everything about the art of female cuisine. I can easily claim expertise, and I am a connoisseur and master of every aspect. But with the often crazy hormonal basis of the emotions of women, with their psyches, here I am, and remain, a mere boy, amazed the first time he sees a sparkler lit.
Groaning, Claudia came to and looked at me with her dark button eyes. Her look expressed disgust, hate, and contempt, only to change suddenly and to soften and to express love and gratitude, sweetness and devotion.
I had already often seen this transformation of emotions in my prey in my small slaughter chamber. But never before had such a look touched me. Never before had I had any reaction to such a look as I did now with Claudia.
Her eyes, which appeared like large marbles in their sockets, had somehow hit me where I live. But I couldn’t let her see. I had to work through it myself. So I freed Claudia from her fetters and carried her back to the cell. There I bound her on the cot and gave her something to drink. She must have been seriously dehydrated. Gratefully she drank the fluid in small sips. At the same time she watched me silently. But her look told me more than a thousand words. I left the cell hastily.
I still had to process Lisa’s carcass and make it ready to cook as well as preserve some parts. That couldn’t wait. So I went back into my small slaughter chamber and began to butcher Lisa’s carcass into pieces appropriate for my planned uses. First I divided the carcass into two halves with a power saw, cutting from the top down between the two legs. Then I cut the legs off just above the knees.
I intended to make ham out of each butt cheek and the attached upper thigh, fresh ham as well as cured. I would cut some steaks from the hips as well as the filet. I cut off the arms and the breasts. From the shoulders I intended to make my famous “Braised Woman” and from the ribs, of course, female spare ribs, etc. Naturally I’d do neck steaks which are especially good for grilling. From all the rest of Lisa’s parts, for which I had little other use—such as the feet, hands, parts of the head, and assorted entrails—I would separate the meat from the bones and use the former to make my famous female sausage.
As I silently worked, my thoughts kept returning to Claudia locked in her cell. How was I going to make her my slave and turn her into a cannibal? And it was important to me that Claudia like me. But—wait a moment here—have I become smitten somewhere along the line—can’t be—she’s only a project and at some point meat—exactly—I decide, and I’ll cook and eat her—the sweet little thing—at some point—
Friday, July 8, 19..
Unfortunately, I had no time yesterday. I was busy the whole day with my business. I didn’t even have much time for Claudia.
But somehow the girl was always in the back of my mind. I couldn’t concentrate on pressing matters. If I wasn’t careful, I could make a mistake. And in my situation, mistakes could be dangerous. They could finish me.
But back to Claudia. Yesterday I went to her cell, Freed her from the cot, and took her again into my slaughter chamber. There I again shackled her to the wall and cleaned up her body. She spoke not a word during the entire procedure, and when I then gave her something to drink, I was struck again by the look in her dark marble eyes. I left her and almost flew to throw a tenderloin steak from Lisa into the skillet.
Plain and simple that was exquisite. The meat melted on my tongue—in fact I get hungry again when I think back to yesterday’s dinner. Claudia should be ravenous today. She hasn’t eaten in days. I think I better feed her. We’ll see how she does. I shouldn’t give her too much. A small meal—perhaps a clear broth to start.
And somehow that look still gets to me.
Saturday, July 9, 19..
So, dear Diary, here I am again.
Yesterday evening I prepared a clear broth for Claudia and brought it to her in her cell. I fed it to her spoonfull by spoonfull. She regarded me silently and ate all without resistance. I think she knew very well the source of the broth.
Namely her friend Lisa, but she didn’t let on about that. Or her survival instinct had kicked in in the meantime and had become so strong that she simply refused to dwell on it. But I’ll se about that today. I intend to feed her another sirloin steak from Lisa. We’ll see if she accepts it. I think I’ll have more to report tomorrow evening, but right now I have to prepare dinner for Claudia and me.
Sunday, July 10, 19..
Well, I can report victory on all fronts.
Yes, I believe I’m on the right track with Claudia. Yesterday evening I cut two tender sirloin steaks from Lisa’s butchered and partly frozen carcass and prepared them with appropriate side dishes–rosemary potatoes, steamed broccoli, and green beans with bacon. I cooked both steaks medium—Claudia’s naturally only in hopes she’d accept it. I arranged everything nicely on two plates, put them on a small table, and brought it into Claudia’s cell. I then brought in two chairs, silverware, two glasses, and an appropriate wine.
The whole time, Claudia watched me silently with her large, dark eyes. When everything was ready, I released Claudia from her bonds to the point that she could sit at the table. I did shackle her feet so that she couldn’t run.
So she sat at the table, and after I had cut everything up into bite-size pieces—I still didn’t trust her with a knife—I handed her a fork saying “Good appetite.” She poked around at the plate thoughtfully, and then her hunger appeared to take the upper hand, and hesitantly she speared a piece of meat with her fork. When she took the piece in her mouth, she chewed gingerly, as if she could still hurt her friend. And then—then her expression changed. She took the next bite with obvious relish, and soon she was ravenously emptying her plate. Silently she held her plate out to me, and her expression asked for more.
“Gladly,” I said to her. “But you do know what, or whom, you are eating?” She only nodded and as if to confirm it, again held out her plate. Of course I prepared another portion of Lisa for her. And as I put the plate in front of her, she immediately fell to. That I had not expected from her. I had certainly intended to make a cannibal of her, but that I could do it so quickly—apparently I awoke something in her. Something that had wanted expression for a long time, something of which she herself was not aware, something that sat deep in her psyche and waited for its moment to be released.
So now I only had to make her my slave and everything would be perfect. I took away the table and chairs as well as all the eating paraphenalia and returned to take Claudia to the bathroom to take care of herself. Then I brought her into the slaughter chamber to clean her up. She had not spoken a word the entire evening but had regarded me with those dark eyes, with the look that seemed to penetrate deep in my soul and somehow moved me.
I still don’t know what it is, but I know that at least for the time being, that I—don’t want to do without—Claudia. As I went to bind Claudia on her cot again, that look struck me, and she uninhibitedly reached for my crotch to find what she had hoped for, my manhood stiffening at her touch. Quickly she unzipped my fly and pulled out my nearly fully erect penis.
She bent forward and took my best part in her mouth. And Claudia began to blow me to the point of my losing sight and hearing. I’d already intended to mount her, since it’s well known that after a meal a man should smoke or use a woman. And since I don’t smoke—but what Claudia accomplished exceeded my fondest imagination.
Either she was trying to save her life this way, or she not only accepted the situation in which she found herself but found it arousing. That it was the latter I established as I pushed her away, dropped my pants, and laid her on the cot. Willingly she opened her legs and presented me her already open pussy. The moist, glistening labia showed me how excited she was, and as I experimentally probed her opening with my finger, I found she was not merely moist, but actually wet with lust. Here a woman was waiting for a stiff organ to sink in her, to be penetrated, to have a hard sword pushed in her sheath, to receive love and lust. And to return it.
Accordingly, I didn’t make her wait any longer and shoved my rod deep in her ready vagina. I began to thrust roughly, which she met thrust for thrust. Soon our gasps and moans filled the air.
And it wasn’t long until I felt how her sheath contracted around my penis, milking it, and trying to draw it in deeper. At the same time, she seemed to cramp and bucked wildly. An orgasmic wave had overtaken her body, and that was all it took for me. I immediately felt a tingle in my gonads and then the dam of lust broke and I shot my seed deep inside her, to which she responded with renewed moans and thrusts against me.
We lay against each other breathing heavily. Amazed, I felt her tenderly caress the back of my head, but then she pulled her hand back. I got up and dressed fully and bound her on the cot. Again the look, and she still hadn’t said a word to me. Why does she avoid speaking to me? Why, dear Diary, won’t she talk with me?
To Be Continued
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