Chateau Scelus
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Nathalie was giddy like a schoolgirl, fidgeting excitedly on the couch. The twenty-two year old had been waiting patiently for her husband Stephan to reveal their anniversary gift to her for five minutes now, occasionally running her fingers through her mid-length, dyed purple hair. To say that the two had managed to keep the magic alive three years later was an understatement. Both still had that feeling of puppy love, like they had when they'd first met. Back when she was a freshman in highschool, and he a senior.
 
 
Stephan did this every year really, but today he was being particularly coy about it. Blindfolded as she was, Nat couldn't tell if he was even still in the room with her, until the sound of rustling paper filled the air nearby.
 
 
Moments later, two thin strips were pressed into the woman's hands. Was it money? No. Stephan was too creative for that. Maybe they were receipts for what he'd bought, or tickets to a concert!
 
 
"You can open your eyes now babe." said the young man, humored at her twitchy, excited antics.
 
 
"Oh finally! I was losing my mind!" Nathalie then ripped off the fabric she'd been blindfolded with, and took a moment to examine the little scraps. They were tickets, but not to any band. No, these were seats at Chateau Scelus! Only the most exclusive and secretive restaurant in the city! Reservations had to be placed a year in advance, and the meals, they'd both been told, were absolutely to die for! Each seat alone was five-hundred dollars, and the meal had tacked on twice as much.
 
 
"Stephen!" She couldn't hide her broad smile as she talked. "This is incredible! But… are you sure we can afford this?"
 
 
"I'm sure babe~" The young man beamed. "I've been doing some odd jobs on campus. IT stuff, handyman stuff… Anything I could do. All for us~"
 
 
"Ooooh! You're just too good to me!" Nathalie stood up to hug him tightly, and plant a deep kiss into his lips. "Is there anything I can do for you before we go?"
 
 
"Well, that reservation is for three hours from now. Why don't we spend a little time getting ready." He giggled. "Intimately, maybe?"
 
 
—
 
 
The two had spent a solid hour in the shower, enjoying each other's touch and using up every ounce of hot water they had. In fact they'd gotten so caught up in the moment that if things hadn't cooled down, they might have missed their time. Gussying up in their best took an hour, and the drive, another fifty minutes. Now, here they were. The building's modern interpretation of art deco architecture stood out amongst its more minimalist neighbors. Not quite to a gawdy degree. Rather, just enough to stand out. To show the world that it was something special.
 
 
Even from the parking lot, the two could pick up a potent, heavenly, savory scent from the restaurant. Not unlike that of a backyard barbecue. That is, if it were curated by a world-class chef. Inside, the smell was even more rapturous.
 
 
The lighting was kept dim and moody in the foyer. Romantic and anticipatory. No sooner had they entered, than had a smartly dressed woman with an impeccably maintained hairstyle approached them. She held a formal looking paper in one hand, and what appeared to be a… diabetic testing device in the other?
 
 
"Ah. Just in time." she began, looking in Nathalie's direction. "Here is the standard form for the lady's entry, and we'll need a drop of her blood as well."
 
 
Nathalie looked confused, but didn't question anything as she wrote her autograph down. She flinched at the needle's jab, but didn't resist. This was, after all, her first high society experience. She didn't want to appear ignorant.
 
 
"Is it my turn then?" asked Stephan, reaching for the pen.
 
 
The greeter simply shook her head. "Oh no sir. We only need a sample from your lovely wife." she explained with a practiced smile, before leading the two in.
 
 
Curiously, the main dining area had been curtained off from the entryway and, once the two were inside, so was each individual table in fact. Perhaps, as a famous haunt of wealthy couples, they wished to keep every party private, should the mood grow more amorous? Their stall was number thirteen, judging from the printed plaque above it.
 
 
"Good thing we're not superstitious, eh hon?" asked Nathalie, as she playfully jabbed her husband's side with her elbow.
 
 
Once seated in the soft, perfectly fluffed cushions of their booth, the two took stock of their surroundings with an almost childlike wonder. Was that mini-chandelier above them made of real gold? How did the restaurant keep the soft, flickering flames a mellow purple like that? In the end they decided that they didn't want to break the illusion of magic behind it all with answers. Instead, they held hands across the smooth, redwood table, whispering sweet nothings to each other until a waiter returned carrying a menu, and a complimentary bottle of red wine.
 
 
On opening the thin, ricepaper pages of the menu however, Stephan was confused to see not dishes, but simply numbers printed.
 
 
"Oh. Did we… get the wrong paper?" asked the young man, pointing to the lack of any information.
 
 
"Oh no sir." began the waiter. "You see, each of these numbers corresponds to a gourmet font of meat that has arrived so fresh, none of them have been here longer than a few hours." He smiled. That same professional smile that the greeter had given. "You simply pick a number, and our chefs will procure said meat for you and prepare a king's feast for you from it."
 
 
"But… how would they know what recipe we want?" asked Stephan.
 
 
For the briefest of moments both spouses thought they saw the waiter's smile grow just a touch impish. "Our chefs are the most elite cooks in the world, who work only with the most gourmet ingredients. Anything they can prepare will be better than a pre-planned meal, I assure you. Now, are there any allergies we need to worry about?"
 
 
Both Stephan and Nathalie shook their heads.
 
 
"Excellent. Now…" He produced a device that was little other than a keypad. "When you've made your decision, simply enter the number here. Enjoy your stay~" With that, he was gone.
 
 
It didn't take much debate for the two to reach their decision. They quickly landed on thirty-three, as March third had also been the date of their wedding three years ago today. Now, all that remained was to wait…
 
 
—
 
 
It was some fifteen minutes later that the waiter returned, accompanied by an older man in a cook's outfit. After adding a single glass of water to the table, as well as topping their wine off, both reached for Nathalie's hand.
 
 
"Come with us ma'am. Table thirteen has been chosen." he proclaimed.
 
 
Nathalie was so bewildered that she didn't even allow herself to question it, allowing herself to be led out.
 
 
"Hold on now. Chosen for what exactly?" Stephan stood up, only to be gently sat back down by the waiter.
 
 
"For tonight's business of course." replied the lad, as he closed the curtain before any further questions could be asked.
 
 
Nathalie felt almost as though she were a cow being led about by a farmer, rather than a valued customer. It was only when she approached the swinging kitchen doors that she noticed she wasn't the only woman being taken from her group. There were minimally six others all congregating here, led by the staff. Amongst them, Nathalie's eyes were drawn to a lovely redhead, not much older than herself, who looked equally as confused at what was happening.
 
 
Once all of the chosen guests had been collected, the burly man whom Nathalie had taken to be the head chef walked through the doors, gesturing for the group behind him to follow. It was only then, at the sight of numerous cooking stations, each kept private from the others via thin, heavy curtains, that the young woman managed to find her voice again.
 
 
"W-wait now… I don't even know what I'm doing back here. I-I'm not that good of a cook. It's usually my husband that does that and…"
 
 
The head chef interrupted her there. "You may not cook, but I do. Now. Drop the clothes. We'll hand them to your double when you're done."
 
 
Nathalie's jaw fell wide open. "E-excuse me?! I'm a married woman!"
 
 
"M-me too! What is this?" asked the redhead from earlier before she was escorted to another station.
 
 
"Need I remind you that you signed the entry waiver?" The man's voice was stern, yet… not quite angry. He sounded more like he was pressed for time. "Now, please remove your clothes. I can help you if you prefer, or you can do it on your own, but I would like to get to work quickly either way."
 
 
Nathalie stood there for a moment, before she sheepishly relented and unzipped her black dress from behind. It dropped to the floor, revealing the black lingerie she had hoped to save for her husband that night.
 
 
"Yeah. Those'll have to go too." said the man, with a sigh.
 
 
The lacy top was the first to drop to the floor, followed by her heels and her bottom soon after. Neither really left much to the imagination anyway, but this was a line she hadn't crossed with anyone but Stephan… ever really. It still felt more than a little violating to the girl, and yet as if her body were acting on its own, she kept going. Finally, when her pantyhose dropped, she was left utterly in her natural state, instinctively reaching over her chest and crossing her legs to cover herself as much as she possibly could.
 
 
"I-I honestly still don't know what's happening!" she blurted out, as the cook then gripped her by the shoulder and led her towards a wall where all of the other "volunteers" had congregated. She noticed that the area seemed cordoned off from the rest of the kitchen and that there was a large lateral drain beneath all of them. "Wh-what is this?"
 
 
"First time?" Rather than receive an answer from one of the staff, Nathalie's question was only acknowledged by one of the other women. A mature blonde who looked a decade and a half older than the girl. She had a look of bedroom ecstasy in her eyes, as she bit her lip before continuing. "We all go through it, but just remember, you can only pop that cherry once."
 
 
Nathalie was lined up with the others, mind reeling as she tried to figure out just what the woman was talking about. However, when a blast of cold water was sprayed onto her from both above and below, targeting her most… sensitive areas rather deeply, she found it difficult to remain focused. Even when the temperature finally shifted to something a bit more bearable, her thoughts were so scattered that she had no real hope of collecting them.
 
 
One by one after the impromptu shower, the women were herded back to the various stations, but not before their arms were tied tightly with leather straps behind their backs. Some whimpered pathetically as they were forcibly bent over for the restraints, while others had the unmistakable look of bedroom eyes written on their faces. Still others simply didn't seem to process what was happening. They were in denial. This couldn't really be happening to them, could it?
 
 
Regardless of what they seemed to think of it all, each of them were made to march back to where they'd begun. When Nathalie's turn inevitably came, all she could manage was an impotent mewl, bound like some common prisoner, before taking the same walk several others had before her. There was something inherently sensual about all of this, and Nathalie felt a touch ashamed that she would even begin to entertain such thoughts away from her hubby. She and Stephan had experimented with play for this sort of thing before in fact, but they'd never quite crossed the line into true BDSM. This, the idea that she might truly be enjoying this deep down, was what truly frightened her. Perhaps even more than the dangerous uncertainty she found herself in.
 
 
No sooner had she returned to where she started than had the chef produced a collar with the number thirteen on a tag dangling from it, and secured it snugly around her neck. "Ready then?" he asked flatly, before pulling a large barstool styled chair from just out of her view. "Have a seat."
 
 
There was something… distinct about the chair. Something he failed to mention, as though it were the most obvious detail any reasonable person would expect. Atop the seat was a massive, aggressively textured dildo. Nathalie was a bit balked at how she noticed right away… it was easily twice the size of Stephan's… equipment, and he wasn't exactly tiny either.
 
 
"Wh-what?! Why?!" she whined. "There's no way I can fit that thing!"
 
 
"All newbies say that." The man sighed. "And, all newbies actually do fit it quite well. We need to stretch you out first." Before Nathalie could say anything else he stepped forward to lift her, as she was squirming and lightly kicking, at the hips. "Here. Let me help. We have to stay on schedule."
 
 
There was a chorus of women's voices, heard, but not seen past the curtains, as he lifted her, holding her tensing backdoor over the threatening phallus. Some were moaning in ecstacy, and some were yelping in protest. Nathalie herself couldn't help but give a soft gasp, as her body slowly fell onto the massive toy. Never in her life had she felt quite so… full. Especially not back there. Every attempt to pull herself off was utterly futile. The chair was tall enough, without anywhere to stand, to prevent her from finding enough grip to stand, and heavy enough to prevent her from tipping it. All she could do was sit and wait, wondering what indignity would be inflicted on her next.
 
 
She didn't have to wait long to find out. Moments later, the man approached her, holding some kind of electronic device that she couldn't quite place. There was a long tube, made to resemble a… certain part of the male anatomy, that protruded from one side of the display, and something she could only think of as a small satellite dish on the other. After everything that had already happened, she had a good idea just what was going to happen with the former implement…
 
 
"J-just give me a moment. I-I'm not… Grrk!" She went wide-eyed as the long thing was pressed further and further into her mouth, until she was sure it rested deep in her stomach. "Mhh mhhh!"
 
 
"Relax sweetheart." said the cook, without taking his eyes off of the unknowable machine. "Just cleaning you out the rest of the way and getting your first mental scan." With that, he took the dish side of his device and began holding it uncomfortably close to her head.
 
 
Nathalie was beside herself, humiliated and yet simulated like never before. She could feel a slight tingle deep inside, as well as hear a soft, low buzzing from… what was apparently a scanner on the other end. She couldn't shake the feeling that… something was inside her mind. Not quite literally of course, but she wasn't alone in her thoughts anymore. It was simultaneously invading her privacy and yet… comforting, to be there in a way.
 
 
A loud squeal could be heard from the other side of the kitchen, startling Nathalie somewhat, though the chef continued to work unhindered. It was business as usual for him. Even when there was another scream some minutes later, then another.
 
 
Nathalie was relieved, and yet disappointed, when her cook finally removed the long, flexible, soft appendage from her mouth. She'd allowed herself to imagine what it would have been like if she really were taken from both ends by large well endowed men like that but… that was wrong, right? She was a married woman. She'd said it already. She couldn't have such fantasies. She loved Stephan!
 
 
"Good girl. Let's get you to the next step dear."
 
 
Strangely, the chef's words didn't hit Nathalie like she'd expected them to. At least not entirely. They instilled a certain dread in her, but it was less than she thought it would be. Perhaps she was simply too exhausted from the treatment but now… she was more curious now than anything. There was another scream as the two walked and, to the girl's shock, she was briefly treated to the sight of one of the other women's feet dangling just beneath a lateral pole. Suddenly she was confident that she knew where exactly the restaurant's fresh meat was sourced from. Suddenly she was struck with a fight or flight response and yet… she couldn't make herself run. Frightened as she was… she had to see more. To know more.
 
 
To her disappointment, the pole was then carried in the opposite direction, taking the woman and her legs with it. This prevented Nathalie from seeing exactly what was next, but her imagination filled enough of the blanks for her to paint a vivid picture of what it might be. Now her mind connected the dots. The number thirteen she'd been collared with. Someone had ordered her table. That meant that she and Stephan had ordered some other woman randomly. Perhaps that was part of Scelus's schtick. The uncertainty. She didn't know whether to be hurt or intrigued that her husband would be eating someone other than her. He was her man! It should be her that he was enjoying! At the moment however, she had very different concerns to contend with. Namely,a clean, chrome table with a raised bar halfway down its length, and an equally gleaming, sharpened pole that rested against it.
 
 
Nathalie knew deep down that no matter what she did, she was ending up on that table. Another kitchen hand stood on the side opposite her, ready to hold her down if it was needed, and the head chef remained stoically behind her. Despite using words like "sweetheart" with her, they had been unflinchingly firm, and she wasn't terribly eager to find out what they were capable of if they were angry. And so, she lifted one trembling leg up to rest on the shining surface, nearly stumbling forward as she did so.
 
 
"Easy there girl." The chef's tone was a bit worried for the first time since she'd met him. "Don't want you to trip and damage your display. Let us handle this."
 
 
Nathalie felt a bit sheepish. She guessed that, in all this, they'd wanted her to give a bit of a show for them, but this really was just business for them. Within seconds the chef had once more gripped her by the hips, whilst the assistant held her near the shoulders. Briefly she contemplated just how naughty this all was. To be given the attention of not one, but two men, on her and Stephan's anniversary no less. It was… so taboo that she couldn't help but be reminded of her more… childish fetishes, from her younger days. She still loved Stephan of course. More than anything in the world but… if this was going to happen, she could indulge a little. Surely he wouldn't blame her for that much…
 
 
With that, she was placed down onto the table, still shaking like a flier in the wind. Efficient and experienced, both employees had tied her ankles tightly to the corners within seconds, and she was somehow made even more helpless than before. Her hips rested atop the raised bar, leaving her ass in a frighteningly vulnerable position, while her chest was pressed firmly into the cold metal beneath. The way her breath quickened only made the sensation worse, but rather than struggle, she remained there, paralyzed and uncertain about just how she wanted to feel about this. That is, until the point touched her backdoor… She was then, very quickly reminded of how a reasonable person would react. Suddenly her fantasy popped like a bubble, and she was returned to the reality of her situation…
 
 
"W-wait!" Her voice returned to her, in full force. "I-I need to say something!"
 
 
"Hush sweety." insisted the chef. "You're gonna scare the other new sows."
 
 
"B-but… Look! M-my husband and I… We didn't know about this place before… EEK!" She was interrupted the moment she felt the spike push through her meager defenses. In an instant she was reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess.
 
 
She could feel it, uncaringly spreading her wide open. The dildo from earlier had stretched her out a bit but even still, she was nowhere near prepared for this. Deeper and deeper it pressed in, until she could feel it begin to forcibly straighten her out. Panic began to well up in her even more. Oh god… This was it… It was really happening! Unfortunately for her, the combination of her bindings, and the rigid piece of metal now firmly pressed some ten centimeters into her, ensured there was absolutely no way she could buck or kick back.
 
 
"W-wait! Give me just a sec to get ready!" she pleaded.
 
 
She wasn't given that moment, however. There was a slight pinching sensation somewhere in her stomach, but only for the briefest of moments. Suddenly she felt the pole jut somewhere into her belly, without giving her any rest.
 
 
"Guh… guh… H-hold on…" She felt as though her own volition was taken from her. It was harder to move now. "I can't…"
 
 
Unhindered, the spear forced its way further, until she could feel it climbing up her throat. No amount of instinctive swallowing pushed it back down however. It was marching through her with a mission.
 
 
"Ugh… N-no! Gugh… URK!" Just like that, the tip exited her mouth, forcing her to stare at it like it was the most alien sight in the world. She'd been skewered like a stuck pig. Reduced to meat. Whoever ordered table thirteen better damn well enjoy this! She was surprised that this was her first thought, while the men next unbound her feet and retied them to the back end of the spear.
 
 
Soon after, with a few grunts and groans, both men had lifted poor Nathalie up onto their shoulders, and were briskly walking her over to the next area. Even from here she could feel the heat begin to rise, but at the very least it wasn't unbearable… yet.
 
 
Every second felt like a minute at least, for her now. The walk seemed like it lasted forever while she bounced helplessly for all of it. When the pathway finally opened up however, she was greeted with a sight she expected, but wasn't ready to see nonetheless. To the right was an absolutely massive, automated roasting grotto. At least five other women were turning over bright blue gas fires, as if they were nothing more than animals. Lechon to be enjoyed by the men out there. Many of them were staring, wide eyed forward, in a combination of terror and disbelief. Two of these… piglets however, had nothing less than a look of pure bliss in their eyes, as though they'd climaxed very recently, and were drunk on a pleasure high.
 
 
Nathalie felt particularly bad for those of them that were particularly… endowed. She could see the heft of their breasts flop down rather harshly with each turn of the spit, which couldn't have been very comfortable, to say the least. How could these people do something so dehumanizing to these poor women? To her?! What would poor Stephan think when she didn't return to him? What would he think when he received his meal? Would he be disgusted? Would something awaken in him? He hadn't known about how this place worked beforehand… had he?
 
 
That thought stuck with her, even as the men affixed her pole to one of the roasting stations. Had he known? Oh god… What if he did? What if he was doing this to her on purpose? What if, right now, at that table, he was enjoying the mental image of her being made to endure all this? Her mind was spinning, and once the button nearby was hit, causing her to rotate, it was even more so.
 
 
There was a silent hissing noise underneath the girl. It took her several increasingly frightened moments to realize that it was the gas of the roaster being turned on. This was it… There was no coming back from this… Not that there would have been beforehand but…
 
 
WHOOSH!
 
 
The sound was almost more shocking than the feeling of the flames themselves, and Nathalie couldn't help but flinch and squeal. Immediately the heat began to assault her squirming body, everywhere but her head, it appeared. Perhaps they wanted to hand it over to someone as a macabre memento. The thought alone sent shivers down her spine, despite the obvious tongues of flame that assaulted it. Who would it go to? The table that ordered her? Or to her husband? What would they do with it?
 
 
Her eyes darted around as she turned, and her mind raced. Now and again, out of the corner of her eye, she would catch a glimpse of one of the others. Either in the reflection of the chrome tables, on which the cooks were all working tirelessly, or directly when she was rotated on her side. Many of them were struggling to keep their eyes open, though some were still more than alert, whimpering and crying as their bodies were roasted like nothing more than common ham. Some of them even managed to eek out a climax or two, and Nathalie wondered how they could be not only calm, but aroused through it all.
 
Now and again, two of the cooks would shut one of the pits off, and then carefully remove the woman before carrying them off to the other side. If the poor bitch was still alive, she would inevitably squirm and writhe, trying desperately to get comfortable at the new angle she found herself. The kitchen workers would then thoroughly inspect every inch of her partially roasted body. Finding any spots that were still particularly raw, or basting the places that seemed to be drying out the most. On occasion, they would mercilessly jam a large, thick tube into the meat’s love tunnel, inevitably causing her to buck wildly. Nathalie wasn’t sure what exactly that was for, but she’d come to dread her turn…
 
 
—
 
 
She didn’t have to wait long. Some fifteen minutes into her experience, she felt the heat suddenly stop, and saw the glow around her die down.
 
 
“Mhhh… Mhhh!” Her eyes widened as her spit was lifted up by two men wearing heat resistant gloves. It felt disorienting to be taken from a consistent spinning motion, to suddenly bouncing with each step that her carriers took. “Mngh!”
 
One of the cooks smirked as he looked back at her, then to his colleague. “How much you wanna bet we can get this one to cum hard. She looks like she’s a fence-sitter. Not sure how to feel about it. You know?”
 
 
Nathalie wanted to give an indignant glare, but all she could manage was to stare forward, wide eyed. “Mnnnhhhh!”
 
 
“Heh. That doesn’t seem like a fair bet. The unsure ones are always the ones that pop the hardest.” answered the cook behind her. “But the hell with it. Fifteen says you can’t get her to juice.”
 
 
“Observe.” Both men laid her down, tits up on the table, as the first cook then proceeded to grope and massage every inch of her delicate flesh, probing for her most sensitive spots.
 
 
Nathalie attempted to remain as stoic as possible, if for no other reason than spite. She still had her dignity. Besides, how did he think he was going to get her to feel anything seeing as how she was skewered like aaaaaoooOOHH GAWD!
 
 
The cook smiled as he found her first sweet zone. Just inside her thigh, not quite teasing her bare pussy just yet. “Heh. Easy.” he thought aloud. “She’s already halfway there.”
 
 
The other cook scoffed. “Yeah. I kinda assumed you’d be… you know. Working too. Anyone could get a sow to juice if they were focusing just on that.”
 
“Yeah yeah. I’m not a cheater…”
 
 
The fact that they were not only turning her into a sexual object, but making casual bets about it, when she was going to DIE should have frustrated Nathalie more than it did, but that… felt… amazing… Not to mention that she’d had her own little fantasy in the impaling room. She was… guilty herself after all. “MNNNGH! MHH MHH!” Suddenly she felt firm bristles of a basting brush leave something glistening in the same spot. The brush went up, and down her entire leg, occasionally stopping at that magic area to tease it a little more. She was ashamed to feel her outer lips puff up in excitement. Many nights in bed, Stephan would get her to be a slippery mess just by taunting her, right… there… All she could do was helplessly wiggle on her pole as he worked, feeling that moment where she’d make a fool of herself grow closer and closer…
 
“Come on man… Some of the other ones are gonna dry out!” Either the second cook was more invested in his job, or he was desperate not to lose his money.
 
 
“Okay fine. Guess she’s got better stamina than I thought.” With that, he took the brush, along with its cold, slick, seasoned oil, and next began to work in more broad strokes, all over her body. It was actually quite relieving… after being over the flames for so long. At the very least she had retained her pride…
 
 
Or so she’d been naive enough to think. She let her guard down, and allowed herself to celebrate a premature victory. With her head forced forward, she hadn’t seen the massive stuffing tube from her earlier observations, and honestly she’d even forgotten about it. “MEEEGGPH!” Rather suddenly, she felt an impossible girth stuffed into her ladyhood, just before the sensation of something soft and malleable being forced deep into her lady bits. Her attempts to breathe in and out slowly quickly devolved into desperate gasps as the feeling of being filled up took over her body. It just… kept… coming! She could feel her love tunnel expand and contract with each load that was pumped in. Just how much did they expect her poor body to be able to hold?!
 
 
Some time later, after she could swear the stuffing had penetrated all the way into her womb, she felt it rising. Why now? Why to this? Despite her attempts to restrain it, it all came so fast that she simply hadn’t had the time to steel herself for it. “MEEEEHHHH! MNNH… MNNH…” Without much in the way of warning, she orgasmed harder than she had since her honeymoon, three years ago. She wanted to disappear, she wanted to wake up from all this. Nothing up until this point had caused her to be so embarrassed. How humiliating…
 
 
“Hah! Told you! Pay up pal~” The first cook practically danced in place at having turned the girl’s shame to financial gain.
 
“Aww man… I almost had it.” His partner didn’t seem quite as frustrated at the loss as she might have thought, not that she had much room to think, between the humiliation and the afterglow of her climax.
 
 
Moments later, the violating tube was finally pulled out, and replaced with some kind of broad vegetable that added one final insult to everything. The men were efficient at hefting her up and back to her own personal roasting pit once more, and within seconds she was again left to roast in her own good time over the flames.
 
 
—
 
 
Nathalie wasn’t sure how much time had passed. All she knew was that the scent that filled the kitchen was absolutely delicious. She couldn’t understand quite how she had lasted this long. Most of the others had stopped moving some minutes ago, but here she remained. However, the time was rapidly approaching now. Her eyes were so heavy, and it was getting so hard to move.
 
 
L-love you Stephan… The thought echoed through her mind. She wanted it to be the last thing she thought about. Sorry… I couldn’t make it back home for our anniversary night…
 
 
The world was growing more and more faint with every second. She could barely even process the motions of turning on the spit any longer. This was it. All she could hope for was that whoever ordered table thirteen would appreciate what she’d given here… even if she didn’t do it normally. With that… her eyes closed for the last time as she saw one of the kitchen hands approach her with another scanning device…
 
 
—
 
 
Or… so she thought? Just as Nathalie expected everything to go dark she found herself in a thick glass tank of some kind, lying down on her back as if it had all been some kind of perverse dream. Once the ceiling had receded, giving her room to do so, she sat up, staring wide eyed at the world around her. This… definitely wasn’t home. It was a lab or… something to that effect. There was a distinct scent in the air as she got her bearings. One that she’d become… very intimately familiar with. It was the scent of roasted femme…
 
Still, she wanted, for a moment, to believe that all that had been some… deeply repressed wet dream or… something. How else would she still be here? Risking to stand up, she slowly emerged from the tank, only to be greeted with the sight of the same man that had taken her back to the kitchen with the chef in her… “dream”. She was practically jolted out of her skin to see him.
 
“Wh-what is this?” She looked around with the energy and speed of a frightened bird.. “Where am I? W-was all that…”
 
“Real?” The waiter interrupted her, as he held up the outfit she’d been made to strip out of earlier. “Yes. It was. As for where you are, this is our cloning lab. The materials for your clone were paid for in advance in your ticket you see.”
 
Nathalie snatched her bra from him as though she were regaining a stolen purse from a thief. “Wh… Then… you really did… all that to me? B-but I didn’t… die?”
 
“Oh you did. This is just… another body. We… like to leave it up to you… to interpret whether you are the original… or a copy.” He gave a slightly rueful smile, then handed her her panties next. “When you’re done dressing, I’ll escort you back.”
 
Nathalie took her time regaining her modesty. Spending much of it trying to think of how exactly she would approach Stephan. Alas, in the end, she failed to truly come to a satisfying conclusion. As a large serving cart bearing a suspiciously sized, covered platter was wheeled her way, she was once again escorted out, this time back to the dining area.
 
 
The relief on Stephan's face as Nathalie parted the curtains was palpable, and the girl couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for thinking he would have knowingly done all this.
 
 
"Oh Nat! There you are!" He quickly stood up to plant a kiss on her lips. "You were in there so long I was beginning to be afraid they would cook you." He chuckled at the absurdity of the concept, giving Nathalie the last confirmation she needed to know he'd been just as much in the dark as she was beforehand. When his eyes turned to the serving cart he couldn't help but lick his lips, still blissfully ignorant about what was inside. "Is that all for us?"
 
 
Nathalie's mind rang loudly with ideas of how to explain exactly what had happened, yet the more she thought of it, the more she realized… her internal tone wasn't sorrowful or fearful or… even hurt. It was excited. Looking back at all, it was so intense. So taboo. So wild. Maybe she was just coping but… she might even have… enjoyed herself. Besides. He'd understand in a moment what transpired.
 
 
Stephan's eyes went wide when the waiter finally removed the cover. Was this real? He didn't have to open his mouth for Nathalie to know what he was thinking.
 
 
There, tastefully parted out into various cuts and visually appealing portions, was the redhead who’d been just as panickedly confused as Nathalie had been at the start of all this. The poor young woman’s head was kept perfectly preserved, staring lifelessly out onto the table, unlike the rest of her, which had been roasted to a tantalizing golden brown. It wasn’t lost on Nathalie that, over at table thirty-three, she was now sitting with her own party again, perhaps trying to process what all had happened to her as she observed the professionally roasted font of meat from another woman. To say it was all surreal would have been an understatement.
 
 
—
 
 
It took some time, but eventually Stephan was convinced to try his first bite of the redhead’s savory body. He wasn’t sure which was more shocking, the fact that he was engaging in cannibalism, or the fact that his wife almost seemed to be actively encouraging him. In fact Nathalie had been the first to taste a small cut from the girl’s pert rear. She didn’t give a sound, but instead had gone straight into another bite, even greedily carving off a much larger portion for herself. Once Stephan had started, it was practically a blink’s time before the sow’s entire backside had been devoured.
 
As the two moved on, grazing slowly on their meal’s wings next, they couldn’t help but absently discuss who amongst their friend group would be most fitting for their next outing here, should they be able to save up again. Both had adapted to the reality of what they were doing surprisingly well, in the span of only a few minutes. The absolute gourmet flavor of their meal certainly helped that transition, at any rate. Melissa’s name kept coming up. Nathalie’s Coworker. The woman already had a mouth watering body, with a perfect balance of shape and marbling, and they could only imagine how her flesh might taste. As for Nathalie… an hour ago she never would have even entertained such a thought but… she determined that… she wouldn’t mind taking another ride someday herself…