Cunt Steak

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Cunt Steak

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Storycodes: Solo-f; M/f; prepare; cook; eat; machine; cons; X
"Chelsea, table five wants a cunt steak, medium well, no cut!" Andrea called from the counter.

"On it!" Chelsea answered. Being a Grade-A meatgirl, she knew she could get "The Call" at anytime, so she was only wearing a bathrobe. Some places had their meatgirls walk around naked at all times, but Anderson's had a strict policy against that - they didn't want the other workers distracted.

On her way back, Chelsea passed a preparation room. Her best friend, Rebecca, was currently being stuffed. This was actually less common than popular belief - a proper full-body roast job took hours to prepare, and of course could not be eaten by one person, no matter how hungry they were. Chelsea envied her friend for the experience she was undergoing. Judging by Rebecca’s face, she was in total ecstasy.

Chelsea hung up her bathrobe outside one of the self-cooking rooms, and hit up the controls for the Jessica 5000. A few places still used the venerable 3000 roaster, but the Jessica 5000 was a multicooker. It could do just about any job except ovens or boiling, while being no larger than its predecessor. Chelsea briefly eyed the spit at one end before activating the cunt grill. She punched in “medium well”, and the machine came to life.

Chelsea straddled the Jessica 5000 like a horse, with one leg on either side. She carefully lowered her pussy onto the grill. As she settled into position, leg clamps activated automatically, locking her in. Above, a harness descended, and Chelsea obligingly raised her arms, placing her wrists into their clamps. The clamps weren’t to prevent the girls from escaping – meatgirls were all consenting. In fact, they were unionized – Rebecca was also the president of the local chapter. The clamps merely held Chelsea still. They also added to the experience, in her opinion. She was completely helpless. There was nothing she could do to stop it.

The grill got very hot very quickly. Chelsea could feel the heat just radiating from it. It was like being outside in Arizona in the summer, only the heat was coming from below… and concentrated on her nether regions. She felt the intensity building – the slow buildup to climax. Her pussy was already wet. After five minutes, Chelsea felt her juices begin to sizzle. The heat was incredible. The pleasure was coming in waves, more and stronger, until her first orgasm took her. The next came less than two minutes later.

Fifteen minutes after the machine was turned on, Chelsea’s pussy was done cooking. The grill turned off, but the clamps remained in place. Her pussy needed a few minutes to cool off – and she needed a few minutes to recover from the experience.

Once her clamps released, Chelsea walked out of the room, down the corridor that lead to the final preparation room. The butcher, Kevin, waved at her.

“Got an appointment, Chelsea?”

“Sorry, Kevin. Not this time!” she replied.

She walked out of the preparation room, still completely naked. She found Table Five, where a young man was sitting. She nonchalantly hopped onto the rotating section, and slipped her ankles into a pair of ankle clamps at one end. Again, this was just to keep her still. The control was near her head, and her arms were free.

“Dig in,” she said, then laid back as the man began devouring her cuntsteak. She quivered as he sliced off her clit. Then he started cutting small pieces off of her womanhood, triggering yet another orgasm. It was even more incredible than the cooking process. As he finished her labia, he gestured with his fork to her left breast.

“May I have a nipple?” he asked.

“Go ahead.” The man had paid for her cunt, but he still needed permission from her to eat any other parts of her body. Chelsea moaned as he cut off her left nipple. Eventually, he put down his fork and knife. He signaled another waitress – Emma – who brought the check. After signing, he got up, thanked Chelsea, and left.

Chelsea released her leg clamps, but just lay there for a minute. She then got up, got off the table, and walked back into the kitchen area, bypassing the grills and cooking rooms, finding the room which contained a little piece of technology that made all this possible.

The Regenerator.

Developed ten years ago, the Regenerator had revolutionized modern medicine. So long as the central nervous system and vital organs were intact, it could heal almost any injuries in a matter of hours – depending, of course, on how much damage had been sustained. Chelsea lay back in the machine. A pair of electrodes slid up to her head, and she fell asleep within seconds as they triggered a massive buildup of serotonin.

It had taken about a year before the Regenerator had become cheap enough to be used for something like this. And the public had taken time to accept the idea of eating people – even if they were not only consenting, but would survive the process unharmed. But in time, such restaurants became common. Some even suggested that eating animals was no longer necessary, now that we had a way to eat humans without violating any ethical codes.

An hour or so later, Chelsea woke up. Her pussy was completely restored, along with her left nipple. It was like nothing had happened. She got out, put on another bathrobe, and resumed her place with the other meatgirls.

Forty minutes later, she was back in the cooking room, this time grilling her breasts.

It was just another day at work.


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A heavy, damp fog covered the waters ahead. Standing at the prow of the little boat, I couldn't make anything out in front of us. The Captain said we were nearly at our destination, but I was begining to think he was off course.
As I'd heard the story told, sometime around a thousand years ago, a section of land broke loose from Austrailia. It seems the shape and composition of the land was such that, insted of falling into the waters, the piece floated.
Over the next century, the new island moved farther and farther from the mother continent. Caught in the currents, it stayed in the proximity of Australia, but moved in eratic patterns. For centuries people tried to located the, now lost island. Those that were successful, failed. They never returned to tell of their success.
In the latter part of the nineteenth century, Darrian White managed to find the island. Darrian White was a historian and an adventurer. He managed to find, visit, and return from the island. Not only that, he was said to have become some sort of god to the people still living there; the descendants of the original tribes.
Through settling of the island, Darrian White laid claim to the island and everything on it. Including the diomonds and gold he found. When he died, he passed ownership on to his son, who followed in his father's footsteps and passed it on to his son.
At the time I made the trip, it was said that a person could satisfy any desire on the island--as long as the price was right.
I was thinking about the money this trip had cost me--a year's salary--when the island seemed to form out of the fog and mist that covered the water. I mean it almost seemed the fog solidified and formed the island shore.
The scean was from the pages of a travle brochure. White sand beaches, palm trees, even a mountain, thrusting up out of the jungle like some phallic god-symbol. It certainly looked like a primitive island, inhabited by savages. I didn't see any sort of dock. The waves broke freely on the shores, and the beaches looked deserted. Whear were we going to put in? I couldn't believe that the Captain would just run the boat aground.
I was right about that. We cut the engines and began to drift slowly in to shore. Was I expected to swim? I was getting nervous when I spotted a dingy coming out to meet us. I grabbed my suitcase and waited. Twenty minutes later I was in a jeep headed towards a large house in the interior.
The house was huge, and we spent twenty minutes or more on manicured grounds before pulling up in front of the mansion.
The place seemed to be swarming with beautiful, young women. All nationalities were represented. Every body type seemed to be there. Short and petite. Tall and buxom. Even the in-betweens. The one thing they all had in common was seemingly ideal proportions and beauty. From angelic innocence to sultry sensuality. It was all there. I wondered if any of them would be available.
At the house I met Thomas White in person. He came to meet me, and treated me like a friend not seen in many years.
"Mr. Clark! I'm so happy to have you as my guest!" He took my hand in a firm grip, shking it vigorusly once, twice, then releasing it.
"It's great to finally be here," I replied.
"I'll have your bags taken to your room. I would like to talk to you about tomorrow's feast."
He motioned me towards the door and fell in beside me as we entered his house. The entrance hall was modest and very tropical in flavor. I followed him into an enormus room that would have been more at ease in a city library than a tropical mansion.
"Please, you're my host," I interupted. "It's Jim."
"Jim, have you had the chance to see some of the choices we offer here? I'm sure there were several of the women on the grounds as you came up."
"It seemed like hundreds. They were all gorgeous. I couldn't tell which of them were guests and which work here."
"None of them work here," he chuckled. "And none of them are guests. They all live here. You," he anounced grandly, "Will chose one of them to roast for tomorrow's dinner."
I walked the grounds, looking at the young women. I was so excited and turned on that I was afraid my condition would be obvious from the bulge in my pants. I couldn't believe that we would be roasting and eating one of these lovely young things tomorrow.
Thomas had explained how he managed to get so many beautiful women on the island. He had recruiters all over the world. Most of the girls were in a tight financial situation. They, or their families, needed large sums of money in a hurry. Some of them were just greedy. In any case, they were offered one hundred thousand US dollars to come to this island to live for one year.
Arrangments could be made to have the money given to thier families immediatly if they wished. At the end of one year an additional hundred thousand dollars would be paid to the woman as she left. If, for any reason, the girl didn't leave the island, the money would be paid to her family.
They were all told that they were essentially selling themselves into slavery for that time. During that year they were the property of Mr. White, and they would be required to serve him, and his guests, in any way asked of them. Nothing was hidden from them. They were also told that Mr. White and some of his guests had a taste for female flesh. They all decided that, since there was always between four and five hundred girls on the island at any time, the odds were in their favor.
Thomas also told me that most of the women knew I was here and that I would be choosing one of them for dinner. I wondered how that would affect them as I met them. When I asked about it Thomas just grinned and said I'd have to find out.
A pretty little blonde was sunning herself on the lawn. She sat in a lounge facing out over a lagoon. Her skin was tanned a light brown and glistened with lotion. The thong bathing suit that tried, in vain, to cover her was almost the same shade of tan.
I stopped beside her and stood looking down at her slender body. Her young breasts were small and firm. The pert nipples pressed against the fabric of her top. Her face was innocence personified. She looked as if she was no older than fifteen, even though I'd been assured that they were all of legal age to sign the contract; at least in their own countries. This girl looked to be European or of European descent. I figured she had to be at least eighteen.
She sensed me looking at her and opened her eyes. When she saw the way I was dressed--the workers wore shirts with the island logo--she jumped out of the lounge and knelt in front of me. Her knees were spread wide apart, her hands were laid, palms up, on her thighs. Her head was lowered, her eyes on the ground.
"What's your name?" I asked her softly.
"I am called Lisa, Sir. If that pleases you."
She got to her feet and stood looking at the ground. I put my hand under her chin and raised her head. Her eyes were malachite green. The top of her head barely came to my chest. Her lips were full and slightly poutty. Her innocence made her even more sexy and definitely more desirable for dinner.
"Do you like the way I look, Sir?" she timidly whispered.
Before answering I slipped the straps of her top from her shoulders and pulled the cloth from her breasts. Her nipples were very dark and large. I cupped a breast in my palm and squeezed it firmly. She held her breath and her teeth caressed her lower lip as my thumb brushed over the tender morsel of her nipple.
I released her breast and walked behind her. The girl's legs were firm, with nicely toned muscles. Her ass looked tight and round. I ran both my hands over the cloth covered cheeks. They felt like they would cook very nicely.
"Yes, Lisa. I like the way you look very much."
I nodded my head and watched her expression as she realized that I was considering her a prime candidate for my dinner. Her eyes got larger and she bit her lip again. This time I was afraid she might draw blood. She began to tremble and I saw the idea of running cross her face.
I motioned for the guide Thomas had supplied to come closer. When I indicated the girl he quickly snapped a light chain to a tiny ring set in the thin collar around the girl's neck.
"Sir," Lisa began, her voice quivering. She stopped, took a deep breath and started over. "Sir, if I can. I know someone that would taste better than me."
"Oh? Maybe you should tell me who this girl is and where I can find her." I bit at the inside of my mouth to keep from grinning.
Lisa nodded towards the lagoon. "Swimming. Down there."
I asked Lisa some questions as we walked. I discovered that she was born in India. Her father was British and her mother Indian. When her father returned to England he'd promised to return for her and her mother, but never had. Lisa was just past her seventeenth birthday, and had been on the island for over nine months. I'm sure she was feeling desperate to find some way out of ending up on the table, served for my dinner.
We walked to the shore of the lagoon and I watched the buxom brunette bathing in the water. Her hair was just shoulder length. Her breasts were too big to stand up "pert and perky." Instead, they rested majestically on her chest. The large, dark arioles were crinkled with the cold from her swim, and the nipples were hard and tight. Just looking at them made me want them in my mouth.
Lisa called to her and waved her in. I watched her closely as she walked out of the water. Lisa was right. This girl probably would roast better. I could tell from the way she moved, the muscles flowing smoothly beneath her skin, that she had better muscle tone.
"Sir, this is Carol. I really think you will like her." Lisa turned to the brunette and she smiled expectantly, the way someone might if they are telling a joke and anticipating the reaction to the punch line.
"Carol, this is Mr. White's guest, Mr. Clark." I don't know what Lisa expected but Carol certainly knew who I was. Her eyes got huge as she stared at me. Her hands fluttered around her breasts and over her vaginal mound as if she could cover herself with them. Her mouth opened in an OH, and she took two steps back. The regal composure she'd shown walking from the water was gone.
"Stand still, girl," the guide snapped.
Carol stood ridged, eyeing me nervously as I looked her over. Her face was more mature than Lisa's, although Lisa assured me she was only eighteen. She was also more classically beautiful than Lisa.
Carol had high, fine cheeks and dark eyes. Her lips were so red that she looked, from a distance, as if she had lipstick on. Her breasts were very full and large, but they were also extremely firm as I discovered. Her hips were wider, more developed than Lisa's, and her legs were longer. The girl was beautiful. I mean she was super-modal material.
"I'll take them both back to the house," I told the guide. "I'll decide there which one to have roasted for dinner tomorrow."
Lisa looked surprised and worried. She just shook her head back and forth. Carol, on the other hand, nearly fainted at my words. The guide hooked the other end of the chain he had Lisa on, to Carol's collar. He gripped the chain in the center so that he effectively had two leashes. We set off for the mansion.
I was looking at the two girls standing nude in my room. They both looked delicious, each in a different way. I just couldn't make up my mind which one I wanted to eat. I decided to test their reactions.
Before coming to my rooms I'd asked the guide to take us on a tour of the kitchen. I wanted the girls to see the arraignments being made to cook one of them. They both seemed hypnotized by the fire pits, one of which would be used to roast the chosen one. Then, when they saw the impaling rod that would skewer one of them, they shrank away from it as if it was alive and might jump at them.
The chef had been there and he looked both girls over. He told me that Carol would probably roast better, but the innocent one would be more fun to prepare and eat. While he talked I kept an eye on both girls. Carol had approached the impaling rods. She was running her hands over the sharp tip of one of the rods. Her eyes were half closed and she was breathing heavily. Lisa hadn't gone near it, but she watched Carol and I caught her brushing her pussy mound with her hand. Her fingers were parting the lips and caressing the tender clit.
When I called them to follow us to my rooms, they both jumped. I took no notice.
"Starting with Lisa, each of you will come to me and do your best to please me. While you do, you will tell me why you think I should eat the other one. The one that serves me best, and has the most convincing argument, wins. I will have the other one roasted for tomorrow's dinner."
I reclined on the stuffed lounge at the foot of my bed. It was old Grecian in style and very comfortable. I opened my legs, putting a foot on the floor at both sides of the lounge. As I did, I parted my robe to expose a very stiff erection. My cock hadn't been that hard since I was eighteen.
"Lay there between my thighs, Lisa. Tease me with your hands and tongue for a while. I want to ask you some questions." "What did you think of the kitchen?" I asked Lisa as her soft fingers lightly caressed my swollen penis. A drop of clear liquid was already forming at the tip.
"It scared me," Lisa whispered, staring at the head of my tool. She lowered her mouth to the tip of my cock and licked the thick liquid from it. The look on her face was
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