School Fundraiser

by Le Chat

Author's note: This story was inspired by the drawings of Dolcett, and more directly, by the stories of Splyf ("Visit to the Restaurant", "Dolcett Palace", "Westworld", and others).  The story was written around Splyf's favourite characters and was submitted here with his approval.

"Welcome to Merle's Bar and Grill!  A table for four?"  The Malcolm family was greeted at the door by a nude waitress.  She looked very young but, as Brent didn't fail to notice, her slender frame was adorned with a pair of fairly large breasts.

"Joanne?"  That was Trine, who came in last.  "I thought you only helped in the kitchen?"  She and Joanne were classmates.  As Trine knew, Joanne's father owned the restaurant, and Joanne often earned her allowance by washing dishes and doing other small jobs in the kitchen on evenings and weekends.

"Oh, hi Trine!"  Joanne looked a bit embarrassed.  "This way, please," she said addressing the Malcolms, and started towards one of the few empty tables at the other end of the restaurant.  "Well, funny thing happened today," she turned back to Trine.  "There was this big party earlier today, and they ordered three of our waitresses.  After that the kitchen was short on meat, and with so many customers today" – she gestured towards the crowded main room and bar – "well, dad made mom and me serve the tables!  Can you believe it?"  Trine couldn't tell whether the girl was more outraged or thrilled.

"Wow, does that mean you are going to be, you know…"

"Cooked?  I'm afraid so, yes.  Mom has already been ordered, or part of her, anyway.  Now it's just a matter of time before my turn comes: the place doesn't close for five more hours."

"Oh…" Trine wasn't sure what else to say.

The group made their way through the crowded room appointed in rustic style, with exposed wooden beams and an enormous cast iron pot suspended by chains in the middle.  Other nude waitresses were bustling between tables, some already missing a breast or an arm.  As they passed close to the pot, they saw that it was occupied by two splashing and giggling teenage girls.  A low fire was burning under the pot, but, having been in the restaurant before, Trine knew that this was just an innocuous attraction: the water inside the pot steamed but never boiled, and as for the girls, they must have been the daughters of some restaurant patrons, having the time of their life.

Next to the pot there were two brick-laid coal pits.  These were quite real – in fact, one of them featured a young woman on a spit, already roasted to an appetizing golden-brown color.  Her aroma wafted across the room and made everyone's mouth water.  "That's Trish," Joanne pointed at the woman, knowingly.  "She was with us for almost a week."

"Do you know how you will be prepared?" asked Trine once they reached their table.

"No, that's up to whoever orders me first.  I kind of hope for a spit-roasting though," Joanne added with an unexpected giggle, taking another look over her shoulder at what was once Trish.  "I mean, if I must be cooked anyway."

"That's pretty hard-core!" Trine's brother Brent cut into conversation.  "Having a pole shoved up your ass…"

"Brent!" his mother cut him off.

"I know, but it's so sexy!"  Joanne smiled coquettishly, looking not at Brent but at his father.  "Are you ready to order or do you need some more time?"

"We need a few more minutes," Mr. Malcolm said while studying the menu.

"I am afraid we can't order you," Trine whispered apologetically to the young waitress.  Her family often dined at Merle's on Saturday nights, but except for big occasions, they usually ordered cuts, which were much more affordable than a live girl.

"That's OK, I understand.  You can still get some of my mom if you want – she has already been butchered.  Dad chopped off her head himself!  Just let me know when you order."  As she walked away, Brent stared wistfully at the girl's white, smooth, lightly swaying rear.

"That was your friend from school?" asked Mrs. Malcolm after Joanne left.  "Such a nice girl!  I hope next Saturday you will do as good a job as she."

"Um, what do you mean?" Trine looked at her mom, alarmed.

"Oh… Didn't your father tell you?" The woman gave her husband a concerned look.

"I thought you told her.  I…" Mr. Malcolm didn't finish.

"Tell me what?  What are you guys talking about?"  Trine had a bad feeling about this and she looked anxiously first at one parent, then the other.  Her brother just sat back in his chair, smirking, even though he too had no idea what was going on.

"I am sorry, honey, I thought you already knew," Trine's mother finally turned to her.  "We signed you up for your school's fund-raiser at the last parent-teacher meeting."

"You… you 'signed me up?'  And you didn't even ask me?  How could you do this to me!"  Tears welled up in the girl's hazel eyes.

Trine's school sometimes organized a fund-raising fair to compensate for a budget shortfall at the year-end.  It was common for the school administration to ask students and their parents, as well as community members, to help out either with their organising skills, or in the case of young women and girls – with their bodies.  Trine had been at one such event, and she even knew some girls who had volunteered, sometimes with their mothers.  But it had never occurred to her to volunteer herself.

"Mom?  Dad?  Do I really have to go?  Can't you just call them and cancel?" Trine pleaded.

"Now, now, don't be selfish, dear.  You should be proud to help your school out, after all it did for you!" chided her father.

"Christina and I were planning to go to the moll next Sunday…"

"Oh honey, I am sorry.  But it will be all right – you'll see."  Trine's mom hugged the sobbing girl with one arm and kissed her on the wet cheek.  "Tell you what: today you can order – order anything you want."

"Anything?" Trine brightened up a bit.

"Let's order that waitress chick!" piped in Brent.

"Shhh, let your sister decide," his mother stopped him.

"Actually," Trine hated to agree with her brother, but this really was what she wanted.  "Actually, can we order Joanne and have her spit-roasted?  Please?"

"Woo-hoo!" Brent couldn't contain himself.  Too bad about his sister, but at least he is going to get a great dinner out of this.

"Anything for you, my sweet," her father quickly agreed.  "And here she comes."

Joanne was indeed coming back to their table with a little notepad in hand.  "Something wrong?" she asked, noticing Trine's wet eyes.

"No, everything's OK," Trine replied hastily, and added with a smile: "Today is your lucky day, Joanne!"

"Really?  You are going to have me spit-roasted?"  Trine nodded.  "All right!"  Now Joanne was smiling too.

Mr. Malcolm firmly grasped the girl's arm and pulled her closer to his seat.  He squeezed and prodded her supple thighs and breasts, had her turn around and slapped her small, round butt, then put two fingers inside her smoothly shaved pussy, which was hot and moist inside.  The young waitress blushed and gasped, but did not pull away.  Finally, the man nodded his approval.

"Will there be anything else, Sir?" asked Joanne.

"No, this will be all," Mr. Malcolm replied.

"I'll go straight to the kitchen then," Joanne turned to leave.  "Enjoy your dinner!"

"Thanks, and good luck!  We'll see you later."  Trine touched Joanne's arm for the last time as the girl scampered towards the kitchen.

"Such a nice girl," repeated Mrs. Malcolm, giving her daughter a meaningful look.  This time, Trine just simpered back at her.

"Hey, I just talked to Trine!"  Christina burst into the living room where her parents were watching TV.  Her mother turned her head but her father remained glued to the screen.

"Tell me something I don't know," the woman smiled at her daughter.  Like any teenage girl, Christina spent hours on the phone with her girlfriends.  "So, how is Trine?  You two must have been planning your shopping spree next weekend, weren't you?"

"No, mom…" Christina seemed excited and a bit out of breath.  "I mean, we were planning to go to the mall, but Trine just told me that her parents, er, 'volunteered' her for our school fundraiser!"

"That's also next weekend, right?  I guess your trip is off then."  Her mom didn't seem to be as surprised as Christina thought she would be, and her dad still said nothing.

"It's next Saturday.  And Trine's going to be in it – you know, naked an' all!  Isn't it crazy?"

"Well, good for her – it's a good thing that she is doing.  You could volunteer too, you know," her mother added matter-of-factly.

"Me?  You're kidding, right?"  Christina was shocked.

"Why, not at all.  You would support your best friend – and your school."

"But mom…!"

"Your mother is right," Mr. Jessup finally tore himself away from the TV as commercials started.  "You should definitely sign up for the fundraiser – it's the right thing to do," he added rather firmly.

Christina didn't like the turn the conversation took; she was now sorry that she brought up the subject in the first place.

"How about you, honey?"  Mr. Jessup turned to his wife.  "Are you going to volunteer too?"

"Who – me?"  It was now Mrs. Jessup's turn to be surprised, but she recovered quickly.  "Well, I guess I could…"

"Excellent," summed up Mr. Jessup.  He seemed to be in a great mood all of a sudden.  "Sweetheart, why don't you sign up your mother and yourself tomorrow when you go to school?"

Christina thought to object, but realized that now that her mother was in, there was no way she could wiggle out of volunteering for the fundraiser.  In a way, she felt vindicated to have mom share her predicament, but also grateful for her company.

"OK, dad," she finally replied, without much enthusiasm.  A few minutes later she was once again on the phone with Trine.

Next Saturday morning, the Malcolms pulled into the parking garage behind the downtown Dolcett Center, which the city leased to Trine's school for its fundraising fair.  Despite the relatively early hour, the two lower levels of the garage were already filled up: events like this were always popular.  Finally, Mr. Malcolm found a spot on the third level, and the family clambered out of the car.  Trine was wearing shorts, t-shirt, flip-flops, and plain panties underneath: there was no point in dressing up since she would have to loose all her clothes inside, anyway.  On their way down they ran into the Jessups.  Christina and her mom were wearing only long t-shirts, which barely covered their plump bottoms.

"Hi Christina!"  The girls hugged, and the rest of the group exchanged greetings.

"Ready for your big day, girls?" asked Trine's dad, addressing the half-naked women.

"As ready as I am ever going to be, I guess…" replied Christina noncommittally.

"Cheer up, Pumpkin – it's going to be fun!"  Mr. Jessup lightly slapped his daughter's bare behind, which exposed while she was climbing down the stairs, eliciting an outraged yelp from the girl and a hearty laughter from her father.

The group was now approaching the entrance to the center, where other people were also converging – among them many scantily clad and even nude girls and women.  Trine and Christina knew that not all of those girls were there as "volunteers", like they themselves were.  Last time when the two friends were attending their school's fundraiser, they were also wearing very little: Christina had a bikini on that barely even covered her nipples and sex, while Trine had to go topless, exposing her young breasts before crowds of strangers for the first time in her life, because the attendants at the entrance found the little bra that she was wearing not revealing enough.  The reason the girls had to dress so scantily that time was so that they could attend the fair for free, as "guests": otherwise they would've had to pay a hefty admission fee, which their modest allowances couldn't bear.  However, what they saw inside on that day was "totally worth" the embarrassment of walking around almost naked, as both girls later agreed.  What they didn't dare tell each other was that in the weeks following their visit they both spent many hours stroking themselves in their beds while recalling all that they had seen.

In the lobby a large sign read "Registered Volunteers," and in a smaller print, "walk-ins welcome."   The sign pointed to the right, where several desks were set up.   Quite a few girls and women were already queued up in front of the desks, some accompanied by their family or friends.  Trine's and Christina's families joined one of the lines.  As they waited their turn, an excited chatter could be heard all around them.

"Say, honey, I have an idea," Mr. Malcolm embraced his wife from behind and nuzzled her neck.  "How would you like to volunteer as well?"

"Oh, I am too old for that," she tried to brush him off, laughing.

"Nonsense, dear, you are in your prime."

"You are only two years older than me," Christina's mom added, "And you look gorgeous" – which was true enough.

"Well, I guess it's for a good cause…" Mrs. Malcolm said uncertainly.

"Go for it, mom!" weighed in Brent.

"All right, I am in!" she said with a shy smile after a moment's hesitation.

"Yey!" Trine threw her arms around her mother's neck and kissed her.

Just then it was their turn, and the families found themselves in front of a desk where they were greeted by a young woman wearing only a metal tag hanging from a ring in one of her nipples.  She entered the names of the three registered women into her computer, then added Mrs. Malcolm's as well.  She then handed all four of them metal tags with numbers on them, just like the one she was wearing, and told to hold on to them.  To the men she issued discount passes, to which they were entitled as volunteers' family.

"So, what is our assignment?  Can we all stay together?"  From the last time she was here, Trine knew that volunteers were supposed to be assigned to specific attractions by the fair organizers.

"You didn't attend the orientation, did you?" the woman sighed.  It wasn't the first time she was asked that question.

"Um, no, we thought the rules were the same as last time," Trine said sheepishly.

"Well, this time you don't have an assignment, but your number may be called at any time and you will be asked to report to a particular place.  That is, unless you find something for yourself first.  You have a choice.  In fact, since we have so many volunteers this time, your number may not be selected at all."

"Really?" perked up Trine.  "So, we may be able to walk away free?"

"There is a chance of that, yes.  But be aware that towards the end, most of the remaining volunteers will be ground up to make hamburgers for the homeless – that was the city's condition.  So you actually have three options: you may volunteer yourself, you may wait for your number to be called up, or if none of that happens, you may take your chances with the grinder."

"I see…" Trine became pensive.

The women were then ushered past the row of tables and through a door leading to the changing room.  Before they parted ways with the guys, they agreed to all meet inside.

The changing room was filled with excited female chatter, occasionally pierced by a high-pitched shriek coming from somewhere ahead.  Girls and women who came before them were already stripping and putting their clothes into large storage bins.  Christina and her mom simply pulled off their t-shirts, which left them naked as the day they were born.  The two looked good together.  They were both full-bodied without being fat; Christina looked like a younger, slightly more petite copy of her mom.  Her breasts, topped with large brown nipples, were nearly as large, but they had barely begun to sag.  Her mother boasted fuller thighs and a waist that was almost as trim as her daughter's.  They both had chestnut hair, milky-white skin, and small hands and feet.

Trine and her mother had a few more items to take off, but they were not far behind.  Soon they joined Christina and her mother in a line leading to a row of what looked like gynecologist's chairs.  Trine was a slender, long-legged girl, a little taller than her friend; her pear-shaped breasts were a little smaller too, though they looked large on her frame.  She had auburn hair, and her skin was a light-golden colour everywhere except for two strips of ivory left by her small bikini.  Her mother was also slim and tall, but with slightly fuller and wider hips; she had straw-blonde hair and a tan that left a bright patch of white on her shapely behind, but none on her orange-sized breasts.

"So, what do you think?" asked Trine, once she rejoined her friend.

"About what?" asked Christina.

"About our options, what else?"

"Oh, I don't know.  The grinder sounds unpleasant, and who knows what else we may be selected for.  I say we find ourselves something fun," Christina giggled.  Now that there was no turning back, her mood somehow improved.  More than that, finding herself surrounded by all these naked women who were about to share a similar fate proved to be rather arousing.

"Yeah, I think so too," Trine agreed.  "What about you, mom?"

"I haven't had time to think…  Maybe I'll have myself cooked in a nice restaurant, so that our men can have a good dinner?"

"That's a good idea – perhaps I'll do that as well," agreed Mrs. Jessup.

In the gynecologist's chairs women were shaved and pierced through their pussy lips, so that their tags could be attached.  Trine, Christina, and Christina's mom were already shaved – only Trine's mom had to lose a patch of dark-blond hair on her crotch.  It turned out that being pierced through the lips didn't hurt too much: the girls screamed more out of fright than from actual pain.  Later they even found that walking with the ring constantly rubbing their sensitive parts was quite a turn-on.

The four women left the changing room together and found their men already waiting on the other side.  The latter were vying with one another in complementing on how great the women looked, which caused the younger girls, unaccustomed to being seen naked, to blush and cover themselves.  Right away, the girls declared that they were going off by themselves, while the rest decided to look for a good place where they could have the older women cooked.  Brent would've rather tagged along with the girls, but since they were adamant in not letting him follow them, his mother finally persuaded the boy to stay with the older crowd.

Once their families left, Trine and Christina felt a little more at ease.  They looked around – the place was huge, the size of a large mall, and it was already filling with people.  Nude "volunteers" and almost nude "guests" were mingling with fully clothed visitors.  Up ahead they could sometimes hear cries and moans emanating from the various kitchens and pavilions, which made the girls shiver from trepidation mixed with excitement.  Every so often, the PA system would come to life, announcing the number and the name of a randomly chosen volunteer, followed by directions to places like "Northern Gallows" or "Kiki's Bistro".  Every time they heard the voice from a speaker, the girls' hearts fluttered.

"Let's get ourselves snuffed, shall we?" Trine sighed and put an arm around her friend's waist.

"Maybe we should have a look around first?"

"Sure, let's go."

Trine and Christina padded towards a small crowd ahead in the atrium.  Making their way to the front, they saw a large wooden cross lying in the middle, to which a shapely young woman was being tied.  Once she was securely pinned to the wood, a cable descending from somewhere just below the sunroof of the three-story building began to raise the cross.  The woman moaned as her weight shifted and she found herself impaled on a horn-shaped dildo attached to the cross.  Looking up, the girls saw three more such crucifixes suspended at various heights like living, writhing ornaments, where people on upper floors could easily see them.

"Erotic, isn't it?" Trine heard a familiar voice behind her back and felt a small, soft hand touch her shoulder.  Both friends turned around and saw a girl their age, naked and tagged just as they were.  She was petite, with small upturned breasts and a cute bubble-butt.

"Oh, Hi Anne!  I didn't know you volunteered too," Trine said with a mix of surprise and joy at seeing a familiar face.  Next to Anne she now noticed her older sister, Helen, who wore a bikini that mostly consisted of thin leather straps.  The girls exchanged greetings and hugs.

"I kind of made a deal with the devil," Anne responded to Trine's question with an embarrassed smile.  "I was failing Math, and… well, I promised the Principal that I would volunteer for the fundraiser if Mr. Neumann let me pass."

"Some deal you got, huh?  What about you, Helen?"

"Oh, I still own my soul, thank you very much!" Helen laughed.

"But we are working on that…"  That was Paul, Helen's boyfriend, who came up from behind and pawed the girl's mostly exposed breasts.

"In your dreams, buster!" Helen wiggled out of his clumsy embrace.

The five of them decided to continue their explorations together.  They went around the floor, peeking into kitchens where women were prepared and cooked in every conceivable fashion, as well as amusements where visitors paid to have volunteers tortured or executed.  In one pavilion they stopped for a few minutes to watch a game of darts, where the target was some unfortunate girl's beasts, tummy, and butt.  In the next pavilion they saw what looked like two barber's chairs standing next to the far wall.  When the young people came closer, they saw that the one empty chair had two shiny, chromed dildos protruding from its seat; the other chair was occupied by a nude girl Helen's age.  She was secured with leather cuffs and a strap that went across her chest, just above her breasts; two alligator clips were attached to her nipples, and a smaller one – to her protruding clit.  The clips were connected by wires to a metal box with a single token slot in it.  The poor girl was moaning and squirming, her little hands and feet clenching and unclenching as her body was tormented by electric current that coursed between her nipples, butt, and sex.  Suddenly, a long, high-pitched moan escaped her lips that could not be mistaken for anything other than an orgasm.  Paul prodded his girlfriend and whispered something into her ear, but Helen only giggled and shook her head.  The young people watched the girl in the chair have several more orgasms before the current stopped and an attendant released the exhausted volunteer into the arms of her waiting boyfriend. 

Meanwhile, Trine and Christina overheard a lively argument somewhere in the crowd that gathered around the electric chairs:

"No way!  I am not doing this."

"Chicken!"

"Am not!"

"Then I dare you – I double dare you!"

"I'll do it if you do it."

"Fine!"

Trine and Christina searched the crowd and were not surprised to find that the voices belonged to the Nelson twins.

"Hi Christina!  Hi Trine!  What are you doing here?"

"Hi!  Um, our parents made as volunteer.  What's your story?" Trine asked.

"Don't tell me," interrupted Christina, "You dared each other to volunteer!"

The girls looked at each other and burst out laughing.  The inseparable twins were known to do all sorts of crazy things together.  It was only a matter of time, Christina thought, before they ended up in this place.

As soon as both chairs were empty, the sisters came forward together and were promptly "seated".  The attendants had to push a little on their shoulders to force their tight openings onto the rather large metal dildos.  The girls gasped but smiled bravely, not wanting to lose face.  Once they were strapped in and the clamps were attached, the attendants called out for someone to start the show.  For that, a token had to be purchased in a nearby booth and inserted into the control box, which would instantly activate the current.  A poster on the wall above the chairs illustrated the way the current was programmed: The first token started a fairly mild flow of electricity that remained level for a few minutes.  The next token started another phase where the current had a saw-tooth shape, with peaks reaching a painful level.  Finally, the third token, if it was ever inserted, caused the current to climb steadily up until it reached a level where the victim would eventually be fried by electricity.

The twins watched wide-eyed as a man came forward and put a token into the slot.  Immediately, their young bodies tensed as the current started its flow.   Judging by the girls' reactions though, they were not yet in a great deal of pain.  Not long after their ordeal began, Laura's entire body convulsed; she threw back her head, and between gasps of pleasure counted off her first orgasm:

"One!"

"One!" followed Anne, as her own orgasm overtook her.

Both girls managed to come one more time before the first phase of their torment was over, but their immensely entertaining contest ensured that they would not be let off just yet.  Someone fed the machine another token, and the girls' ordeal continued into the second phase.  Now the twins were suffering in earnest: they panted and cried out each time the current spiked; rivulets of sweat were streaming down their lithe bodies.  Curiously though, the succession of orgasms continued seemingly unabated.  Just then a rowdy group of teenage boys tumbled into the room.  At first, the twins were too preoccupied to pay them any attention, but when one of the boys, cheered on by his friends, approached the control box with a token in hand, the girls finally realized what was about to happen.

"Oh… no… ugh… don't…!" they both tried to protest, but it was too late: with a clank of a token, their fates were sealed.  A minute later the boys, who apparently just then realized what they had done, watched with guilty fascination as the doomed girls' moaning and thrashing intensified, until having come one last time, their bodies gave up and slumped in their bonds.

"Well, that was something!" said Christina, who had been secretly stroking herself while everyone's attention was directed towards the twins.

"Poor Nelsons," offered Helen.  "I don't think they expected it to end this way."

"They would've been snuffed anyway," remarked Paul.

"And so shall we," added Anne with a sigh.

"Amen," concluded Trine with a little laugh.  "Let's go, girls… and boys."

The five youngsters now found themselves in a restaurant called simply "A Dinner and a Show."  A gallows right in the middle of the restaurant apparently served as the "show".  It was a simple affair: nothing more than a small clearing among the tables, a winch, and a thick rope with a hangman's noose at its end.  When the group entered, a restaurant employee was just taking down the previous "act" – a girl whom Helen recognized as her classmate.  As the body was dragged unceremoniously to the kitchen, the next performer was stood under the winch.  When she was turned around, Trine was surprised and a little shocked to realize that the nude and handcuffed woman was none other than her mother.  Mrs. Malcolm looked nervous, but seeing Trine and her friends she smiled at them and then nodded in the direction of a table where the male part of Trine's and Christina's families were seated.

"Hi Pumpkin!" Christina's dad greeted his daughter and patted her chubby behind.  "I see you haven't been snuffed yet?"  His fingers casually slipped into the girl's moist slit.

"Hi dad," Christina sighed and gently loosened herself from her father's probing hand.

"We are still 'shopping around,'" explained Trine for both of them.  By then she had grown used to walking around naked, but in the presence of her brother and father her hands once again dashed to cover her lovely breasts and smooth sex.

Meanwhile, the show got under way.  The winch under the ceiling came to life with a light hum, and the noose around Mrs. Malcolm's neck began to tighten.  She balanced on her toes for a moment before her feet left the ground for the last time.  Her body continued its upward journey until the feet were dangling chest-high, easily seen by everyone in the room.  The woman began her last dance, her shapely body twisting, legs stretching and kicking, breasts jiggling, as she put up a gamely fight for her rapidly escaping life.  Gradually, her movements began to slow down, at the same time becoming more deliberate: she would draw up her tightly clenched and intertwined legs, then kick them down, thrusting her sex forward, as if offering it to everyone in the room.  Trine was spellbound as she watched her mother go into the throws of her final orgasm and finally surrender and hang limply at the end of the rope, deaf to the applause and the hooting of the restaurant audience.  In the end, her reverie was interrupted by her brother:

"Go mom!" Brent enthused, then turning to Trine he asked hopefully, "How about it, sis?  Will you dance for us?"

"Pft, no way!" she barely vouchsafed a reply.

"Well Pumpkin, if you want to see your mother, you may want check out the kitchen," Mr. Jessup said, giving Christina's buttock a light squeeze.  "And perhaps you'll cook us a treat yourself, huh?"

"Nah-uh," giggled Christina, but headed towards the kitchen anyway, followed by Trine and their companions.  They hadn't reached the kitchen before they saw Christina's mother: she was being led, handcuffed, towards a long, narrow grill that separated the kitchen area from the main room of the restaurant.  The chef directed her to kneel in front of the grill and lay her oiled breasts right onto the bars.  Two more women were already stoically cooking their own large breasts on the same grill, their tears and low moans betraying their suffering.  One girl was squirming at the far end of the grill, her ass and pussy turning into juicy steaks.  Mrs. Jessup cringed and cried out as her ample white breasts spattered and hissed on the hot metal, but she managed a smile when she saw her daughter.

"Hi honey…"  She winced as the chef prodded and turned her breasts on the grill. "You kids must be hungry… ugh… Tell the guys to share some appetizers with you," she added, nodding towards her cooking flesh.  "The rest of the dinner… ah… won't be ready soon."

"Gee, thanks, mom!" Christina said looking down sympathetically at her mother's tormented breasts and thinking how it might feel if she herself was cooking on that grill.

Soon Mrs. Jessup was led out into the room, her lightly cooked breasts resting on a tray.  A nude waitress sliced the tender flesh onto a large plate and served it to the woman's husband and all the rest at his table.  Everyone, including Christina, dug hungrily into the meat and made sure to praise the exquisite taste.  The now breastless woman responded with a pained but satisfied smile before she was led back into the kitchen.

Once the appetizers were gone, Anne grew restless.  "I want to see more before it's all over," she said: it was her first time at the Dolcett Center.

"OK, let's go," agreed Christina.  "See you later, guys… maybe!" she winked to the men at the table.

Trine, Christina, and their companions continued their explorations on other floors.  They paused to watch one of the crucified women, who was suspended in the atrium so that her feet were level with the second floor – just a couple of tantalizingly impossible steps from the firm ground.  Her voluptuous body was drenched with sweat, raven hair matted on her face, eyes half-closed.  The woman was doing an erotic dance: she would lift herself up, trying to relieve the tension in her arms, then sink down when the cramps in her legs became too much to bear.  All the while, her sopping pussy was forced to fuck the horn on which it was impaled.

Moving on, the group came across a rather agitated crowd surrounding some new amusement.  When they came closer, they saw what at first glance looked like the mainstay of many fairs: a dunk tank.  A nude girl was perched on a small seat that projected over a large glass tank filled with water.  Next to the tank there was a small target, which when hit with a tennis ball would release the latch under the seat, plunging the victim into the warm water.  This being no ordinary fair though, the girl was wearing a heavy weight belt around her waist, and the tank had enough water to cover her completely once she was inside.  Such grim predicament was not inevitable though: even as the young people watched, three balls missed the target and the much-relieved girl was let down, where she was reunited with her boyfriend who happened to be the inapt shooter.  They watched yet another girl sit in trembling anticipation through three unsuccessful attempts to drown her.  Each time the ball missed, the crowd sighed disappointedly.

Presently, the organizer was asking for the next volunteer, but none came forward.  Suddenly, as if on an impulse, Helen smiled impishly at her boyfriend and skipped to the front.  Paul was momentarily astounded, but as he watched his girlfriend negotiate with the man in charge of the dunk tank he stirred into action, bought three balls in the nearby booth, and took his position behind the line painted on the floor across from the target.  By that time, Helen had already unfastened her tiny leather bra, releasing her proud breasts to whistles and cheers from the crowd.  She untied the spaghetti-straps of her panties, kicked off her little shoes, and finally stood before the tank completely nude, playfully blowing off kisses to the crowd.  An attendant helped her up the ladder and onto the seat above the tank, then fastened the weight belt around the girl's narrow waist.  Helen sat on the small wooden seat, smiling nervously in anticipation of the first shot, her hands on her knees, legs tightly clenched, ankles crossed.  As the ball arced through the air, she shrieked and squeezed her eyes shut; a moment later, she opened her eyes and found that she was still perched on her seat.

Paul found that hitting the small target was not as easy as it first seemed.  His second ball came just a couple of fingers off target, provoking a few boos from the crowd and a sigh of relief from his frightened girlfriend.  Finally, with an angry determination he launched his last ball.  Helen's eyes flew wide open as suddenly she heard a loud clank of the spring mechanism and felt cool air brush against her hot, damp crotch.  Her support gone, the girl plunged into the water-filled tank, splashing Paul and a few people in the front.  The crowd erupted in cheers and applause; some people slapped the stunned young man on the back.  Meanwhile, amid a whirlwind of bubbles Helen's body reached the bottom of the tank.  Immediately, she got onto her feet and tried to reach for the surface, but the heavy belt around her waist weighted her down.  The girl panicked, her small hands impotently slapping and scratching at the glass wall, but after a few seconds of futile struggles she realized that she wasn't going anywhere.  Her big blue eyes focused beyond the walls of the tank and met with those of her boyfriend, who had come closer and was watching the drowning girl with a mix of dread and erotic thrill.  Helen's clenched lips widened in a half-smile, a few small bubbles escaping from the corners; her long golden hair was flowing like a halo around her head.  Then, gliding upwards along her smooth body, her left hand found a stiff nipple, while her right hand slipped down between her legs.  Paul watched as the girl's slim fingers raced against time, her eyes never leaving his, even as she struggled to hold her last breath inside her convulsing chest.  Finally, a look of ecstasy flashed across Helen's face, her legs buckled, her back arched, and at the same time a rush of bubbles erupted from her mouth.  Her limbs flailed spastically for a few moments – and then it was over, and her body came to a rest at the bottom of the tank.

Paul and the girls were still processing the experience when an announcement was sounded on the PA, and Anne did a double take when she recognized her name.

"Oh my God!  I think that's me…"

The announcement was repeated – and this time there was no doubt: Anne's number was selected for some place called "Yen's Noodle Shop".

"Well, I guess I have to be going," Anne said unsurely.

"Do you mind if we come along?" asked Trine.

"Please do!" Anne eagerly agreed, relieved that she would not be alone.

The three girls went looking for the restaurant; they had to ask for directions twice before they finally located the place on the third floor, behind a leather shop.  It was a modest-looking Chinese restaurant, but the friends didn't have time to look around: they were running late, so they went straight to the kitchen, with Anne padding fearfully in front and Christina and Trine flowing right behind.  A cranky Chinese chef was already waiting impatiently for his order.

"What took you so long, girl?  Come, quickly!" he was pushing Anne towards a shower stall, while someone clipped off the tag from her pussy.

Emerging pink and fresh from the shower, the disoriented girl was pulled and shoved until she found herself in front of a giant pot, which was sunk at the floor level, so that one could easily climb inside.  Two young girls were already sitting in the pot, their red nipples just poking above the steaming broth.

"Get in, quickly!" the chef's wrinkled brown hands were pushing on Anne's small round butt.

"J…just get in?  Now?" the girl hesitated, looking around plaintively.

"Yes, now!  What are you waiting for?  You should've been sitting here for ten minutes already."

With a sigh, Anne sat down on the floor and gingerly swung her legs over the edge of the pot, her dainty feet dangling just above the surface.  She looked one more time at Trine and Christina, who were standing back, waving and smiling at her encouragingly, then squeezed her eyes and slipped into the broth.  She shrieked as the hot liquid shocked her skin, and instinctively tried to get back up, but felt someone's hands pushing firmly on her shoulders.

"Sit!  Sit and cook," the chef was barking into her ear.

Anne squealed and wriggled uncomfortably at first, but in a little while she began to get used to the heat.  Her bent legs were tangled with those of the two other girls sharing the pot.  They were trying to comfort her, stroking her body with their soft hands.  One of the girls bent over and kissed Anne; the other playfully inserted a toe into her pussy and wiggled it there.  Anne gasped and smiled a little.

"There's room for one more, girls!" the chef looked over at Trine and Christina, who were standing a little behind and watching Anne.

The girls looked at each other.  "Uh, no, thanks," Trine smiled politely and backed out of the kitchen together with her friend.

"What now?" Trine asked when they were outside.

"I think we should find something soon, or else we'll be selected – who knows for what!" suggested Christina.

"I guess you are right.  But let's try to stay together," Trine added and took her friend's hand.

"Hey girls!" they heard Mr. Malcolm's voice behind their backs.  Brent and Mr. Jessup were with him, as well as two unfamiliar young women.  "This is Mel, and this is Jessica," he introduced them to the girls.

"Hi!" said Trine and Christina.  The women smiled.

"So, what have you been up to, kids?" asked Trine's father.

"Um, we think we are ready to be snuffed now," Trine said uncertainly.

"Well, we are just about ready for seconds!" chimed in Mr. Jessup.

"You guys!" laughed Christina, "How much meat can you eat in one day?"

"Never enough, especially when there are such tasty morsels here!"  He pinched Christina's nipple, and everyone laughed.

"Well, we are open to suggestions.  Do you have anything in mind?" asked Christina.

"There is a nice Middle-Eastern restaurant around here," suggested Jessica.

"Sounds good, baby," agreed Mr. Jessup.  "Lead the way."

Trine wasn't sure she wanted to be cooked, but she went along with Christina.  The restaurant was just around the corner, and they all went inside.  It was a large, busy place with an open kitchen.  A waiter showed the newcomers a table, then escorted Trine and Christina to the kitchen.  There a mustachioed chef brusquely looked them over, and apparently satisfied, handed them over to an assistant.  The girls were directed to wash up and then sit on a bench where a petite dark-skinned girl was already waiting.

"Excuse me…" started Trine, addressing the cook.

"You just wait your turn," the man brushed her off and busied himself with preparations.

"I am not sure this was a good idea," Trine whispered to Christina anxiously.

"Don't worry, it'll be OK," Christina tried to reassure her, but she did not sound very confident.

"Hi!  I am Lenita," the girl next to them introduced herself.  The friends barely had time to respond when a burly cook scooped up their new acquaintance from the bench and carried her to a preparation table.  The man laid the slender girl on her back and without further ado, swung a meat cleaver over her neck.  Lenita's black eyes opened wide, but before she could even cry out her head was gone, severed in one stroke.  Immediately, the cook began to part her carcass.

"Well, at least it's quick," sighed Trine.  Christina nodded and swallowed hard.

They didn't have to wait long, as the chef soon returned for them.

"Follow me," he ordered and led them to a bath tub filled with olive oil.  "Get yourself well oiled and wait here," he said and quickly turned back, leaving the girls alone.

Trine and Christina looked at each other and shrugged, then climbed into the tub.  The oil felt good on their skin, and the girls had much fun spreading it over each other's bodies, particularly their private parts.  But as all good things come to an end, their good time was interrupted by the return of the chef with a couple of assistants.  They first took Christina and led her away in the direction the main room.  Trine kissed her friend good-bye and lay back in the tub awaiting her turn.

Christina, who was having difficulty balancing on her oily feet, was leaning heavily on the men's arms.  Suddenly she froze when she saw a slender, sharp-tipped steel pole almost as high as her chest, planted in the floor in front of her.  Unfazed, the men pulled the girl along, stood her next to the pole, and bound her arms behind her back with a string.  Someone brought a stepladder, and Christina had to climb up on it, with the men supporting her shaky form.  Once she reached the top, she found the sharp point of the pole just below her crotch.  With the two assistants holding her unsteady legs, the chef directed the girl to lower herself onto the tip, as he guided her by her hips.  Christina cooperated hesitantly, and soon felt the cool metal tip entering her ass.  The chef kept pulling down on her hips: "Just sit on it," he told her.  "Easy for you to say," thought Christina, but complied as best as she could.  She was grateful for the oil, which made the entrance smoother.  It hurt a little as the pole stretched her virgin opening, but it also felt strangely satisfying to be filled this way.

Christina momentarily panicked when suddenly she felt the stepladder moving out from under her feet. Nothing was supporting her except for the pole that was now entering deeper into her body.  The girl's legs instinctively wrapped around the slender pole, but that did not stop her downward progress.  Eventually, her toes could reach the metal base, but the men pushed down on her shoulders until she was standing flat.  Christina was astonished to find herself half-impaled on a sharp stake and still very much alive.  The foreign object lodged inside her tummy hurt, but not as much as she would have expected.  She was left alone for a few moments, and for the first time she focused on her surroundings.  The pole was set up right by the counter that separated the kitchen from the main room, so that people inside the restaurant could see her.  In fact, her dad and his companions were watching her from a nearby table all the time that she was being impaled.  When their eyes met, he waved at her, and Christina managed an embarrassed smile in return.  Pinned like a butterfly in a museum exhibit, and with her arms bound, she could do nothing to hide her nudity.

Someone brought a penis-shaped steel rod and attached it to the pole below; the dildo slid easily into Christina's wet pussy.  Then a tall heating element was rolled into position behind her, and Christina finally realized what she was going to be: a living shawarma.  Once the element started heating up, the base on which the girl was standing began to rotate slowly together with the pole.  The heat soon became uncomfortable, causing her to wriggle and moan softly.  It was then that, to her pleasant surprise, Christina discovered that she could gently and almost imperceptibly fuck herself both in the ass and in the pussy, simply by sliding a little up and down the pole.

Leaving Christina to squirm in the rotisserie, the chef and his assistants returned to Trine.  Snatching her from her oil bath, they took her to a preparation table.  Trine half-hoped and half-feared that she would be butchered quickly, like the dark-skinned girl was before her.  She was laid on her tummy, with her breasts on the table, her feet on the floor, and her pretty butt sticking up in the air.  For a little while she was left alone, but the girl was afraid to look around her to find out what was happening.  Suddenly, strong hands gripped her hips and man's fingers spread her pussy lips, and then she felt something cold and smooth entering her.  In her fear, Trine didn't even realize just how aroused she had been.  Her pussy hungrily swallowed the intruder, and as if answering her unspoken need, the object started sliding in and out of her moist opening.  That didn't last long however, and soon Trine felt as the steel completely filled her luxuriating pussy and then moved inexorably further into her body, piercing her through.  The girl squeezed her eyes and gripped the table with her hands as the pole progressed through her body, entering her chest and then her throat.  Someone grabbed her by the hair, lifting her head just as the tip entered her mouth and then emerged on the other side.  Trine watched with amazement as the very object that was giving her pleasure just a minute ago was now sliding out of her wide-open mouth.

In a daze, Trine felt her arms being tied behind her back, and her legs affixed to the pole that was running through her.  A stabilizer was attached to the pole and inserted deep into her ass.  Finally, the pole was lifted up, and Trine was carried into the main room.  She passed very close to where Christina was slowly roasting, and the girls just had time to exchange glances before Christina was turned away and Trine was carried further towards a nearby barbecue pit.  Trine felt the heat getting more intense as her pole was installed above the fiery pit.  In a moment, the room around her started spinning, while the heat began shifting around her body, roasting this side and that, while the rest of her body got a little relief.

Meanwhile, Christina's world was spinning in a different direction.  The heating element, which came just short of her neck, concentrated all its heat on her voluptuous young body.  Panting and moaning, she was surreptitiously riding her twin intruders to a second orgasm, even as she could feel and smell herself slowly roasting up, starting with her large breasts and her plump butt.  Soon after Trine was brought in, a cook came up to Christina, and as she was spinning on her pole he began deftly slicing off her cooked flesh with a long, sharp knife.  A minute later, the meat was served to Mr. Jessup's table, and the man made sure that his daughter saw how he popped her roasted nipple into his mouth and cheered her with a raised wine glass.  Christina smiled weakly.

Trine could see all that from her constantly shifting vantage point.  Her half-closed eyes met now with Christina's, now with her brother's and father's.  As she squirmed from the heat, she too discovered the pleasures of pole-riding.  Pushing and wriggling as much as her position allowed, she caused her entire body to slide back and forth along the shaft that went through her pussy and the guide that impaled her butt.  As the heat was getting to her, the girl's movements began to slow down, but she did manage to reach a powerful orgasm before finally fading away.