[School Fundraising Dinner] (Author)

School Fundraiser - Author: Gu Su Zhu Er
Translator
: Gu Su Zhu Er
Author's Statement: This work is inspired by Dolcett's comics, and more directly by Splyf's works
(such as "Visit the Restaurant," "Death Palace," and "Western Paradise"). This work uses Splyf
's character settings and has obtained his permission to publish it here. Translator's Statement: Using the settings of great authors
to write my own stories is something I've always wanted to do, but I've dug several plot holes that I haven't been able to finish, so I'll just translate a few for everyone
to see first.
"Welcome to Miller's Grill Bar! Four people?" a naked waitress opened the door for the Malcolm family and asked. She looked very young, but Brant immediately noticed 　　a pair of full breasts
on her slender body . 　　“Jonnie?” Trina asked, the last to enter. “I thought you were helping out in the kitchen.” 　　She and Joni were classmates, and as far as she knew, the restaurant belonged to Joanna’s father, so Joanna 　　often came here in the evenings and on weekends to wash dishes or do odd jobs to earn pocket money. 　　“Oh…hi, Trina.” Joanna looked a little embarrassed. “This way, please.” She said, leading the Malcolm 　　family to a few empty tables at the other end of the restaurant. 　　“Well, things are quite funny today.” Joanna turned back to Trina and said, “ 　　There was a big party here earlier today—they ordered three of our waitresses, but even so, 　　there wasn’t enough meat in the kitchen for all the customers today…” She pointed to the crowded room and said, 　　“So Dad decided to put Mom and me on the table. Can you believe it?” What Trina couldn’t be sure about was whether 　　Joanna was more angry or happy as she said this. 　　“Oh, does that mean you’re about to be…that?” 　　“Cooking? I’m afraid that’s what happened. Mom is already cooked…or rather, part of her is already 　　cooked.” It's only a matter of time before it's my turn—this place will be open for at least another 5 hours. 　　“Oh…” Trina didn’t know what to say. 　　The restaurant’s throng of people made it difficult to walk through the hall—not to mention 　　the huge iron tank and several wooden frames suspended from the ceiling in the middle of the hall by chains. Some naked waitresses were 　　moving between the tables, several of them already missing a breast or arm. As they 　　passed the tank, they saw two giggling girls splashing water at each other inside 　　—although there was a fire burning underneath, Trina, who had been to the restaurant before, knew it was just a safety gimmick: 　　the water would be heated to steaming, but never to boiling; these girls were just 　　daughters of the restaurant’s sponsors, doing this simply for fun. 　　Next to the tank were two brick-built coal-fired grills—the real deal—in fact, inside one 　　was a young woman skewered on a grill, roasted to a delicious golden brown, the aroma filling the entire 　　room and making everyone’s mouths water. “That’s Trish,” Joanna said, pointing to the roasting meat. 　　“She’s been with us for almost a week.” “Do you know how you’re going to be cooked?” 　　Trina asked as soon as they sat down. 　　“I don’t know yet—it depends on the first customer who orders me. I’d rather be 　　skewered and grilled.” Joanna chuckled suddenly, glancing back at Trish. “I mean, if I’m 　　going to be cooked anyway.” 　　“That’s not an easy way to do it!” Trina’s brother, Brant, interjected. “A rod down your ass 　　…” 　　“Brant!” his mother interrupted. 　　“I know, but it’s sexy!” Joanna winked—not at 　　Brant, but at her father. “Are you going to order now or decide later?” 　　“Give us a few minutes,” Mr. Malcolm replied with a smile, picking up the menu. 　　“Sorry, we can’t order you.” “Trina whispered apologetically to Joanna. Their family 　　often ate at the Miller family's restaurant on Saturday nights, but except for holidays, they usually only ordered cut meat— 　　it was beyond their means compared to a living girl. 　　“It's alright, I understand. But if you want, you can still choose some of my mother 　　's meat—she's already been cut up. Dad chopped off her head himself! Anyway, 　　call me when you've decided.” As she walked away, Bran stared longingly at her smooth, slightly trembling buttocks 　　. 　　“Is she your friend at school?” Mrs. Malcolm asked. “What a good girl! I hope 　　you'll behave as well as her next Saturday.” 　　“Um, what do you mean?” Trina asked her mother in alarm. 　　“Oh, hasn't your father told you yet?” Her mother glared at her husband. 　　“I thought you had already told her, so I…” 　　“Haven't told me what? What are you talking about?” Trina suddenly had a bad feeling. Her 　　eyes darted back and forth between her parents; her brother leaned back in his chair, chuckling—though he 　　didn't know what was going on either. 　　"I'm so sorry, honey. I thought you already knew…" Trina's mother finally turned to her and 　　said, "We signed you up for your school's fundraising dinner at the last parent-teacher conference." 　　"You…you signed me up? Without even asking me? How could you do this to me!" Tears 　　welled up in her light brown eyes. 　　Trina's school sometimes organized these kinds of events at the end of the year to offset the financial deficit. Usually, the school administration 　　asked students and parents to help the school with their organizational skills or their physical presence (when they were young women and girls) 　　—of course, help from outsiders was also welcome. Trina had been to one of these dinners, 　　and she knew some girls volunteered—sometimes with their mothers, but she never…

She hadn't considered going herself.
"Dad? Mom? Do I have to go? Can't we cancel?" Trina pleaded.
"Come on, don't be so selfish. After all you've done for your school, you should be proud to
help it through this," her father scolded. "Christina and I were planning to go shopping next Sunday
..."
"Oh, dear. I'm sorry, but that's no problem—you'll see why." Trina
's mother hugged the sobbing girl, kissing her tear-stained cheeks. "Here's what we
'll do: you can order today—anything you want."
"Anything?" Trina's mood improved slightly.
"Then let's order that waitress," Brant muttered. "
Shh, let your sister decide," Mrs. Malcolm interrupted him.
"Actually..." Trina hated agreeing with her brother, but this time he said what she wanted to say.
"Can we order Joanna for skewered barbecue? Please."
"Oh ho!" Brant couldn't help but cheer. Although he felt bad about what his sister was going to suffer
, at least he would get a good meal.
“If you say it’s okay, then it’s okay, sweetheart.” Her father agreed. “She’s here right now.”
Joanna came over with a small notebook. “Is there a problem?” She noticed Trina’s red eyes
and asked anxiously.
“No, nothing, everything is fine.” Trina answered hastily, forcing a smile. “You’re
lucky today!”
“Really? You’re going to skewer and grill me?” Seeing Trina’s affirmative nod, Joanna smiled too
. “Great!”
Mr. Malcolm grabbed the girl’s arm and dragged her to his seat. He kneaded
her soft but firm breasts for a while, then turned her around, patted her small, round buttocks, and inserted two fingers
into her cleanly shaved vulva, feeling the wetness and heat inside. The young waitress
’s face flushed red, and she gasped for breath, but she didn’t back down. Finally, the man nodded to indicate his
approval of the food’s quality.
“Do you have any other requests?” Joanna asked.
“That’s all, that’s fine,” Mr. Malcolm replied.
“Then I’ll head straight to the kitchen,” Joanna said, turning to leave. “Enjoy your meal!”
“Thank you, and good luck! See you later.” Before Joanna skipped happily toward the kitchen, Trina
gave her arm one last pat.
“What a good girl!” Mrs. Malcolm said, giving her daughter a meaningful look. This
time, Trina responded with a smile.
“Hi, I just got off the phone with Trina,” Christina burst into the living room,
calling to her parents who were watching TV. Her mother turned to look at her, but her father continued watching TV, unmoved.
“Tell me some news,” her mother said, smiling at her daughter—like most teenage girls,
Christina enjoyed long phone conversations with her girlfriends. “So, what’s up with Trina? You two must be
planning a crazy shopping spree next weekend, right?”
“No, Mom…” Christina was excitedly a little exasperated. “I mean, we did
plan to go to the mall, but Trina told me her parents ‘donated’ her to our school’s fundraising dinner
.”
“That event is next weekend, isn’t it? I guess your plans are off.” Her mother
looked as surprised as Christina had expected, but her father remained silent.
“That’s next Saturday, and Trina will—you know, participate completely naked! That’s insane!”
“Well, she’s doing a good job—it’s a noble thing to do. You could volunteer too, you know.”
Her mother stated matter-of-factly.
“Me? You’re joking, aren’t you?” Christina was stunned.
“Why do you say that? I’m serious. You can support your best friend and your school at the same time.”
“But…”
“Your mother is right,” Mr. Jessper finally looked up from the television and
said firmly, “You ‘must’ sign up for this event—it’s your responsibility and obligation.”
Christina hadn’t expected things to turn out this way, and she regretted bringing it up.
“What do you say, dear?” Mr. Jessper asked his wife. “Are you going too?”
“Who…me?” Mrs. Jessper was stunned for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “Well,
I think I can…”
“Great!” Mr. Jessper concluded. His mood seemed to improve instantly. “Sweetheart,
when you go to school tomorrow, just sign up for yourself and your mother.” Christina considered it
for a moment, realizing that now that her mother was involved,
the possibility of her getting away with “volunteering” at the fundraising dinner was almost nonexistent. Moreover, in a way, she felt that having her mother with her and sharing this
experience would be a love-hate relationship.
“Okay, Dad,” she finally agreed, but not with much enthusiasm. A few minutes later, she
called Trina again.
The following Saturday morning, Mr. Malcolm drove into
the parking lot behind the Showy Centre, which the city government had provided for Trina’s school to hold the dinner. Although it was still early, the lower two levels of the garage were already full—such
events were always so popular. Finally, Mr. Malcolm found a spot on the third floor, and the whole
family could finally get out of the car. Trina was dressed in a very casual outfit: a t-shirt, slippers, and shorts—
she'd have to take everything off inside anyway, so there was no point in wearing more now. On their way downstairs, they ran into the Jesspers
. Christina, like her mother, was naked, wearing a long t-shirt that barely covered her ample hips
.
"Hi, Christina!" the girls hugged, and the others exchanged greetings.
"Girls, are you ready for your big day?" Trina's father asked the half-naked ladies.
“Cheer up, silly girls—this is going to be fun!” Mr. Jessper patted his daughter’s
exposed back as she came downstairs, eliciting a shriek from her—which made him laugh.
They were now approaching the center, where a large crowd had gathered—many of them scantily clad or even
naked women. Trina and Christina knew that not all of these girls were “volunteers” like them. The last
time they attended the fundraising dinner, they hadn’t worn much either: Christina wore
a bikini that barely covered her private parts and nipples, while Trina was completely naked—the people at the entrance thought her bra
wasn’t revealing enough (this was the first time she’d ever exposed her breasts to strangers). The girls dressed so
revealingly so they could attend for free as “guests”; otherwise, they would have to pay exorbitant entrance fees
—far beyond their meager allowances. However, they both later agreed that
what they saw inside was worth their almost nakedness . The embarrassment of seeing their bodies walking around inside. What they
didn't dare tell each other was that for weeks afterward, whenever they recalled what they had witnessed that day, they couldn't help
but spend hours masturbating in bed.
A sign in large letters on the porch read "Register as a Volunteer," with a smaller line below saying "Please Enter." Next to it was
an arrow pointing to several tables and chairs on the right. Many women were already lined up at the tables, some
accompanied by family or friends. Trina and Christina's group also joined the line. As they waited
for their turn, a burst of excited chatter arose around them.
“Hmm, darling. I have an idea.” Mr. Malcolm hugged his wife from behind,
nuzzling her neck with his nose. “Why don’t you volunteer?”
“Oh, I’m a bit too old.” She laughed, trying to brush him away.
“Don’t talk nonsense, darling. You’re in your prime.”
“You’re only two years older than me,” Christina’s mother chimed in, “and you look much prettier.”
—That wasn’t an exaggeration. “Well, I think it’s a good opportunity…” Mrs. Malcolm
said hesitantly.
“Mama, go for it!” Brant laughed.
“Alright, I’ll join too.” She hesitated for a moment, then smiled and agreed.
“Yay!” Trina jumped up, hugged her mother’s neck, and kissed her.
Just then it was their turn. A young woman behind the table, wearing a metal tag attached to a nipple ring,
greeted them. She entered the names of three already registered women into the computer, then added Mrs.
Malcolm’s name, and handed the four women four metal tags identical to the one she was wearing,
telling them to wear them; for the men, she offered discounted admission as family members of volunteers.
“So, how will we be handled? Can we stay together?” Based on her previous experience,
Trina knew the volunteers would be assigned to cater to different guests’ preferences.
“You didn’t attend the preparatory meeting, did you?” the woman sighed—it seemed this wasn’t the first time she’d answered
this question.
“Uh…no. We thought the rules would be the same as before,” Trina said timidly.
“Okay, you won’t be assigned this time, but your numbers might be called at any time, and
you’ll be required to report to a designated location; if you find a solution you prefer, you can
report yourself—at least you have a choice, right? And we have so many volunteers this time, maybe
your number won’t even be called.”
“Really?” Trina’s eyes lit up. “So that means we might be able to leave alive?”
“Theoretically, it’s possible. However, after the dinner, many of the remaining volunteers will be ground up and
made into hamburgers to be distributed to the homeless—that’s a requirement of the city government. So, in reality, you have three choices
: find a solution yourself, wait for your number to be called, or risk going into the meat grinder and gamble on
your luck.”
“I understand…” Trina frowned again.
Then the woman led them to a door leading to a changing room.
They had agreed to meet inside before parting ways with their families.
The changing room was filled with the chatter of women, and occasionally, loud
screams could be heard from somewhere in front. The girls and women in front had stripped naked and placed their clothes in a large basket. Christina
and her mother had only taken off their t-shirts, and were as naked as babies. Their
bodies looked perfect: they had no excess fat; Christina looked younger,
almost a slightly smaller clone of her mother. Her breasts, with their large brown nipples, were almost
as large as her mother's, but they hardly sagged; her mother's proud thighs and waist were almost as
slender as her daughter's. They both had chestnut hair, fair skin, and delicate, small
hands and feet.
Trina and her mother put on more clothes, but it didn't take them long. They quickly
… Following Christina and her mother, she joined the line leading to a row of gynecological examination chairs. Trina was a
slender, long-legged girl, a bit taller than her friend; her pear-shaped breasts were small, but unusually firm,
and her thin frame made them appear larger than they actually were. Her hair was burgundy, and her skin
was now bronze, though the tan lines from her bikini revealed her original ivory complexion.
Her mother was also tall, but with fuller hips, blond hair, brown skin, and white
tan lines (though her orange-colored breasts were untanned).
“So, what are you planning to do?” Trina asked.
“About what?” Christina countered.
“What else could it be but our choice?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The meat grinder is too horrible, and nobody else knows what will happen to us. I think
we should decide for ourselves, at least we can have some fun,” Christina chuckled. With this final
realization, her mood inexplicably improved. And being among a large group of people who would share the same fate…
The sight of the naked women stirred something within her.
“Ah, I thought so too,” Trina agreed. “What do you say, Mom?”
“I haven’t thought about it much…maybe I could choose to be cooked in a fancy restaurant, so
the men in our family can have a good meal?” “Good idea—maybe I’ll do the same,” Mrs. Jessup
nodded.
After they sat in the gynecological chairs, the women had their pubic hair shaved and their labia pierced to attach
their tags. Trina, Christina, and Christina’s mother had already had their pubic hair shaved—only
Trina’s mother needed her dark yellow pubic hair shaved off. They were surprised to find that piercing their labia wasn’t
as painful as they had imagined: the girls’ screams were mostly due to psychological fear rather than physical
pain. They also found that wearing a metal ring that constantly rubbed their sensitive areas was very
arousing.
When the four of them walked out of the changing room, they found their families waiting at the other end. They
flattered each woman, telling them how beautiful they looked, making the girls, unaccustomed to nudity,
blush and cover their private parts. Soon, the girls loudly announced they would go on their own,
while the others decided to find a good place to cook for the mothers. Brant seemed more willing to go with the girls, but
they insisted he not come, and finally his mother persuaded him to join the adults.
Once their families left, Trina and Christina felt a little relieved. They looked around
—the venue was large, almost like a large shopping mall, and just as crowded, except that
naked "volunteers" and semi-naked "guests" were mixed among well-dressed visitors. In the distance, they could
occasionally hear shouts and sobs coming from the kitchens or tents, making the girls
tremble with fear and excitement. Every now and then, the loudspeaker would announce the number and name of a randomly selected volunteer
, followed by instructions such as "The North Gallows" or "Kiki's Restaurant." Every time they
heard the announcement over the loudspeaker, the girls' hearts pounded with anxiety.
"Let's find a way to end this, okay?" Trina sighed, putting her arm around Christina
's waist and whispering in her ear.
"Maybe we can look around first?"
"Okay, let's go."
Trina and Christina spotted a small group of people in the atrium. Squeezing to the front, they saw
a huge wooden cross on the ground, with a voluptuous woman bound to it. Once they
confirmed the girl was securely bound, a cable dangled from the third-floor ceiling, slowly
pulling the cross up. As her weight caused a vibrator attached to the cross to penetrate her body,
she began to writhe violently, whimpering. Looking up, the girls could see three other
crosses suspended at different heights, like living erotic decorations, easily viewed
by those on the upper floors.
"Sexy, isn't it?" Trina heard a familiar voice from behind, and a small, soft
hand touched her shoulder. The two girls turned around and saw a girl about their age, also
completely naked and wearing the same labia tag as them. She was petite, with small, perky breasts
and a cute, slightly chubby bottom.
"Oh, hi, Anne! I didn't know you'd 'volunteered' too," Trina exclaimed, both surprised and delighted to see the familiar face.
Next to Anne was her sister, Helen—who was wearing a bikini that was basically just a few thin straps. The girls
greeted each other and hugged.
"Well, I made a deal with the devil," Anne said with an embarrassed smile. "I failed math
... I promised the principal that if Mr. Newman let me go, I'd volunteer for the fundraising dinner."
"You miscalculated, huh? Helen, what about you?"
"Oh, I haven't sold my soul yet... thank you for your concern," Helen laughed.
"But I'm trying to persuade her to sell..." It was Helen's boyfriend, Paul, who spoke. He
appeared from behind Helen and placed his hands on her almost bare breasts.
“Dream on! Don’t even think about it!” Helen giggled, breaking free from his clumsy embrace.
The five of them decided to continue their adventure together. They traversed the entire floor, spying on many
kitchens where women were being prepared and cooked in unimaginable ways, and of course, the paid entertainment activities where visitors tortured
or even executed volunteers were also their targets. In one tent, they lingered
for a few minutes, watching a game of throwing knives—the targets being the breasts, bellies, and buttocks of some unfortunate girls
. In the next tent, they saw two seats that looked like barber chairs against the opposite wall. As they
approached, they discovered that one of the empty chairs had two gleaming, brass-colored vibrators protruding from it;
in the other chair sat a girl about Helen’s age. She was handcuffed, the leather straps
crossing over her breasts, with two electrodes attached to her nipples, and a smaller electrode attached to her erect
clitoris—all of these electrodes were connected to a metal box by wires. The poor girl
whimpered and writhed incessantly, her little hands and feet
twitching and relaxing repeatedly with each current flowing through her nipples, buttocks, and genitals. Suddenly, a long, sharp moan escaped her lips—everyone
knew she had reached orgasm. Paul nudged his girlfriend and whispered something in her ear, but Helen
just chuckled softly and shook her head. They watched the girl on the chair enjoy several more orgasms until
the current finally stopped, at which point the assistant untied the exhausted volunteer and helped her to the side to wait in her
boyfriend's arms.
At that moment, Trina and Christina overheard a conversation in the crowd surrounding the electric chair.
"No way! I don't want to play this."
Coward! "
No way! Let's have a contest!"
"If you go, I'll go too!"
"Deal!"
Trina and Christina searched the crowd and, sure enough, found the Nelson twins bickering.
“Hey, Christina, Trina! What are you doing here?”
“Hey, our parents donated us. What about you?” Trina asked.
“Don’t say… let me guess,” Christina interrupted. “You’re both trying to get each other to volunteer
!”
The Nelson sisters looked at each other and suddenly burst into laughter. These two sisters, seemingly different yet connected, always loved
doing crazy things together. Christina knew it was only a
matter of time before they ended up in a place like this.
As soon as two chairs became available, the sisters went over and sat down simultaneously, each aiming at the electric rod. An assistant
came over and gently pressed their shoulders a few times to confirm that the electric rod was inserted into their vaginas—this made the two
girls gasp, but to avoid embarrassment, they bravely maintained their smiles. Once they
were tied up and secured, the assistant immediately turned and announced that the show had begun—any
chip sold in front of the tent could now be inserted into the control box to activate the current. According to the poster on the wall next to the chair, the current
was designed to work in the following mode: the first chip would generate a gentle current for several minutes
; the second chip would generate a sharp, jagged current with a voltage spike that could cause excruciating pain; and once the
third chip was inserted, the voltage would rise sharply, eventually reaching a level that could cook the victim. The two sisters stared wide-
eyed as someone approached and inserted a chip into the control box. Almost immediately, their young
bodies tensed under the current—though their reactions suggested they felt
little pain. Soon after, Laura's entire body convulsed, her head snapped back, and
with a sigh of pleasure, she cried out her first orgasm, "One!"
"One!" Anne's orgasm soon followed.
Both girls reached several orgasms before the first stage of torture ended, but their incessant
, amusing bickering meant they wouldn't be released so easily—someone inserted
another chip into the machine, ushering in the second stage of their ordeal. Now the sisters truly began
to suffer: with each peak, they gasped and screamed, sweat
streaming down their delicate bodies—strangely, the waves of orgasm didn't stop assaulting their flesh.
At that moment, a group of boys entered the room. Initially, the twins, gritting their teeth and enjoying the overwhelming waves
of orgasm, didn't notice them; but when one of the boys, encouraged by his companions, took a chip and
walked towards the control box, they finally realized what was about to happen.
"Oh…no, um…don't!" they tried to protest simultaneously, but it seemed too late: with
a click, as the third chip was inserted, their fate was sealed. A few seconds later,
the boys, seemingly realizing what they had done, watched with a touch of guilt as the girls writhed and
sobbed more and more intensely—until their bodies slumped permanently in their chairs after the final climax.
“Not bad, not bad!” Christina said, secretly caressing herself while everyone was watching the twins
. “Poor Nelson sisters,” Helen sighed, “I don’t think they expected
it to end like this.”
“Anyway, they won’t suffer anymore,” Paul commented.
“We will too…” Anne sighed.
“Amen,” Trina concluded with a smile, “Let’s keep going, girls… and a certain boy.”
The five of them had now arrived in front of a restaurant called “Food + Show.” The gallows in the center of the restaurant
seemed to be what they called the “show”? —It was a very rudimentary contraption, just
an empty space in the middle of a table, a winch, and a rope tied in a hanging knot. As they entered the restaurant, a
staff member was removing the previous “performer”—Helen recognized her as one of her classmates.
As the body was roughly dragged towards the kitchen, the next woman was already standing under the winch. When she turned around
, Trina was surprised to find that the naked woman with her hands cuffed was none other than
her mother. Mrs. Malcolm looked nervous, but when she saw Trina and her friends,
she smiled and greeted them, nodding towards the table where Trina and the men of Christina's family were sitting
.
"Hey, little pumpkin!" Christina's father patted his daughter's plump bottom and called out, "
I find you haven't finished with yourself yet?" His fingers casually slid into her wet vulva.
"Hi, Daddy," Christina gasped, collapsing into his arms as the fingers continued to probe deeper
.
"We're still exploring." "Trina explained for the two of them. Now she could
walk around naked without batting an eye, but in front of her brother and father, she still couldn't help but
cover her lovely breasts and smooth private parts with her hands.
Then the 'performance' began again. The winch under the ceiling hummed softly, slowly
tightening the rope around Mrs. Malcolm's neck. She stood on tiptoe, trying to maintain her balance for a moment, not to
be completely hoisted up—her body was raised to about half a person's height so that everyone in the room
could see her clearly. In her defiant struggle for her rapidly fading..." As she struggled for her life, her body
writhed violently, her legs kicking incessantly, her chest heaving. Slowly, her movements subsided,
but they became even more sensual: she slowly pulled her taut, intertwined legs together,
then suddenly kicked downwards, thrusting her voluptuous genitals forward for everyone in the room to see.
Trina watched, mesmerized, as her mother reached her final climax, finally giving up resistance,
limply hanging from the end of the rope, silently accepting the applause and cheers of the audience. Finally, her reverie was
interrupted by her brother—"That was amazing, Mom!" Brant shouted, then turned and said, "You..."
"Want to try this, dear sister? Perform an aerial ballet for us?"
"Go to hell! No way!" she replied immediately.
"Well, little Pumpkin. If you want to see your mother, you'll need to go to the kitchen,"
Mr. Jessper said, patting Christina's bottom. "And you can cook us a good meal yourself, huh?"
"No…no!" "Christina stuck out her tongue and laughed, but still walked towards the kitchen with Trina and the others
. Before they even reached the kitchen, they saw Christina's mother: her hands were cuffed, and
she had been led to the long, narrow grill separating the cooking area from the dining area. The chef guided her to kneel before the grill
, bending down to place her oiled breasts on it. Two other women were doing the same thing nearby,
their tears and low moans revealing their suffering. Another girl was
writhing at the other end of the grill—her buttocks and genitals were being grilled into juicy, delicious patties. When Mrs. Jesspe's snow-white,
full breasts touched the hot metal, she flinched and let out a soft cry—but when
she saw her daughter, she managed a smile.
"Hi, baby..." the chef said, turning her breasts on the grill with a fork, causing her to pause in pain
. "You must be very hungry... uh... tell them to give you some appetizers." She
nodded towards the grilling breasts. "The main course... oh... it'll be ready in a while."
"Wow, thank you, Mom," Christina said, looking at her mother's golden-brown, fragrant breasts, imagining
what it would be like to be on that grill herself.
Soon, Mrs. Jessper was led back into the dining room, her breasts placed on plates, where a
naked waitress cut the tender flesh into pieces and served them to everyone. Everyone, including
Christina, raved about the taste, and Mrs. Jessper responded to
their praise with a painful yet gratified smile.
As soon as the appetizer was finished, Annie became restless. "I want to see more before it's all over
"—this was her first time at the Showroom!
"Alright, let's go," Christina agreed, "See you later, guys... if nothing
'happens'." "She made a face at them as she spoke, then ran off laughing.
Trina, Christina, and their companions continued exploring the other floors. They stopped to watch for a moment
—a woman nailed to a cross—suspended about two stories high in the atrium. Her sensual body
was soaked with sweat, her dark hair plastered to her face, her eyes half-closed, as she danced a provocative dance:
she kept trying to lift her body to relieve the pressure on her arms, then
collapsed from the throbbing pain in her legs—during which she was constantly making piston-like movements with the metal rod inserted into her vagina.
Continuing on, they discovered an even more excited crowd surrounding some new entertainment. Upon
closer inspection, the first thing they saw was the main prop common to many of the games—a water tank. A naked
girl sat on a small chair placed on top of a large glass water tank, next to which was a small target—"
—When someone hits the target with a tennis ball, the latch under the chair loosens, and the girl sitting on it
is submerged in warm water. Unlike typical games, however, this girl wears a heavy belt,
and the water in the tank is deep enough to completely submerge her—this cruel fate is not inevitable
. As they watch, three balls miss the target in a row, and the girl, visibly relieved,
is put down. When she returns to her boyfriend, they discover he was the clumsy pitcher
. Then they see another girl nervously sit on the chair—again, three attempts
fail. Each time the ball misses the target, a sigh of disappointment erupts from the crowd.
At this point, the organizers ask who wants to… Helen was about to volunteer, but no one stepped forward immediately. Suddenly,
Helen, seemingly on a whim, gave her boyfriend a mischievous smile and skipped forward
—Paul was behind the line in front of the target. Helen took off her leather bra, proudly
displaying her full breasts to the cheering and whistling crowd, then untied
the straps of her underwear, kicked off her shoes, and finally stood naked in front of the water tank, playfully
blowing kisses to the crowd. An assistant came and helped her up the ladder, sat on the chair above the water tank, and
fastened a sturdy, heavy belt around her waist. Helen sat on the small wooden seat,
smiling nervously, her hands on her knees. She closed the lid, her legs pressed tightly together, ankles crossed. When she heard
the whistling sound of the ball tearing through the air, she trembled, closed her eyes, and screamed; but a moment later,
she opened her eyes and found herself still sitting comfortably in her seat.
Paul now found hitting that small target not as easy as it seemed. His second ball was just
a few fingers' width from the target, eliciting a sigh of regret from the crowd and
a slight sigh of relief from his terrified girlfriend. Finally, filled with rage, Paul threw the last ball with all his might. Helen suddenly
heard several clattering mechanical sounds, her eyes widening rapidly. Then she felt a cold draft
brush against her warm, damp crotch—her chair had been removed! Her body plunged violently into the water tank, splashing… Paul
and several others standing in front of the tank were soaking wet. A cheer and applause erupted from the crowd,
some even patting Paul on the back in congratulations. Then, amidst a cacophony of bubbles, Helen crashed to
the bottom of the tank. Almost instantly, she regained her footing and tried to return to the surface—but the heavy belt she was wearing
thwarted all her efforts. The girl panicked, her small hands helplessly pounding and scratching at the glass
walls of the tank. After a few seconds of futile struggle, she realized she couldn't escape. Her beautiful blue
eyes stared through the glass at her boyfriend—he was close to the tank, intently watching the drowning girl's
every tremor, a mixture of lust and fear. Helen smiled bitterly, her tightly closed lips parting to utter a few...
Bubbles; her long golden hair swirled around her head like a halo, her right hand caressed her
body, climbing up her firm nipples; while her left hand stealthily reached between her legs. Paul watched her
slender fingers move rapidly, her eyes fixed on him—even as she struggled to hold back the last breath in her trembling chest
. Finally, a look of intoxication flashed across Helen's face, her legs
curled up, her back arched, and she exhaled large puffs of bubbles. Her limbs twitched again, then stopped
, and her body lay motionless at the bottom of the tank. As another announcement came over the loudspeaker, Paul and the girls were still savoring the rare experience, and Anne only 　　reacted
after hearing her name . 　　"Oh, God! I think they mentioned me..." The announcement was repeated—this time they heard it clearly: Anne's number had been 　　chosen by 　　a place called "Yuan Ji Noodle Shop." 　　"Okay, I think I have to go," Anne said nervously. 　　"Mind if we come over and take a look?" Trina asked. 　　"Of course!" Anne said eagerly—at least she wouldn't be alone on the way. 　　The three girls started looking for the restaurant, having to ask for directions twice before 　　finally finding it behind a fur shop on the third floor. It was a quaint Chinese restaurant, but they didn't have time 　　to appreciate it properly: they were late. As worried Anne ran ahead, with Trina and Christina following closely behind, rushing 　　into the kitchen, the impatient Chinese chef was already waiting. 　　"Little girls, why are you so slow? Hurry up, come here!" Someone had just removed her labia tag when he 　　shoved her into the shower. 　　The girl, now clean and pink, was then dazed and pulled over to shave, after which she found herself standing in 　　front of a large pot half-buried in the floor (for people to crawl in). Two other young girls were already sitting 　　inside, their bright red nipples oozing steaming soup. 　　"Hurry up, go in!" The chef nudged Annie's small, round bottom. 　　"Just...go in like this? Right now?" The girl hesitated, glancing around mournfully. 　　"Yes, right now! What are you waiting for? You should have been sitting in there 10 minutes ago." 　　With a sigh, Annie sat down on the floor, carefully testing the water temperature with her foot near the pot. She glanced back 　　at Trina and Christina, who were smiling and waving encouragingly, then closed her eyes and slid into the soup. 　　The moment the scalding liquid touched her skin, she screamed and tried to crawl back—but someone pressed down 　　on her shoulder. 　　"Sit down! Sit properly and be cooked." "The cook roared in her ear. 　　Anne squirmed and cried out in unease, but soon she adjusted to the temperature. Her bent legs 　　intertwined with those of the two girls in the same pot. They tried to comfort her, massaging her body with their soft hands. 　　One of them leaned in and kissed Anne; the other mischievously slipped a toe into Anne's genitals and tickled her there 　　. Anne breathed a sigh of relief and smiled slightly. 　　"Girls, there's still one more spot over there," the cook 　　said, looking at Trina and Christina, who were staring at Anne. 　　The girls exchanged glances. "Oh, no, thank you!" Trina smiled politely and 　　walked out of the kitchen with Christina. 　　"What do we do now?" Trina asked after they came out. 　　"I think we should make a decision quickly, or who knows where we'll be chosen!" Christina 　　suggested. 　　"I think you're right. But let's face it together." Trina said, taking Christina 　　's hand. 　　"Hi, girls." “Mr. Malcolm’s voice came from behind. Brant and Mr. Jessup were also 　　there, along with two unfamiliar young women. “This is Mei, and the other is Jessica,” he introduced 　　. 　　“Hi!” Trina and Christina greeted them, and they responded with smiles. “So, children, 　　where have you all been?” Trina’s father asked. 　　“Well, I think we’re ready to be dealt with now,” Trina said hesitantly. 　　“Well, we’re also getting ready for our second meal,” Mr. Jessup interjected. 　　“You two!” Christina said with a laugh, “How much meat are you planning to eat in one day?” 　　“You can never have too much meat, especially something this delicious!” he said, poking Christina’s firm nipple 　　, and everyone laughed. 　　“Well, we need some advice. Do you have any favorite places?” Christina asked. 　　“There’s a nice Middle Eastern restaurant over there,” Jessica suggested. “That sounds good, honey,” 　　Mr. Jessup agreed. “Lead the way.” Trina 　　wasn't sure if she wanted to be cooked, but she followed Christina anyway. The restaurant 　　was just around the corner, and they went in together. It was a spacious, busy restaurant with an open kitchen. 　　A waiter led them to a table and then took Trina and Christina to the kitchen. The Muslim chef 　　glanced at them quickly, seemingly satisfied. He called an assistant to take them directly to be cleaned, then 　　led them to a bench where a petite, dark-skinned girl was already sitting. 　　"Excuse me..." Trina started to say something to the chef. 　　"Just wait," he interrupted her, continuing to cook. 　　"I'm not sure if this is a good idea," Trina whispered nervously to Christina. 　　"Don't worry, everything will be fine," Christina tried to reassure Trina, but she 　　didn't sound very confident either. 　　"Hi, I'm Linita." "The girl next to her introduced herself. Before the girls could answer, 　　a rude cook grabbed their new friend and dragged her onto the counter. He laid the slender girl 　　down on her back and, without hesitation, raised the cleaver towards her neck. Linita's dark 　　eyes widened, but before she could scream, her head was severed—a clean decapitation! 　　Then, the cook immediately began to dismember her body.

“Well, at least it feels good,” Trina sighed. Christina nodded in agreement, swallowing hard
.
They didn’t have to wait long before the cook returned.
“Follow me!” he commanded, leading them to a tub filled with olive oil. “Put some
oil on yourselves, then wait here.” He finished speaking and turned to leave. Trina and Christina
exchanged glances, shrugged in unison, and climbed into the tub. The olive oil felt wonderful on their skin
, so the girls happily rubbed each other’s bodies, especially their private parts. But the pleasant time was
short-lived, and the cook soon returned with two assistants, interrupting their delightful little game. They took
Christina first, heading towards the main hall. Trina kissed her best friend goodbye, lay back in the tub, and awaited her own
time.
Christina’s feet were covered in oil, making it difficult to maintain her balance, so she had to walk almost on the arms of a waiter
. Suddenly, she froze—a sharp, long steel bar, almost as tall as her chest, lay on
the ground in front of her. Without hesitation, the cook dragged the girl over, made her stand beside the bar, and
tied her arms behind her back with a rope. Another brought a folding ladder, and with his help, Christina had to
climb it shakily. When she reached the top, she found the tip of the bar just below her crotch
. With two assistants holding her swaying legs, the cook guided her slowly down, supporting her hips. Christina
hesitantly cooperated, quickly feeling the cold metal tip enter her rectum.
"Just sit down like that," he said, continuing to lower her hips.
"Easier said than done," Christina thought, but still tried her best to obey. She felt lucky;
the oil applied earlier had made the entry much easier. The pole dilating her virgin anus caused her some pain, but
the feeling of being filled also brought her a strange sense of satisfaction. When the ladder was suddenly removed, Christina
panicked—no support meant the pole would penetrate even deeper. The girl's
legs immediately wrapped around the long pole, but this did not stop her descent. Finally, her toes
touched the metal base, but an assistant came and held her shoulders until she was fully on the ground.
Christina was surprised to find that although she had been pierced halfway by the sharp steel pole, she was still full of energy
. The pole piercing her abdomen was painful, but not as unbearable as she had imagined. She was then
placed aside, seemingly forgotten for a moment, which gave her her first chance to take a good look around. The pole
was located on the long table separating the kitchen and dining room, where every guest could see her—in fact, her father
and friends had watched the entire piercing process from a nearby table. When their eyes met,
he waved to her, and Christina responded with an embarrassed smile—stuck
like a butterfly in a museum, her hands bound behind her back, unable to conceal her naked body.
Then someone brought a penis-shaped steel rod and attached it to the bottom of a pole—it easily slid
into Christina's wet vagina. Next, an upright heater was placed beside her, and Christina
finally understood her recipe: upright roasting. Once the heater was hot,
the platform on which the girl stood, along with the pole, began to slowly rotate. The temperature quickly became unbearable, causing
her to slowly writhe and moan—to her surprise, Christina immediately discovered that by
simply sliding slightly up and down along the pole, she could gently and unnoticedly masturbate her genitals and
buttocks.
Leaving Christina writhing on the French grill, the chef and his assistants returned to deal with Trina
. They lifted her from the oil pan and placed her on the cooking counter. Trina
felt a mixture of hope and fear. She would be slaughtered quickly, just like the dark-skinned girl before her. She lay face down, her chest against the cold table,
her feet on the ground, her cute little bottom exposed to the air. She was left like that for a while, but the girl
was too terrified to look up and see what was about to happen. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands gripped
her buttocks and parted her labia with fingers; then she felt a cold, smooth object invade
her body. In her fear, Trina didn't even realize how much she was aroused—her genitals hungrily swallowed
the intruder; and as if in response to her obvious demands, the object began to move in and out of her muddy lower
body repeatedly. But all this didn't last long. Soon Trina felt the steel fill her thirsty vagina, then
penetrate her body further without stopping, passing right through. The girl closed her eyes, gripped the table, and silently
felt the steel rod enter her chest, then her throat; then someone grabbed her hair, lifted
her head so that the rod would pass through her mouth and protrude from between her lips. Trina stared in astonishment at the very
thing that had been giving her pleasure, now emerging from her open mouth.
In her dazed state, Trina felt her arms bound behind her back and her legs tied to
a pole that passed through her body. A securing rod was added to the pole and deeply inserted into her rectum. Finally,
the pole was lifted, and Trina was carried to the main hall along with it. As Trina passed near Christina,
the girls exchanged only a few glances before Christina's body was turned around, while Trina
was carried further towards the nearby heating pit. Once placed on a burning pit, Trina immediately felt the temperature
rise rapidly. Soon, her world began to spin with the rotation of the pole—
the flames searing one side of her body while offering slight relief to the rest.
Christina's world also spun in different planes. The heater just below her neck
concentrated all its heat on her young, alluring body. Christina gasped and moaned, secretly
writhing between the two poles, climbing towards her second climax—even though she could feel and smell herself
being slowly roasted, starting from her high breasts and buttocks. Shortly after Christina was placed in the roasting pit, a cook came
to her side, and as she writhed, he deftly roasted her with a long knife.
The meat was quickly placed on Mr. Jesspe's table, and the father confirmed that his daughter had seen
him put her roasted nipple in his mouth and raise his glass to her—Christina smiled weakly
.
Trina's body twisted constantly, allowing her to see everything from a suitable angle. Her half-closed eyes
met Christina's, then her brother's, then her father's. As she involuntarily writhed from the heat
, she also experienced the pleasure of "riding the pole." To her maximum extent, she stretched and contracted
her body, sliding her entire body up and down on the pole, allowing it to enter and exit her vagina and
hold it in place. As the heat slowly overwhelmed her will, her movements gradually slowed, but before
her consciousness faded, she reached a powerful climax.

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