【game】

Game
Author: Cheng Xiao
I've always felt that my son and daughter seem a little off.
I'm not talking about them secretly having sex. Although they try to keep it a secret, it's easy for a mother to notice. However, I don't want to talk about that, because I've had a similar experience with my brother Andy until we both got married and stopped seeing each other.
I'm referring to their cooking. They're responsible for dinner every Friday. But strangely, the main dish is always roast meat. And I've noticed that they get very excited whenever they watch the meat sizzle on the roasting fork. This
has been bothering me for a long time, and I think I need to find out. At least, I can try to enjoy it myself.
I'm still young, at least by most mothers' standards. I had George at 14 and Julie at 16, so I'm only 36 now. I have beautiful blonde hair that reaches my shoulders, and I'm quite tall, 5'6", a slender woman. My friends say I look a bit like the supermodel Anna, at least in terms of build. As far as
I can remember, this strange phenomenon started about six months ago. If I remember correctly, since then, they've been frequently attending some mysterious party. They always leave around noon the day before and don't return until the evening of the next day, always looking very excited.
I've tried asking them, but each time I get evasive answers. I think it's time to take action.
The next day, George and Julie went out to the gym together, and I knew they wouldn't be back for at least an hour or two.
After watching their car drive away through the window, I hurriedly rushed into George's room. Under the bed, in the closet, in the drawers—aside from some photos, I found nothing unusual.
Was I just imagining things? I asked myself. Just as I was about to give up, I spotted a tightly locked black metal box under a pile of his messy clothes in the corner.
I smiled and pulled a small piece of wire from my pocket. When it comes to lock-picking, I'm an expert!
Inside were only a few magazines, their covers a plain black, with the white title "Delicious Food" and the publication date and issue number printed on them. The top one was number 122.
Was George going to be a chef? What was so special about locking up these ordinary cooking magazines? Driven by curiosity, I casually flipped to the first page.
For a full half minute, I almost forgot to breathe. On the first page was a picture of a very fit and mature woman. She was completely naked, her pubic hair shaved clean, her hands tightly bound behind her back with rope. But what shocked me wasn't that; it was that she was being hanged for execution.
It wasn't that I was ignorant; I had seen similar suffocating images on the internet before. Although it wasn't my favorite style, I had at least encountered it before, but I had never seen anything so realistic. I examined it closely, trying to find something unusual as usual. I failed: the girl's relaxed leg muscles, her half-protruding tongue, and the long, drooping saliva. A thought flashed through my mind: Could this be real?
The shock didn't end there. The striking headline next to the girl made it even more unbelievable: "How to Get Pleasure from Your Food!"
A strange feeling coursed through my body—I couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement. My whole body trembled uncontrollably, my nipples hardened involuntarily, and a sweet, hot sensation began to rise in my lower body.
I let out a low moan, suppressing the urge to climax, and continued flipping through the magazine.
Just as I expected, it was all true, at least that's what the magazine described.
The girl's name was "Michelle," and she was a lawyer, or rather, she used to be.
She was slaughtered this March, a month ago, at a restaurant called "Hell's House." According to the article, Michelle was soaked in a special seasoning sauce two days before her slaughter, allowing the flavor to seep into her skin.
The chef cleaned the hair off her skin, shaving everything except her head. Then came the enema, repeated five or six times to thoroughly cleanse her body. After all preparations were complete, as shown in the photograph on the first page, the chef hanged Michelle in the kitchen.
The following is a lengthy description: After lowering Michelle down, the chef cut open her abdomen, removing her internal organs from her mons pubis to the bottom of her ribs, filling the empty abdomen with a special filling, and then sewing it up. It's worth noting that, according to the article, the thread wasn't from ordinary stores, but made from the intestines of previously slaughtered girls.
After the preparations were complete, the chef began cooking Michelle. He placed Michelle on a special grill with many small barbs, so that even when flipped, her body wouldn't fall into the fire pit below.
And so, after two hours of grilling and countless applications of seasoning, a delicious main course was ready. I stared me in fascination at the last picture in the article, the image of Michelle after she was finished grilling: her eyes were half-open, her light blue pupils had lost their luster, and her hands hung limply at her sides. Her entire body was grilled to a golden-brown color, but I felt that this color made her body even more sexy, even more sensual, irresistibly drawing me in.
I began to fantasize. My hands caressed my abdomen, as if the chef were ripping open my stomach and removing my internal organs. Suddenly, I felt weakness in my knees, and I collapsed onto the bed, as if placed on a grill. I seemed to feel the scorching heat, like the feeling of washing my genitals with hot water in the bathroom.
I reached my climax, feeling my clitoris melting in a searing, intense sensation; not only that, it felt as if my entire body was melting. I trembled with this feeling, experiencing an extremely intense orgasm.
I flipped through a few more magazines; they were almost all the same, differing only in methods, chefs, and girls.
I thought of the delicious barbecue I enjoyed every week, and their excited emotions while preparing it.
I think I understand the secret now.
Leaving my son's room, I went into my daughter's. Although I already knew their little secret, I wanted to know more; perhaps a meticulous daughter would collect more and more exciting things than a careless son.
Perhaps it's because women tend to hide things in similar places, but this time I found what I wanted without much trouble.
Unsurprisingly, my daughter had almost twice as many magazines as my son. Besides the same magazine "Delicious Food", there is another magazine called "Health & Beauty".
Having learned from my previous experience, I knew this seemingly unremarkable magazine would also hide incredibly exciting and anticipated content. My hands, trembling slightly, were about to turn the pages.
"Shit!" I heard my son and daughter's car outside the bed. There wasn't time to read it, but I desperately didn't want to let go. I hesitated for a moment, then left the magazine in my hands. Maybe I could finish reading it before they found it and put it back, I reassured myself.
"Hi, Mommy," they greeted me warmly.
I gave them a somewhat awkward smile: "Wow, that went by so fast today?"
"No, not really," George glanced at his watch: "Just like usual, a full two hours, we're exhausted."
"Oh…" I was a little taken aback. Perhaps I was overthinking it, but Julie's smile made it seem to me that she knew everything perfectly well. I hurriedly fled to my room, leaving behind the words, "I'm not feeling well today. You guys can eat by yourselves tonight."
The following time was one of extreme pleasure. In my room, I half-reclined on the bed, looking at the stolen copy of "Health & Beauty," which made me absolutely certain that my decision was right. The magazine's contents were astonishing yet impossible to put down: article after article taught women how to maintain their health and fitness, but the goal wasn't some so-called preservation of youth, but rather how to better maintain the smoothness and flexibility of their muscles. In simpler terms, it was about how to maintain better meat quality so that it would taste good after cooking.
One article even provided a rating system for meat quality, divided into five levels from top to bottom: "Excellent," "Premium," "Superior," "Medium," and "Inferior." However, according to it, unless you were a 200-pound obese woman, you wouldn't be considered "Inferior," and even those with a standard figure would be considered "Superior." And what about me?
I tried testing myself using the methods described in the article: tightening my vagina to demonstrate muscle tension,
pricking to demonstrate muscle elasticity… Although I tried seven of the ten methods in the article
—generally, only three or four tests are needed—I still couldn't give an accurate assessment of my meat quality. There's no way around it; there's a lack of a fair judge. Even so, I can be certain that I'm at least "high-quality" meat; whether I'm "top-quality" is beyond my control.
According to the article, different cooking methods are used depending on the meat quality. In the article I read earlier, Michelle's meat seemed to be only "high-quality." "Medium" and "lower" quality meat isn't suitable for grilling. It's usually butchered after slaughter and used as raw material for canning.
While "high-quality" meat, theoretically, is suitable for grilling… But that's just theory. In practice, they're usually cut and sold as steaks.
Of all the cooking methods, the one that interests me most is a kind of grilling called "live skewering."
This method has very strict requirements for the meat quality; it must be "top-grade."
I stared me, mesmerized, at the photos attached to the article. What a beautiful woman she was! I watched the piercing rod that had pierced her body, entering through her anus and emerging from her mouth, and I began to
fantasize about being pierced in the same way…
"Knock, knock, knock!" Just at this crucial moment, there was a knock on the door, and Julie's voice came from outside: "Mom, I'm coming in."
"Ah…" I panicked. Although my lust subsided instantly, my clothes were still half-open, and to make matters worse, I was still holding the book I'd taken from Julie's room.
"Wait...wait a minute!" I called out awkwardly, hurriedly buttoning up my shirt and tossing the magazine under the bed. I grabbed a random book and said, "Please...please come in..."
"Mommy, what are you doing?" Julie's smile was always beautiful, a consistent comment. But now, her smile seemed a little eerie to me. "Reading?"
"Yes, yes!" I forced a smile. "What's up?"
"What book are you reading?" Julie didn't answer my question but asked me in return. She came over, sat down on the edge of the bed, and leaned against my half-drawn legs. "You...look like you've got it upside down."
"Whoosh!" I could even hear my face suddenly turn red; the embarrassment was truly unpleasant. I smiled awkwardly, utterly speechless.
Fortunately, Julie didn't dwell on the matter too much, but quickly changed the subject: "Mommy, I have something to tell you."
I perked up a little and asked, "What is it, honey?"
"Well, Mommy," Julie said, "I think you know about George and me, right?" What was it
? My heart skipped a beat. Was it their affair, or the strange magazines in their room? I didn't answer directly: "Honey, what is it?"
Julie laughed, suddenly lifting my skirt and pressing her hand against the crotch of my underwear: "Hehe, so wet! What were you doing before I came in, Mommy? Don't hide it from me."
In an instant, I blushed deeply, not for anything else, but for the feeling of being suddenly seen through by my daughter. I shoved Julie's hand away, "You..." but couldn't say anything.
Julie bent down and picked up the magazine from under the bed, saying, "Mommy, after seeing this, don't you want to enjoy it too?"
I composed myself. Since they already knew, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. I smiled and said, "What's there to enjoy? Seeing this makes me half-dead with desire!" "
Then do you want to share it with us, Mommy?" Julie's eyes were full of mischief: "We'll give you the best enjoyment."
"This..." Although I was more than willing in my heart, I still had to put on a motherly facade.
I deliberately hesitated for a moment: "Julie, can you tell me about it?"
"Sure," my daughter readily agreed. "It all started a year ago when George and I went to Uncle Andy's for summer vacation."
"A year ago? You and George should have gotten together by then, right?"
"Hehe, you're such a good mom, you know everything." Julie paused, then hugged me and kissed me. "Aunt Diane just happened to pass away then, and Uncle Andy... he was a little lonely... and then... well, you probably know."
I snorted, not for any other reason than that Andy, that guy, really is a womanizer, having affairs with both mother and daughter. But I didn't show it outwardly.
"Mom, do you know how Aunt Diane passed away?" Julie asked.
"Didn't you say it was a car accident?" I answered casually, only realizing something was off as soon as the words left my mouth. Why was Julie asking me this now of all times? I hesitated for a moment, looking at Julie's smiling face: "Could it be... she is..." I pointed to the magazine in Julie's hand.
"Bingo!" Julie excitedly pulled a magazine I hadn't seen from under her clothes and handed it to me. The issue number was no. 107.
I turned to the first page, and Diane's familiar face appeared before me—just her face. Her body was being roasted by the scorching coals, her once snow-white skin now golden...
I swallowed hard, my mouth watering, as my daughter recounted, "Actually, Uncle Andy's real job isn't a salesman at all; that's just a facade. His real job is the head chef at 'Hell's House'!"
"'Hell's House'?" I remembered the first magazine in George's box—it was about the place where Michelle was treated.
“Yes,” Julie said, “Mommy, the magazines you’re reading now, ‘Delicious Food,’ and ‘Health & Beauty,’ which you were just looking at, are both published by a publishing house affiliated with a company called Club X. And this Hell House is the most famous restaurant affiliated with Club X. And the party that George and I attend every week is organized by Club X.”
“Club X?” I listened blankly. I had seen information about it online before, and I thought it was all fiction, but I never imagined it actually existed right beside me, and even my brother and children were members.
I stood there, lost in thought, while Julie leaned closer with a grin. By the time I realized what was happening, her hand was already on my breast.
"Mom, you're so healthy," Julie exclaimed, stroking me. "It took me at least three months of bodybuilding to go from 'good' to 'top-quality.' And yours is already 'top-quality' now!"
"You're telling me all this…" I resisted Julie's wandering hands. "What for? Are you planning to recruit me as a member?" "
Yes," Julie whispered in my ear. "I've been chosen to participate in the 'Classic Game' at the next party. The survival rate is only one in ten, and I want Mom to see my final, most beautiful self!"
Everything became dramatic after Julie's confession. The next day, Andy moved in with us from out of town.
In the waiting period, my brother, children, and I spent a week that was both romantic and absurd.
Finally, the weekend arrived again, and all the unknown experiences were about to begin.
"Hey! My dear girls, it's time to go," Andy called to us from the doorway; he was driving us today.
"Okay, Uncle," George grinned, leading Julie and me out of the room. During this week, after we agreed and signed the official documents, I became Andy's personal slave, while Julie's master was his brother.
According to the club's rules, women attending the party were not allowed to wear any clothing, so naturally, Julie and I were naked except for the collars around our necks.
I sat in the back of the car, with Julie beside me. Through the transparent car window, we could clearly see our lewd appearance. Along the way, especially when we stopped at intersections because of traffic lights, Julie and I were subjected to burning stares, accompanied by provocative whistles.
After a not-so-short time, we finally arrived at our destination. From the outside, it was an ordinary villa, perhaps just a bit larger.
At the entrance, there were two very young and handsome waiters. They carefully examined the membership cards presented by Andy and George. To be precise, Andy's card was bright red with a knife and fork symbol, indicating that he was not only a member but also a head chef; George's card was pale yellow, without the knife and fork symbol, only a shallow dish symbol, indicating that he was just a regular member.
As for Julie, it seemed that the collar around her neck was her identifier. A waiter scanned it with a device, and her personal information appeared on a nearby computer, including her height, weight, body type, club membership number, and information about the activities she was scheduled to attend.
At that moment, another waiter used a device to read my information from my collar. Except for the "meat quality" section, which was blank, everything else was filled in.
"I arranged this for you beforehand," Andy whispered in my ear. "According to the rules, you can only register this time, not participate in the activities. But since I'm the chef here, this is a small favor I did."
"Thank you, Master," I replied.
"However, the 'meat quality' section still needs to be checked by an expert before it can be filled in. We can fill it in after we see Julie's activities."
While Andy and I were talking, two waiters were tying Julie up with rope, and she was gently and obediently complying. After everything was finished, one of them led her through an inconspicuous little door. Only then did I notice a small sign on the door: "Lucky Door Only." Entering through the main door, there was a small dressing room. Inside, I was surprised to find about a dozen women kneeling, all wearing hoods. Although I couldn't see their faces, I could tell from their skin that they were all young. They were tightly bound with ropes in a "tortoise shell" style, their hands tied behind their backs, and collars around their necks and shackles on their ankles further restricting their movement.
"This is…" Before I could finish my question, Andy had already led me out of the dressing room and into a spacious hall. Here, hundreds of women were dressed the same as those in the dressing room, except they had removed their hoods.
Besides these women, there were also about twenty maids moving about in the hall. However, their posture while carrying the drinks was somewhat peculiar. They were also shackled, crawling on all fours, with trays laden with drinks resting on their backs.
George leaned closer and chuckled, "This is also part of the X Club; we call it the 'Training Department.'"
"It's like this," Andy explained, noticing the confusion in my eyes, "The real X Club didn't originally have such low-level content as sadomasochism. But, due to the inherently demanding nature of our activities, and the fact that not everyone has the level to understand the enjoyment involved, we added a Sadomasochistic Pleasure Department (^_^) to train new members. That's why we call this the 'Training Department.'"
I laughed, "That's a great idea, but I wonder how successful it is?"
"As it stands, one hundred percent," Andy said. "Actually, every woman harbors a desire to be abused to some extent. Here, we simply take that desire to the extreme.
Give me a girl who seems perfectly normal by worldly standards, and I can make her willingly become my slave within two weeks. Two months later, I can make her willingly be pierced and roasted, as long as her flesh meets my requirements."
As we talked, we passed through the crowd in the hall. After several turns, we went up a staircase. At the top of the stairs was a door painted black with a large golden "X" on it.
For no reason, my heart suddenly started racing. After all, once I entered this door, my life would be completely changed. I suddenly wanted to stop and calm down, but Andy's steps guided me, allowing me no room for hesitation. I took a deep breath, trying to suppress my excitement, and followed my brother and son inside.
The space inside was twice the size of the entrance hall, but there were far fewer people. I roughly counted about seventeen or eighteen men and thirty-five or thirty-six women.
Andy was nowhere to be seen; only George remained with me. He was chatting with a man: "Mr. Rodge, where is your beautiful wife this time?"
"Mr. Rodge?" When I looked at him, I felt a little dizzy. The familiar, masculine face before me clearly told me that he was currently Hollywood's hottest actor, and his wife was none other than the famous model Anna Klaus.
“She’s going to participate in today’s game,” Roddy said. “Speaking of which, your sister seems to be participating too. By the way, where’s your uncle Andy? Isn’t it cooking time yet?”
“Heh, he’s going to personally prepare for his lovely niece, because this might be the last time he serves her.”
“Very likely,” Roddy shrugged.
A moment later, the lights in the room gradually dimmed, and a beam of light shone on a man around forty years old holding a microphone. He appeared to be today’s host.
“Distinguished members, I am today’s host, Rex. The game will now officially begin. First, let’s warmly welcome these ten brave women who will be participating in the game!”
Amidst our applause, ten women, including Julie, appeared before us. It was clear they had all dressed up carefully, at least Julie. On their bare buttocks were branded their own numbers; Julie's was "4".
"Now let me introduce you: Miss Daisy, number 1—she's only 19 years old, a freshman at the University of Washington—high-quality meat!"
The light shifted from Rex to the first girl on the left. Daisy was a very cute girl. Although she was 19, she looked only fourteen or fifteen, both in height and appearance. Short blonde hair, light blue eyes, a round, doll-like face—she looked like a porcelain doll.
As Rex introduced her, enthusiastic applause erupted: "Number 2, the sexy Mrs. Sean, Connie—top-quality meat!"
"Number 3, our beautiful 21-year-old flight attendant—Annette, top-quality meat!"
Next up was Julie. As an NBA dancer, her beauty was second to none. Moreover, her body was of the absolute best. Therefore, she received even more enthusiastic applause than the previous three. Of course, George and I clapped even more enthusiastically than the others.
The applause rang out again when Rex introduced Miss Number 7, also known as Mrs. Roddy, or the top model Anna: "Number 7, top model, the epitome of top-quality flesh—Ms. Anna!"
Another contestant received even more enthusiastic applause was Number 10, Doreen. She was a beautiful young woman with long brown hair, a writer by profession, and, more importantly, the ultimate winner of the last "classic game."
I smiled as I watched Julie. From her slightly trembling legs and her incredibly wet lower body, it was clear she was in a state of extreme arousal. She was truly beautiful.
The surrounding lights brightened again, and some staff members in white began busily moving out some equipment that looked strange to me. "Is the game about to begin?" I wondered.
"Hi," Andy appeared beside me. "Sorry to bother you. But you must undergo a meat quality check immediately."
"Can't I wait until I'm done?"
"Sorry, it's the rule. However, if everything goes smoothly, I think you can still see the second half of the game."
With that, Andy pulled on the chain attached to my collar, leading me out of the hall. I could only shrug, hoping Julie would be lucky enough to hold out until I returned.
The check took unexpectedly long, mainly because
Mr. Dunne, the "meat quality expert," used the most troublesome method.
Finally, he withdrew from my body with satisfaction, leaving a "superior" red mark on my buttocks.
But before that, he had already ejaculated twice…
Finally, I returned to the game hall. By this time, the game was more than halfway through, and only four girls remained standing: Daisy (number 1), Anna (number 7), Doreen (number 10), and my lovely daughter Julie (number 4).
In a corner of the hall, I saw Annette, hanging from the gallows, twitching slightly, her thighs covered in honey-like stains. One could imagine she had just experienced an extreme pleasure rarely attainable in ordinary times.
"Alright~ Now, let's move on to the seventh game. The test for our remaining four lucky contestants is 'ringing the bell'!"
As the announcer spoke, a staff member walked over carrying a square, metal prop with a circular hole in the center.
"This is called a 'portable neck-cutting machine.'" For me, a first-time participant, George was a great explainer: "Inside, there's a sharp blade. You see that round hole? That's where you stick your head through, put your neck in, and then press a button, and the blade pops out. However, to suit the game, this one has been modified accordingly."
"What?"
"Look at the upper right corner," George pointed there, "See, there are ten buttons. Nine of them are fake; only one actually activates the mechanism. It's a race to see who can..."
While we were talking, the game didn't stop. The host took the "portable neck-cutting machine" from the staff and walked towards contestant number one, Daisy. Daisy, who had been standing, knelt on the ground, leaning slightly forward, sticking her head out of the hole, and placing her long, white neck there. Then, her trembling fingers, whether from excitement or fear, reached for one of the ten buttons.
"Ugh..." In an instant, before any of the other contestants even had a chance to appear, the game was decided. As Daisy pressed the button, a sharp blade flashed out, and before we could fully react, Daisy's small head had rolled to the ground.
Contrary to expectations, there wasn't an immediate spurt of blood after her neck was severed. Her frail body swayed a few times, then jolted violently, and with this jolt, her blood finally gushed out, staining a patch of the floor red, gradually forming a pool that accentuated the
paleness of her headless body...
The game was paused for a moment because of the large amount of blood on the floor that needed cleaning. While the staff in white were busy, Julie approached us with a smile.
"Little sister, you're really putting your brother in a difficult position!" George complained with a smile.
"Oh?" Julie tilted her head, asking in confusion.
"Oh, I really hope you win the game again! But you're so alluring. I really want to taste your delicious body tonight. It's such a dilemma for me..."
Julie giggled and turned to me, saying, "Mommy, do I look pretty today?"
"One hundred!" I replied without hesitation. Indeed, compared to her usual self, she looked even more charming today. Perhaps it was because of the game, I thought.
"Alright, let's continue." Rex called to the remaining three contestants: "Two-thirds of the game is over. Our last winner, Miss Doreen, is still alive. I wonder if she can become a second consecutive winner? This beautiful Miss Julie, the Chicago Bulls' hot dancer, I wonder if she can still participate in tomorrow's Bulls vs. Jazz competition; and Miss Anna, if she loses this game, her manager will have a headache over breaching the contract. Okay, now for the eighth item: 'Fortune Cookies'!" "
This... are they going to have a competition to see who eats the most cookies?" I asked George, puzzled, as a staff member approached with a plate of cookies.
“Of course not,” George chuckled. “Mom, you need to take a good look at the ‘Club Handbook’! It’s kind of like drawing lots. These cookies are hollow, and in the middle is a slip of paper with the processing time and method written on it. Whoever draws the earliest time is the loser.”
Now, it was Julie’s turn to draw first. Her slip read: “26th (tomorrow) 8 o’clock, South Suburb Park, skewer barbecue.”
Next was Anna, whose slip read: “28th 5 pm, member Drake’s house, birthday dinner.”
Anna smiled and blew a kiss to her husband. She had already secured victory in this game; the only losers could be Julie or Doreen.
As Doreen picked up a cookie with trembling hands, the host, Rex, read the note aloud: "12 o'clock tonight, inside the club, baking."
A burst of enthusiastic applause erupted in the hall, people celebrating the delicious treat they were about to enjoy. Doreen, however, sat limply on the floor, her legs weak. Deciding the timing and method of her own creation must have been a difficult experience. I could clearly see Doreen's tears flowing uncontrollably, even dripping onto the floor.
"Wow~" After Doreen was helped into the kitchen by the staff, the host Rex announced again, "Next up is today's main event, the final battle! Our lovely Miss Julie vs. Supermodel Miss Anna!"
"Final battle?" I encountered another unfamiliar term: "Does it mean the two of them will duel?"
"Something like that," George patiently explained, "but the winner will be determined by who reaches orgasm first?"
"Orgasm?" I was even more confused.
"Well, you'll see for yourself," George gestured, "I think you'll understand."
In the center of the room, Julie and Anna were already passionately kissing and caressing each other, arousing each other's desire. Suddenly, I understood the meaning of the final battle.
The game (or perhaps it should be called a competition now) continued. However, I didn't pay too much attention to their actions. Before one of them even had her desire aroused, I was already finding it hard to suppress my own. After all, it was the first time I'd witnessed those scenes live. Ironically, most of the women present, like me, ignored Julie and Anna's behavior and became
entangled with their male partners…
After I caught my breath and calmed down, Julie and Anna's entanglement had reached its climax.
Clearly, Julie had completely succumbed to Anna's fingers. Under Anna's guidance, Julie's body trembled violently, her juices flowing freely. For her, this must have been an unforgettable orgasm!
Rex loudly announced Anna Roddy as the winner of the game. Everyone rushed to congratulate her. The loser, meanwhile, was taken to the kitchen by her uncle. Here, she would be impaled and grilled, becoming a delicacy for the club members that night.
On the kitchen counter, Julie lay flat on her back, with George and I standing on either side of her, her legs spread and raised high. Andy coated the long piercing rod with grease and then inserted the tip into Julie's vagina.
"Baby, let's begin," Andy asked. "Are you ready?"
"Ahhh..." Julie took a deep breath, gripping my hand tighter. "I think we can begin."
Andy pressed his left hand against Julie's flat stomach, while his right hand forcefully pushed the piercing rod deeper into her body. At the beginning, thanks to the grease and vaginal fluid, everything went smoothly; I could even hear the sound of the piercing rod piercing Julie's uterus.
Next, Andy carefully rotated the piercing rod, penetrating deeper and deeper without damaging Julie's major internal organs. Julie, ever cooperative, reported the progress with trembling lips until the tip of the piercing rod emerged from her half-open mouth.
Four hours later, Julie and Doreen were placed on the table simultaneously. Unlike Doreen, who had been cooked in the oven, Julie's body was an extremely vibrant golden color, glistening with the grease from grilling, making her appear even more sexy and beautiful. So much so that after Julie's body was completely devoured, Doreen's body was still mostly left.
Of course, I also enjoyed Julie's delicious meal. I thought my taste probably wouldn't be inferior to hers. Therefore, I began to somewhat hope that I would be chosen… but until then, I'd better enjoy myself!

[The End]

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