Another Satisfied Customer

Discussion in 'Banned DA Stories' started by Trystl, Apr 6, 2018.

  1. Trystl Bondage Heroine [__________] The Bondage Heroine

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    Another Satisfied Customer

    "This is the place I was telling you about," Jerome said as eh led Henrik towards the back alley door of a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

    From the outside, the place sure didn’t look like much, but Jerome was a good enough friend that Henrik pushed down his reluctance and walked inside beside him. The inside, although small, was much nicer. Carpets dampened the dinner-time buzz of conversation and the décor was actually kind of upscale. Henrik didn’t recognize any of the faces but he recognized the expensive suits.

    “Good evening, Jerome,” an attractive blonde hostess in a black, full-body latex suit said. “Who is your handsome friend?”

    Handsome? Henrik thought with a pleased smile.

    Shameless flattery was just one of the many perks of his few-found fame, for it was obvious that the hostess knew exactly who he was. No one who didn’t was likely to call Henrik handsome.


    “Hello, Marta,” Jerome said, “This is Henrik Bronson, the famous chef and food-slave critic. He’s here for that dinner special Andrea promised to have ready.”

    “Welcome to the Bound Beast, Mr. Henrik. Please, come right this way and I’ll show you to your entrée.”

    Henrik followed the blonde’s shiny ass as she led the way down a hall into a back room, where Henrik expected the kitchen to be. Instead, the room appeared to be a place where the dinner’s menus could be displayed.

    An attractive young food slave, with black hair, was standing in the display case: a round glass prison that looked a little like a glass jar. It had a flexible, jointed metal security screen that could be closed when the girl wasn’t meant to be displayed. At the moment it was closed so that the girl inside it could be seen; and beside her, on the floor, was a small dinner menu sign that read:

    Today’s Special Dish


    21 y. o.

    She was definitely a dish in more ways than one.


    He wondered what ill will had landed such a gorgeous girl in such an unfortunate fate—but Henrik couldn’t help silently thanking her ill-tempered master, as he watched her prancing nervously inside the display case. She was far more appealing to look at than most food slaves; heck, she was more appealing than most sex slaves. The tracking tag on her large nipple ring said, ‘127’. It bounced against her torso as she moved, but being made of a paper (no matter how durable) it wasn’t heavy enough to weigh her breast down.


    Having worked in so many kitchens, Henrik knew that the back wall of the bell jar would contain an access panel, but (as usual) it was covered by a red curtain, that didn’t quite match the red of her bikini bottom and sandals. This was done to maintain a relative illusion of willing freedom. Most customers preferred to think that the girls weren’t being forced to stand there against their will, and perhaps there were a few who actually weren’t. This girl was well trained, but her slightly forced smile clearly suggested that she was either nervous or not entirely willing.

    Marta, the restaurant serving girl, who’d greeted him at the door, walked over and pressed a button on a wall panel by the girl’s glass prison. “Julia, darling,” she said in a slightly peeved tone of voice, “Can you please turn around, like we discussed? Give these gentlemen a proper showing of their dinner menu, just like you’ve been trained to do.”


    After a slightly longer pause than was seemly for any kind of slave, but particularly a food slave, Julia closed her eyes in a way that suggested the act was distasteful.

    “Please excuse Julia, she’s new and not fully trained yet,” Marta said loudly as she continued to hold the intercom button down. “I assure you, she’ll be punished severely for this.”

    Julia could obviously heard Marta but aside from a slight twitch as she turned there was little indication of how this made her feel. She simply turned around and stuck out her ass as if she knew just how to present herself for the best effect. She may not like the idea of strangers eating her flesh, Henrik thought, but either she’s a natural exhibitionist or she’s had some modeling training somewhere along the line.

    That made him wonder, once again, just how she’d come to this place in her life.

    “Well?” Jerome asked as he walked up beside Henrik and clapped him on the back. “Is she everything I promised you or not?”

    “She’s very nice,” Henrik agreed as he reached up to remove his Special Services military cap. Being a food critic was only his night job. It didn’t pay enough to support his new lifestyle just yet, although it had long ago begun to provide better perks than his military job. He hadn’t ever thought he’d be able to say that about anything—since he worked all day with slaves who’d transferred their service to the military for a set number of months or years in exchange for buying out their slave contract and freedom at the end of their enlistment.

    “And did you read the sign,” Jerome asked.

    Henrik looked at the menu board again. Below the lines he’d already read, it said:

    Brilliantly as a beer

    snacks for a big

    company of friends

    P.S. and don’t forget to fuck her before


    Now that was a nice touch, Henrik thought. Usually the customers didn’t get to play with their food, unless the restaurant specialized in that—since it required them to carry an additional sex permit as well as paying the food tax. In addition, Many Dolcett Diners were put off by the thought of playing with their food. Some didn’t even like to think about their dishes not being volunteers, let alone the notion that they might feel pain. For Henrik, however, playing with his food was half the fun of being a chef. In fact, he’d played with his food ever since he was a kid. He used to have his mother cook his eggs sunny side up because he liked to imagine that it was a food slave. Slowly he would slice away the egg white, trying not to break the yolk. The yellow was blood, in his mind, and if it ran it meant he’d nicked an artery and his slave was bleeding out.

    “Will she do?” Marta asked. “Or would you like to see another?”

    Henrik nodded. “I think she’ll do,’ he said with a broad smile.

    “Excellent!” Marta gestured to a door on the far wall. “If you’d like, you can go through that door, into the kitchen, and get ready to begin work on her. I’ll get her ready for you and bring her around.”


    Henrik did as she said, going into the kitchen, which was done in sparkling white tile that was very clean. There was a little alcove that served as the chef’s changing room—complete with a shower, for after. He went inside and began removing his clothes. There were other options: rubber aprons (for covering one’s street clothes) or rubberized chef’s clothes (that looked a lot like nurse blues) but Henrik liked to work naked. Not only did it make washing up afterwards much easier but it also made any sudden impulses he might have while working easier to satisfy—and it usually seemed to put the slaves in a more desirable frame of mind as well.


    By the time he’d gotten comfortable and taken a few moments to look around the kitchen, familiarizing him self with the available equipment, Marta was bringing Julia into the preparation area. The girl’s hands were cuffed behind her back. Was that more indication that she was new and unwilling? Or had Jerome told them how he liked his slaves to be delivered.

    Marta held one of the girl’s forearms while pushing her along with the other hand at the back of her shoulder.

    “Very nice, thank you.” Henrik said.

    “Would you like me to say and assist?” Marta asked.

    “No, I prefer to work alone.”

    Marta nodded. “Very well. I’ll leave the two of you alone, then. Feel free to do anything to her that’s legal. Physically, she’s a virgin…”

    “You mean she’s never been harvested?” Henrik said, his interest perking up. He liked working on food-virgins.

    “Actually I meant that literally,” Marta said with an apologetic nod. “When Jerome mentioned your fascination with virgins we took the liberty of programming the ReGenie to repair her hymen during her last restoration. But she is relatively new as a food slave as well… which, I’m sorry to say, is why she’s not trained very well yet. She’s only been harvested twice, I think.”


    “Close enough, I suppose,” Henrik said with a disappointed, but dismissive wave. It wasn’t often you came across a true food virgin—although many restaurants felt the urge to make that claim.

    As Marta was leaving, Henrik turned to Julia . “Come here,” he said. “Turn around and face the wall while I check to see if you’ve been properly cleaned out. I don’t want my dick to stink because you have a dirty bottom.”

    “I don’t have a dirty bottom,” Julia said peevishly, “they’ve been flushing me out for the last twenty-five minutes.”

    “Something tells me that you might be such a prissy-ass, cock teasing princess that you think your shit don’t stink,” Henrik said as he tugged on the tracking tag that ringed her nipple. Taking hold of the chain between her cuffs, he forcibly spun her around so she was facing the wall. She leaned forward slightly so her forehead was almost touching the cold block as he knelt down behind her and began to work his fingers between the cheeks of her ass. “If you don’t mind,” he said, “I’ll just have a look see myself.”

    At least she knows enough to spread her legs and stick her ass out, he thought with just a hint of disappointment. He enjoyed it more when the food didn’t know what to expect—he even liked it when they struggled a little. Presenting her ass made it easier for him to gain access to her, but it also saved her some discomfort as his fingers slid inside her. He remedied that by stuffing a couple extra fingers in and working them around more vigorously than he needed to.


    “Ow!” she complained. “Your fingers are rough?”

    “That’s the point,” he said with a smile, as he continued to work her with his fingers. “I like a girl with a tight ass, and this usually makes things a little less comfortable for you when my cock slides in. It should make your sphincter muscles tighten up, just the way I like.”

    Henrik was ambidextrous, so without removing his fingers or even slowing his pace, he reached up with his left hand and turned the key in the handcuffs. Marta had left the key in so he’d have easy access when he wanted to remove them. A food slave like Julia knew better than to try anything. For one thing, there was nowhere to run—and for another, it would only add time to her sentence, whatever that was.

    “Now,” Henrik said, as he stood up behind her. “I want you to spread your legs and rise up on the tips of your toes.”

    Julia spread her legs slightly and made a half-hearted attempt to rise up on the balls of her feet, so Henrik grabbed her around the throat from behind, lifting her (none to gently) as he pulled her back against his body. His erect cock bounced up and down between her legs as he kicked her feet wider apart; forcing her up onto the very tips of her sandaled toes to keep his grip around her neck from strangling her.


    “The reason you spread your legs,” Henrik hissed in her ear, “is so your legs don’t interfere with mine when I’m positioning for my thrust. And the reason you rise up on your toes is so I don’t have to bend my knees. I shouldn’t have to lower myself to gain access to your holes. Understand, slave?”

    He was gripping her neck too firmly for her to speak clearly, but she managed a slight nod, so he let go of her and spoke more gently as he held her lightly by her left arm. “Lean forward a little,” he said as he guided her with a hand on her elbow. “Now slide yourself right back on me. Yeah, that’s it,” he said as he sank just the head of his cock between her pussy lips. Then he took hold of her by the wrists.

    “What are you doing?” Julia asked as she tried to look over her shoulder.


    “That’s none of your damned business,” he said as he yanked back on her arms and rocked his hips forward at the same time. She gasped as his large cock sank into her, all the way up to his balls with one sharp thrust.

    “Damned girl,” he said as he worked himself back and forth in her a few times, using her arms to control her. She was already moaning. “You’re not tight enough. You’re as loose as a fucking brothel whore. I thought you were supposed to be a virgin.”

    “Ow,” she groaned, although her cunt muscles barely clenched despite her protests.

    “You’re a worthless fuck,” he growled.

    This girl might be one of the cutest women he’d ever seen in his life, but she clearly didn’t know how to be fucked worth a damn. She’d need a lot of training to make her worth anything as a sex slave—which just might explain why she’d ended up working this hole-in-a-wall restaurant. It didn’t matter how pretty you were if you were a poor fuck. Perhaps her previous owner hadn’t had the necessary patience to train her.


    “Maybe it’s you,” she said with a soft moan.

    “My, my,” Henrik said with a smile. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you, girl. Hasn’t anyone told you, how dangerous a trait that is for a slave?”

    “Sorry,” she muttered.

    “Not yet,” Henrik said, “but you will be. Now get on the floor, and let me give you a little instruction on how it’s done.”

    “I said I was sorry,” Julia squeaked.

    “If I had a few weeks, I’d train you up right,” he said, still not feeling mollified. “So you’ll just have to trust me: I’ve fucked enough women to know that it’s definitely not me.”

    As he said this he let her wrists go and, because she was leaning forward, she began to topple like a felled tree. It wasn’t fast enough for Henrik though; he gave her a firm shove in the back so that she wouldn’t have a chance to catch her balance or move to her knees in a gentler transition. She braced herself with her hands and tried to roll over, but almost as soon as she landed, he was on top of her, pinning her belly to the cold tile floor.

    “Lie still, fuck slut.” He said, as he wedged his cock between the cheeks of her ass without using his hands, so that he could brace his weight above her with one hand and pull her head back by the hair with the other. “Maybe your ass won’t feel like such a wet bag.”


    It took him quite a while to build up a head of steam, but he’d been right. Her ass did feel much tighter. Her cunt probably wasn’t really all that bad either, but he liked to fuck slaves who were really tight—and that usually required a young virgin or a slave who’d been trained to use muscles that most women didn’t know they had. Pushing into a woman’s ass, however, while the cheeks of her ass were being pressed together by his weight usually did the trick.


    He could feel himself getting close, but he didn’t want to cum inside her rectum; so he rose up and stood over her as she sprawled on the floor.

    “Surely you’re not worn out already, are you?” He asked as he nudged her leg with his foot. When she rolled over and looked up at him there were tears in her eyes.

    “What’s wrong with you,” he said angrily. “Now you’re acting like you’ve never been fucked before. Crying like that will give your client a complex, or something. Well, I can assure you that it doesn’t make him feel sorry for you—it only make him feel you don’t appreciate his attention.”

    “Sorry,’ she sniffed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

    “Didn’t mean it like what?” he snarled.

    “When I said, maybe it was you, I really didn’t mean to insult you.” She wiped her eyes, still without making any noise, as she rose to her knees and collected herself. “I just meant that maybe I was feeling so horny because of you.”


    “Oh,” Henrik said, feeling only slightly mollified. For one thing, he didn’t really believe her—although he had to admit she was a pretty good liar. “Perhaps I misjudged you then,” he admitted. “So, tell me, did you enjoy getting fucked in the ass?”

    She looked down sheepishly, as if embarrassed by the question. “I did.”

    “Yeah? Prove it. Play with yourself while I watch. I want to see how hot and bothered you are by having my cock up your ass. Huh? Does it turn you on to know that after I’m done fucking you I’m going to eat you?”


    “Yes,” she answered, as he reached up and gingerly pinched the nipple that didn’t have the tracking tag, in it. She tentatively pushed the fingers of her other hand down between her legs.

    “Ahhg… that’s pretty pathetic,” he muttered, but even so his cock started bobbing up and down slightly as he watched her. “Why don’t you get over here and show me your appreciation by taking care of this little guy, huh?”

    Again she was rather tentative as she slid across the floor on her knees. “You’re very large,” she said softly, her eyes transmitting a strange mix of longing and fear as she came closer. She flicked the tip of his cock with her tongue, the way some men liked—but all that pussyfooting around just wasn’t for him.

    “Everything you do is fucking timid,” he said as he curled his fingers around the back of her head and pushed the head of his cock into her mouth.

    She wasn’t much better at oral, barely using her lips or tongue; so it was quite obvious that she hadn’t been trained at deep-throating. This was not surprising, given that she wasn’t a sex slave. Her muscles tensed, trying to fight the urge to buck, as he pushed her head down even further. Now he could feel his glans pressing against the back of her throat. When she finally gave in to the urge to pull back, he pushed forward even further with his hips and continued to hold her head in place, with her chin pressing against his balls and her upper teeth using his pubic hairs as dental floss.

    She was making sweet little choking noises and he could feel her throat convulsed around his length as she tried to cough or swallow. “Oh yea,” he groaned with pleasure, “That’s definitely much better.”

    He kept holding her in place for a few more seconds before finally letting her surface for a comfortable breath. Just one, however and then he was shoving right back into her. Once again, she managed to hold mostly still for a few moments before convulsing and trying to pull back; and again, he refused to let her, pushing in as deep as he could. This time, after a few desperate attempts to get away from him, she actually stilled again. For a second he actually wondered if she’d lost consciousness, but then, as if she’d gained a second wind, she began to struggle again. Finally, he let go of her head.

    “If you don’t want me to go all the way down your throat again,” Henrik warned, “then you better start using your mouth, bitch. Suck on it; use your lips and your tongue. Don’t just sit there holding your mouth open like some gaping baby chick waiting for your mother to stick her beak down your throat.”

    Julia was obviously trying now, but her skills were rather poorly developed—so he pushed himself deep down her throat again, where trained or not, she was forced to do better work.

    “You can improve your sucking skills on your own time,” he said, “They’re not paying me to be your trainer.”

    Again, he pushed her head down—so far that her nose was crushed into his belly, just above his crotch, and again she began to buck, trying to pull away. That was unquestionably the part he liked best. It was almost better than orgasm; and he was getting very close to that as well.

    At the last moment he pulled out and took a step back, while she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.


    “Open your mouth and catch my seed,” he demanded, as his white sperm jettisoned out across her face. When he was finished he smiled at her disgrace and threw a towel at her. “Here,” he said, “wipe off your face. I don’t want you looking at me with cum all over your face while I put your shackles back on. You know,” he added as she rubbed the cloth over her eyes and face. “You might have gotten a little more in that mouth of yours if you hadn’t closed your eyes.”

    “Sorry,” she muttered again, as she handed the towel back to him.

    “A good slave doesn’t have reason to say she’s sorry as often as you do,” he said.

    He found a catch pan on a nearby table and positioned it between two rings on the floor. “Why don’t you stand up and spread your legs so you’re standing on either side of this pan?”

    She stood quickly to do as he’d asked.

    “No, no,” he scowled, “face me. I don’t need to see your back any more.”

    When she was standing where he wanted her he attached a manacle to one of her legs, stretching it out so he could bolt it to the floor with the wrench he’d found.

    “So tell me,” he said as he worked. “How is it that you became a food slave anyway?”

    “I guess you could say I volunteered,” she said.

    “What? Why would you go and do a plumb fool thing like that?”

    “Well, they told me the terms of service for a food slave was… considerably shorter than it is,” Julia said, “and during the interview, when they asked me if I’d ever tried to commit suicide or cut myself, I foolishly admitted that I had.”


    “So you’re one of those girls who like to cut on themselves?” He asked, looking up at her with a pleased smile.

    “I don’t know why,” she said. “I was only twelve or maybe thirteen, I think, when I started.”


    “I don’t know… there was just something about causing the physical pain that made the… the mental pain more bearable.”

    “Well then,” Henrik said, “You should have a real good time tonight.”

    Julia swallowed so hard that he could hear the crackle.

    “So… is getting cut on still as much fun as you thought it would be?”

    “I’m not sure calling it fun was ever the right word. It hurts and I don’t particularly like pain but… it’s better than the alternative.”

    “What? Did your daddy abuse you as a child?”

    Julia frowned. “I’d rather not say if you don’t mind.”

    “It doesn’t bother me,” Henrik said as he shook his head. “I just don’t get it, that’s all. Why would you volunteer as a food slave if you don’t like the pain?”


    “Honestly, I didn’t realize it would happen to me more than once. I thought I’d be cut up and eaten and that would be the end of it. All my suffering would be over.”

    “Hum,” Henrik said with a curious raise of his brow. “Guess you were pretty surprised that first time they sent you to the ReGenie.”

    “I was …disappointed when I woke up.”

    “Well,” Henrik said, “we know you need lots of practice fucking, so I’m going to do you a little favor before I begin the harvest. I’m going to fuck you with my other tool.”

    “You’re other…”

    “Should have done this before I fucked you myself,” Henrik said as he held up the wrench he’d just been using to tighten the bolts that held her chains. “Closed or open end?”

    “Whichever you decide,” Julia said, with a worried expression.

    “Good answer,” he said.

    “Thank you sir.”

    “As your reward for being such a good slave, I think we’ll do both.”

    Julia’s eyes grew very wide. “You wouldn’t really do that, would you?”

    Henrik chuckled, “I’ll start with the round end on your front.”

    “But that will leave…”

    “We’ll see if you still want to thank me,” he said with a smirk, “When I finish with that cute little ass of yours.

    Wisely, she didn’t answer, but she couldn’t suppress that look of fear—and it was precious. He wanted to see more of. Even when he’d been insulting her about being such a bad fuck, she’d remained far too calm for his liking. He wanted to rattle her a bit; he wanted to shatter that cool and collected demeanor of hers.

    She winced a bit as he worked the wrench none-to-gently inside her.

    “I should have done this first,” he said again when he saw how her pussy lips convulsed around the cold steel. “Maybe you’d have been a better fuck if your ass and pussy had been as sore as hell.”

    “I’m sorry I displeased you,” Julia said in a tight, pained voice.

    After a few more moments of working on her, her muscles began to relax a little and Henrik grew bored with her front.

    “Oh God, please don’t,” she said as he reached around with the wrench and began rubbing the open end up and down between the crack of her ass.


    “I’m going to have a little pre-sample of my dinner,” Henrik said as he took her nipple in his mouth. “If you make any noise, the wrench goes in,” he mumbled just before he bit down. He didn’t bit hard enough to break the skin, but it was definitely hard enough to make her want to wince and moan, especially when he began to grind his teeth a little.

    He stood up after several minutes of that failed to make her cry out. “Very good,” he said. “You may not know how to fuck, but at least you know how to keep quiet.”


    “I’ve had a lot of practice,” she said with a sigh of relief.

    Henrik walked over to the supply cart Marta had provided for him and began to look over what was available. “I’ve been generous enough to let you have some fun,” he said as I picked up the largest pair of butcher knives he could find. “Now it’s time to have mine.” He began to slide the blades back and forth over each other as he walked back towards her. “This is the portion of the evening’s meal that you’re not going to enjoy quite so much.”

    “What about the anesthesia?” Julia asked with a worried expression.

    “Anesthesia?” he asked with an intentionally puzzled expression as he continued to let the knives sing, rubbing them back and forth. “Why would a girl who cuts herself need any anesthesia?”


    “The slave laws say you have to,” she said. “You have to give me a shot of anesthesia to numb the parts you’re going to cut, so they don’t hurt as much.”

    “Oh, come now,” Henrik said with a knowing smirk, “I’ll bet they’ve already given you that shot, haven’t they. You’re just some kind of junkie, hoping for a double score? Another little jolt before we start.”

    “No,” Julia said, “I swear haven’t had anything yet. All they’ve given me is the hyper-coagulant, so I don’t bleed to death.”

    “Now that’s a shame,” he said. “I thought you were hoping you’d be one-and-done.”

    “Please, sir… you have to give me the shot!”

    “You’re a rather insolent slave, aren’t you,” Henrik said with a smile as he walked back to the supply cart and picked up a hypodermic needle. “Fine,” he said as he walked back over to her. “So… which body part would you like to loose first? Should I start with a juicy little cunt steak? Or maybe a savory tit fillet.”

    “I’m sure whichever you chose will be fine,” she said.

    “Ah… so now you want to play the docile slave?”

    “I’m sorry sir, it’s just that… I’ve come to fear the pain.”

    “Already?” Henrik said in surprise. “So I suppose there will be no more cutting yourself when you’ve earned your release?”

    “I don’t know,” she said, “cutting myself is one thing, but letting someone else do it is completely different. I don’t particularly like that. I don’t control it and I can’t stop when I’ve had enough.”

    “I’m glad to hear that your therapy is working,” Henrik said with a chuckle. Perhaps in a few years, when you’re released, you’ll be totally cured.”


    “I hope so, sir.”

    “Very well, let’s start by numbing up that breast.”

    “Thank you sir.”

    Henrik placed the tip of the needle against her nipple and began to push very slowly.

    “Ow! What are you doing?” She cried.

    “Inserting the needle,” he said.

    Julia tried to suppress a scream as he began to depress the plunger, still slowly pushing the needle in deeper.

    “Like I said, this is the part of the evening’s preparation that is all about me. And what I like to do is cause my food as much pain as possible. So I’ll give you the shots that are legally required by law, but I don’t have to make them painless.”

    “Ow, OW! Please, stop, please!”

    “Quit complaining,” Henrik said, “Nothing in the laws says I can’t stick you a few more times when the needle is empty, just for the fun of it.”

    Julia gritted her teeth and closed her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks. When the needle was completely empty, Henrik pinched her nipple, crushing her flesh against the metal needle that was buried in the middle. When she still didn’t cry out, he kept pinching harder and harder until she finally did.

    “Please, that hurts!”

    He grinned. “What did I tell you about complaining?” Henrik asked with a smile.

    She didn’t answer, but he released her nipple. Instead, he gud the tips of his fingers into the sides of her breast and gave it a few tugs; the needle bounced up and down now that he was no longer holding it.

    “I haven’t decided which part of you I want to eat,” he said thoughtfully, as he finally pulled the needle out. He reached for another. “So I guess I better give you another shot, until I decide.”

    He cupped his meaty hand over her pubic mound and slapped several times, making each slap a little harder than the last. “I’ll bet your pussy would make a lot better stake than it did a fuck… It should be nice and tender after the fucking I gave you with the wrench.”

    Julia didn’t say anything, she just closed her eyes and tried to prepare herself for the pain.

    “What?” Henrik asked in mock surprise. “Don’t you have any thoughts on the subject?” He stopped slapping and pushed his finger inside her. “You’re wet,” he observed. “You must be enjoying this on some level.”

    “If you say so, sir.”

    “I think you like the pain. That’s really what the cutting was all about, wasn’t it?”

    “I don’t think so, sir.”

    “Your clit would seem to disagree.” He said. “It looks all swollen and eager for more abuse. Maybe we should see how it likes the same treatment I gave your breast.”

    Julia gasped in a little breath of air, but she managed to stifle the words that had almost come out.

    “You did better this time,” Henrik said, jabbing the needle into her pubic mound. “I’ll spare your little clit so we can get right to the cutting. Are you ready, bitch?”

    Julia shook her head a little. “I don’t think the anesthesia has kicked in just yet… couldn’t you please just wait another minute or two?”

    “Afraid not. The next few minutes will just have to be unpleasant for you.”

    Julia’s expression darkened a little, but she stifled whatever thoughts were going through her head and simply said, “Yes sir. I guess I’m ready then.”


    “So which should it be?” Henrik asked. He’d picked up the butcher knives, and he pressed one of them between her legs, letting the flat part of the metal press up between her pussy lips. “Should I cut out your twat, or should I harvest your breast?” He raised the knife and pricked it against the flesh of her nipple. “Choices, choices!” He said. “Are you sure you don’t have any thoughts on the subject?”

    “No sir.”

    “Then perhaps I’ll wait and let you think about it.”

    “Thank you sir. It shouldn’t take long for the anesthesia to begin working.”

    “I’m sure you’re right,” he said as he knelt in front of her and placed the blade against her left leg. “In the meantime, I think I’ll just practice my skinning skills.”

    “No, no, no! What are you doing?” she cried out in alarm. “You can’t cut down there, yet.”

    “Oh? Why ever not, my little feast? Please explain the finer points of cuisine law to me.”

    “The anesthesia works quickly to numb local body parts,” Julia said. “But it will take nearly a half hour before it numbs my whole body.”

    “Yes,” Henrik said with a chuckle. “That’s why I’m going to skin you now, while you can still feel it. But don’t feel bad, even if I waited you’d still feel every cut. The anesthesia I gave you was purely local. It won’t do anything to deaden the pain in other parts of your body.”

    “But you can’t do that! It’s not legal!”

    “I’m getting tired of you telling me what I can and can’t do,” Henrik growled, “I gave you the shots required by laws, right in the parts of the body I plan to eat. I have complied with the law, and now I intend to continue having my fun.”

    “How can you think its fun to skin someone alive?”

    “It’s better than serving your time in the display freezer, I think. At least this way you can do your time in the ReGenie and be healed when I’m done with you.”

    “So some other diner can do it all over again?”

    “That’s the whole point of being a food slave. Now, quit talking so I can concentrate on this. If I knick the wrong artery, even the hyper-coagulant won’t keep you from bleeding out in less than four minutes. ”

    Julia groaned as Henrik worked.

    After slicing a circle around her thigh just above the knee, he carefully sliced a vertical red line down to just above her ankle and made another radial line there, a few inches above the metal cuff. He always left skin under the cuffs, so the metal wouldn’t grate on raw meat. Then, with a rapid strokes, he began to carefully slice away the connecting tissue that held skin to muscle. He started at the top, working down along the thin vertical cut until he had a bit of a flap that he could pull away from her body. This stretched out the connecting tissues and made them easier to cut through without the risk of slicing into muscle or cutting a vein. Around the knee, the red muscle turned to white bone, cartilage and tendons.

    It was a beautiful sight, and he stood back to admire his own handiwork—soaking in the pained sound of her labored breathing.

    When he was much younger, Henrik worked for a time as an amp-doc, cutting off slave limbs for their owners; and sometimes he missed the ruthless vigor of that work. It didn’t require the more delicate control of skinning his meal alive. It was just hacking into flesh and bone before cauterizing the wound—and most important of all, it didn’t have to be done under general anesthesia, since there were fewer regulations governing that sort of work.

    Still, there was an artistry to this sort of work that not everyone could do—like being a brain surgeon. Only he was a body surgeon... No, a skin surgeon. Yeah that’s what he was: a Doctor of Epidermis; a flayer of flesh, a peeler of pelts.

    He wondered if the restaurant had an avenue for selling human skin, or whether they would allow him to take this girl’s skin home with him.

    Wrapping his hand around her neck, he considered the next place to cut. He liked to take the skin off in nice square patches. The only question was whether to start cutting above the shoulder or under it. After a little debate, Henrik decided to start by slicing a line down the center of her body, from her sternum to her pubic mound—then working his way out. Quickly and efficiently, he peeled the skin back, slicing through the connecting tissue. The super-coagulent not only kept her from bleeding to death, but made it easier for him to see what he was doing while he worked. Still, he found it necessary to use a small bottle of water to wash the blood away from time to time as he worked.

    He cut all the way down to the part of her leg that he’d already skinned, leaving a small band of intact flesh. At the top, he cut a line near her collar bone, so that he could take the skin on her shoulder—leaving another little band around her arm and passing over her deltoid muscle. As he removed this part of the skin, he smiled at the perfection of his work. The one hole in her skin was intentional, for he’d cut a small circle around her nipple, leaving the aureole in tact. He couldn’t say why, exactly, but he liked to leave the nipple for last.

    “I should think your breast out to be just about numb by now,” Henrik said when he’d completely skinned her left half, including the breast he’d given the shot to. He was a little surprised when Julia didn’t say anything, but perhaps she was too busy sucking air through her teeth. It made just about the prettiest sound he’d ever heard.

    “What?” He said with a chuckle, “No more lectures on the law, little half-blood?”

    She shook her head but still didn’t say anything.

    “Fine, then I’ll harvest my dinner before I even you up on the other side.”

    He placed the knife against her right breast, the one that he hadn’t given the shot and began to cut it off.

    “You’re cutting off the wrong breast,” She gasped.

    Henrik just chuckled. “Am I?” he said, pushing the dangling flesh of her breast against her chest and pushing as he held the knife to her throat. “Since you’re such an expert on the law, you should know that it doesn’t specify that I have to cut off the same part of your body that I inject with anesthesia. Which means that this is exactly the part I want to eat.”

    He grabbed her breast like a teenage boy fondling his first boob and gave it a squeeze as he pulled it way from his chest again, so he could finish cutting.


    About ten minutes later, Henrik had at last finished his work. Julia stood before him, completely skinned, except for the flesh on her hands and feet. She was still wearing her high heels, which he thought was a particularly nice touch.

    Even her head had been scraped down to flesh and bone—all except the skin on her ears, lips and the tip of her nose. Even the skin on her eyelids had been removed.

    “I warned you not to loose your head,” Henrik said with a grin as he dropped the last piece of her hide onto the tray between her legs. “Tell me,” he said, “What does it feel like to be skinless, Julia.”

    “Maybe you’ll find out one of these days,” she hissed between clenched teeth.

    “Now, now, don’t be testy,” he warned. “I still control what happens to you for the next few moments. And, in case you hadn’t noticed, salt is one of the seasonings that happens to be on my prep-table. Ever get salt in a wound?”

    “You wou…” She stopped before saying it.

    “You’re learning,” Henrik said, pressing his finger gently against her lips. “Now… you were about to describe what it feels like to be skinless.”

    “It stings.” Julia said, “It feels like when your foot falls asleep and the pins and needles come when it starts to wake up, only…”


    “...only each needle is much smaller and there are infinitely more. And they cover my whole body.”

    “Does it hurt everywhere… at once?”

    “Yes, but…”

    He waited.

    “The pain dominates… in certain areas… for a time. Whatever I’m thinking about… it hurts… The pain becomes… almost unbearable… until I think about another spot.”

    “Then the pain moves to that new location,” he guessed.


    Henrik smiled. “Thank you,” he said, “You have made me a very happy customer. I will be sure to commend you to Marta, when I’m done eating my dinner.”

    “Thank you, sir,” Julia managed to say. It was obvious she didn’t really mean it. It was an automatic, conditioned response—like thanking a police officer for giving you a ticket, but still, it made Henrik feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

    “Right then, as soon as I’m done eating, I’ll tell Marta you’re ready for the ReGenie.”

    “But sir…” Again, she swallowed the rest of her protest.

    “Don’t worry, my little red. It won’t take me more than forty-five minutes or so to eat my meal. That should be plenty of time for you to enjoy the sting.”
    Last edited: Apr 6, 2018