(note: this is not mine. Dorothy sent it to me to preview and post.)
Penny felt a full rush of excitement run through her at the sight of the transparent construct so elegantly positioned on its plinth, the focal point of the casino lobby. It looked to the entire world like an original work of art, the smooth curves of its shell lacking only its intended complement of female concupiscence. It beckoned her like an enthusiastic puppy impatient to demonstrate its favorite trick.
Her eye flicked across to the girl being set in place on one of several barbecue pits that followed the curve of the lobby wall, who was still wriggling animatedly on a thick, pink-tinted crystal spit. It was hard at first to reconcile the innocent beauty of the artifact with a function so blatantly cruel, and yet so necessary. A girl needed to know that her needs would be met, and there was no greater need, when the time came, than to surrender to the spit. Her heart pounded as her feet brought her closer to the steps leading up to the plinth.
All around her punters continued to feed coins into the slots, and the quietness of her thoughts was drowned by the chinking, whirring hubbub. She smiled at their feverish preoccupation with feeding that insatiable mechanical appetite. A girl's beauty and flavor were made to satisfy the more discerning human tastes. But around the central plinth were the tables favored by high rollers, whose bets reached untold heights of absurdity while their focus was drawn, from time to time, to the periodical spectacle of beauty pleasured then mounted on crystal.
Almost unnoticed at the foot of the steps, she dropped her scant hostess costume and heels into the receptacle provided, released her bikini top to free the firm thrust of her gorgeous breasts, then pulled the bows to release the bottom. She stood proudly and turned to reveal the smooth shaved crevice of her mound and her pride, the pretty pink crystal ring through one temptingly plump pussy lip.
Turning again, she stepped eagerly up onto the plinth, drawing a hundred pairs of eyes from around the room to her beauty.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Penny, who will now take her turn on our unique, extraordinary display machine, Crystal Jack!"
Loud applause followed as Penny stepped up to the machine. It was obvious how to mount it. She trembled, suddenly conscious of the finality of the moment.
The grooves for her lower legs were strangely high, a foot above the level of the plinth, with padded grips that fitted snugly against her ankles. She clambered up and knelt in the grooves, feeling the grips tightening to hold her ankles.
"Oooooooooh!" She gasped. Her knees dropped rapidly towards the floor as the grooves swiveled down from her ankles, opening her knees wide, pressing her ankles closer behind her thighs. The movement threw her body forward onto the construct. Her shoulders slipped under curved wings of the resilient, transparent plastic, her breasts hung on either side of the central support molded to the form of her body. Padded grips tightened to hold her neck firmly down with her chin tipped up. Her arms hung in grooved transparent channels, her wrists held by more of those comfortable grips. Her hands closed over what felt like handles and she gripped them tightly, feeling them move rather like joysticks.
Penny wriggled experimentally, but to no avail. She was now solidly locked in position, but it was not uncomfortable. On the contrary, the smooth transparent plastic felt warm and comfortable, its resilience molding itself to her body. There was no need for clamps over her knees. Even without the firm pressure of the grips at her ankles, neck and wrists she doubted if she could have freed herself, with her legs bent back in a vee like that. Any muscular effort would have merely pressed her more firmly into position. She was utterly in the power of the machine.
Strangely, the fact of being secure and helpless excited her. There was no escape from her fate, a fate she had dreamed of ever since her earliest memories. It was time to be spitted, time for her spitted, wriggling body to be roasted over the heat of a barbecue pit, time for her delicious, roasted flesh to be enjoyed, but too late now for misgivings or regrets. This was an experience to be enjoyed to the full.
She was glad that the smooth softness of her skin, the perfection of her beauty would not be violated by the crude painful work of the gutting knife or saw. Her destiny was to enjoy the feel of the spit and the searing heat of the roasting pit, and every sensation of that mysterious, long dreamed of transition into meat. After a few days on the popular FibreFloss-diet, every part of her was edible.
"Ooooooh!" She gasped again as the smooth rounded tip of a vibrating prong slid between her lips and teased the sensitive core of her pleasure. She guided it with the joysticks, up and down and then a little deeper, teasing her lips and pressing into the quivering, well-muscled opening of her vulva. She adjusted the vibration too until it was almost more than she could stand. The waves of sensation flowed out from her core and then back, rippling, pulsing powerfully until the hot sweet sensation exploded through her body.
"Aaaaaaah! Yes! Oooooh!" She cried, oblivious to the applause of the spectators, responding to the stimulation so delicately adjusted by her own eager hands.
Her cunt tingled as the long slender probe parted the well toned muscular opening of her vulva and slid deep into her vagina. She clenched her muscles and gripped it tightly, enjoying the sensation. It was extraordinary how those muscles had responded to the weeks and months of conditioning with EZ-Glide. She knew that it had developed from a simple spit lube, to a product that had revolutionized the yield and quality of a girl's most precious asset, her fillet. By stimulating the development of muscle in that delicate area, and then improving its tone, it made every girl as special during sex as a highly trained oriental professional. It gave her the ability to squeeze, ripple and ultimately milk a man of his come, while at the same time his presence inside her was unimaginably stimulating, almost as incredible as the powerfully enhanced sensation of actually being spitted.
Tiny pads covered in something like velvet found her nipples. It was delicious really, delicate, like being teased with a soft brush. She adjusted the pads until they were perfectly centered on her nipples, feeling the tremors of another orgasm growing fast as the probe continued to tease the lips of her vulva, occasionally arousing flashes of pleasure as it rippled close to her delicately aroused clitoris.
"Ah! Ah! No!" Frantically she worked the controls as rippling tendrils penetrated every fold and crevice of her tingling lips, already slippery with the juices of her arousal. Seconds later she convulsed again in another searing orgasm, helplessly at the mercy of the powerful stimulation.
Something was happening at her nipples. Some kind of manipulation. Something bit in to the base of her left nipple, and then she felt a painful prick. Then this was repeated with her right nipple. The needles pressed deep into her breasts as she squirmed uselessly. They always injected your breasts before they roasted you. That was basic education. But somehow the thought of it actually happening had slipped her mind. When it happened it made you feel close to being meat. It was one of the last things they did before they spitted you. Everybody knew that. But it was undignified and uncomfortable, like the gutting they used to do long ago.
She gasped at the unmistakable touch of the spit against her vulva lips. The tip was cool, smooth and hard. With the controls she moved it gently into the perfect position to enter her. Slowly but remorselessly it opened her, its pressure so hard and its progress so unthinkably relentless that her most desperate, instinctive resistance made absolutely no difference to its progress at all. She was merely a soft yielding presence around the thick, smooth crystal of the moving shaft.
She shivered with excitement as she felt the spit moving steadily up through her body, the shaft sliding deliciously through her well lubricated vulva, stretching the elastic walls of her cunt. It opened her cervix and pierced the wall of her womb and then it began to rotate as it progressed deeper into her, its off-centre tip finding its way easily between the slippery coils of her intestines as it moved closer to her stomach. Her cunt tingled fiercely as she gripped the shaft, enjoying the sensation of its movement. This was better than anything she had imagined.
Those incredible tendrils were back, teasing the flesh stretched taut around the shaft of her spit, mercilessly enveloping her clitoris in sensation until pleasure exploded through her again, distracting her from the cool sensation of liquid flowing from those needles through her nipples into her breasts. It was sensory overload. It was too much, all at once, but maybe that was merciful, and exactly as it should be. The relentless stimulation did not ease until pleasure once more convulsed her as the injectors were retracted from her sore, leaking nipples.
There was a quiet puffing sound as the spit penetrated her stomach, and then it stopped rotating again as it moved inexorably up through her esophagus. She felt it moving closer, closer to her throat and her final sigh was silenced as the spit emerged into her mouth, moving steadily forward until the shaft stretched her mouth wide, and filled her view. The clamps slowly raised her wrists and ankles into position while the banding secured her limbs to her body, and then released her.
She squirmed quietly on her spit, discovering the feel of it. This was her future. She was meat, ready to be roasted. Her sore, leaking nipples were proof enough of that. It was extraordinary. The spit immobilized you so you could not bend and you could barely twist, but incredibly it felt right. It belonged. There could be no other way to explain why a woman was so perfectly designed to take a spit right through her from one set of lips to the other, or why her meat was so delicious once it was roasted like that, or why every woman dreamed of being roasted on a spit. She was a perfect example of nature's bounty ready to be harvested.
Penny felt a bump as the spit moved her up to the conveyor that crossed high over the tables and machines before it dropped down into the cooking area. She didn't have long to wait before her spit was turning slowly over the searing heat of the flames, the chefs diligently basting her, while already there was a distinct, quite delicious aroma of roasting meat.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for your attention," she heard. "Please feel free to enjoy the complimentary barbecue. A fresh spit roast will be ready every hour, and of course, another of our delightful girls will give her own display on Crystal Jack every hour, every day. In the meantime, good luck to everyone!"
The Only Bad thing is: i havent got this set . -_- So i only have this pic.
