Woodies First Dinner

I still remember the moment very clearly. We had just finished entertaining one of my boyfriends work mates (lets call him Bill) over a few beers and a game of the footy on the Tele. It had been a great afternoon, my fella has quite a few interesting friends, and I really liked this guy too. Actually, we’d gotten to know him very well ever since the day we had met, he was the guy who had arrested me the day 'I got burnt at the stake', and I always suspected that he was pretty well willing to try absurd or far out things. Little did I know then how far he would go to help a friend, or how well he would really get to know me.

Anyway we were saying goodbye to him, and he, (I suppose to be polite) asked, “Maybe I can have you over for dinner one day?” and, well it just came out- before I knew it I replied, “That would be great, but I don’t think I'd taste that good!”

Bill gave me a funny look, then laughed, “OH I don’t know, having you for dinner could be fun”, and then I caught his eyes flicking to my boyfriends, and a look, just a flash passed between them. I'd have ignored it, except it was the same look I saw pass between them the day he arrested me at the fair, and I knew where that had led!

I do believe that at times people can be psychic, more passed between us 3 in that second than a weeks conversation could convey. Suddenly I was embarrassed, don’t ask me why (just yet), “Oh go on,” I said, “get out of here!”

We went back inside, and I remember the silence as he turned the TV down. And then Kevin did something very different; he got up, and deliberately sat down beside me, took my shoulders, and stared straight into my face. His eyes were very blue, and they seemed to be trying to pierce my very soul. I remember too, that he was trembling ever so slightly.

“Woody, I want to say something, and I want you to listen very carefully.”

I think the world stopped right then.

“Woody, some people go through their entire lives with out ever fulfilling their deepest desires, no not some, nearly all do that. We spend our lives with our secret thoughts and fantasies, and we pretend that we are not jealous of the 10% of people we read or here about whom are living the life they want. And do you know why 90% of us are unhappy with our partners and ourselves because we are afraid to tell them what we really want. I don’t want us to be like that, you have been a fabulous sport about getting the stake, and you also were great at the haystack, but I sense that there is something more to you, something that wants to get out, and I want to know if I can help.”

The Genie.

He guessed about the Genie.

“Well I... ” I paused, how do you explain your genie, your childhood, teenage, adult dreams, the ones you KNOW will never see the light of day?

I compromised.

“Do you, or have you heard of Sushi girls?” I asked, hoping that this would kill this silly out of control conversation, because I didn’t like where it was heading, while the genie in me was screaming in my ear - tell him, tell him, OH please tell him!

“Yes.”

Silence.

He waited for me to speak, to articulate what I knew then, he knew I wanted to say.

If I had the courage.

“It's silly, and I’m ashamed, but, I'd like to be one of them one day, to have people use me as the dinner table, as a dinner setting.”

He smiled.

“Why be ashamed, why be embarrassed, some lucky girls get to play that role once in their lives because they expressed the desire, why not you?”

 “OH” good, a nice compromise.

“I can make it happen, if you want.”

A dozen butterflies take off in my stomach, but Genie groans in frustration.

“I know you can, and I'll let you one day” The butterflies are OK, that was close, I trust Kevin enough for that.

He goes to get up, then hesitates, then sits back down.

“There’s more though, isn’t there?”

“No.”

“Be brave woody, tell me, you don’t just want to be the dinner table, you want to be the dinner?”

And Genie cries VICTORY!

I can’t look at him, as I whisper, “Yes.”

He hugs me, a nice strong warm hug, “Woody, all you have to do is promise to trust me, to accept that I will never hurt you, and I can make it happen.”

I think I might have cried then, because how can you have some one for dinner, without hurting them? And how often in your life can you reveal something like that, and not have some one say “you sicko” I felt foolish. I felt stupid. Yet I have never felt as excited as that moment, a million butterflies in my stomach, a buzz somewhere else.

“Trust me Woody,” he smiled, stared at me, wiped my face, “I'll make you happy, now the day I say, ‘pink elephant’, that day I want you to forget who you are, and just go for the ride, this will be fun.”

“Ok, pink elephant”

And that was the last we mentioned it for a month.

* * *

It began innocently enough, “I’m going shopping, want to come?” and it being a boring Friday, I jumped into the car, never suspecting what would happen next. We drove for a while, and he made a call, short and cryptic, “On our way”. I didn’t think much of it, not even when we drove past our normal shopping centre, and finally pulled up at a strange butcher shop.

“They’ve got some fantastic meat deals in here, come in and see”

I followed him in, you know sausages aren’t really the biggest thing in the world to me, but he really seemed to be insisting, so I followed him in. When I got in, he was already in deep discussion with the Butcher. And that’s when the 1st butterfly took off in my stomach, the Butcher was Bill. There it was, that goofy grin, the same one I'd seen before I'd almost become witch kebab. “Come out the back Woody, there’s a special out here we want to show you”

I know I could have said no right then, and I know Kevin would have obeyed my wishes, but really was I going to hesitate. Somehow I knew this was it, and that it would be great, that I would have my trust rewarded, besides, I was just so damned curious about what he had planned, how could I refuse.

As I entered the back room, I noticed Bill lock the Butchery door.

“Pink Elephant”.

I stopped.

A Butcher shop backroom, a freezer, a half dozen large carcasses hanging from hooks from the roof. Sawdust on the cold cement floor. A big wooden table in the middle.

“Close your eyes”.

I did, and squadrons of butterflies took off, probably to escape the heat being generated a bit further below.

“Take of your clothes”.

Cold, goosebumps, heat, heat as well. 

Silence as I felt two leather bands being tightened around my wrists, firm and comfortable, and a rattle as a short chain joined them in front of me. A sound of tape coming off a roll, and now I couldn’t open my eyes even if I'd wanted to. My hands are lifted up, and I know that they are headed for a hook, soon I’m swinging on one, and toes just on the floor. The two guys say nothing during this, and then I sense that they leave the room, and I’m left hanging, alone in the dark, surrounded by other carcasses.

Now I’m no real fan of bondage games, bondage per see doesn’t turn me on, but I can appreciate what it does, it transports you to a place where you might not want to go, but where once you reach that place, you want to stay. It’s a tool. It says, trust. It says, I’m willing. It changes your perspective. It prepares.

So in silence I hung there, alone in the dark. It didn’t take long to think, “I’m meat, hanging in the shop, just dinner, waiting for the pot’.

“I’m waiting to be bought.”

I felt like I had no human value, meat hanging in a shop, yet I also felt the most valuable person in the world, because I had a man willing to go through all this effort for me. 

After just a short while I heard the guys enter again, I twisted, trying to show my displeasure at being treated this way, trying to not to show my excitement.

“And here is a fine roaster,” Boasted Bill in the dark, “ Taught, trim, not an ounce of fat, 58 kilos of fine fresh meat, just look at those legs!”

I felt a hand on my thigh, “Kevin” I thought. It ran slowly, firmly over my body, over my stomach, around my breasts. “ Ok?” he whispered. “Don’t speak, meat can't speak, just nod your head, yes or no.”

I nodded.

A shiver, a convulsion ran through me, as his hands continued to wander over me.

Bound, Blind, I could only respond, I tried to press against him, he moved away, but the hands continued to explore me everywhere.

“Yes, it is nice, I'll take it.”

I giggled what if he hadn’t taken me?

“OK” went Bill, and I could hear the laughter in his voice, “do you want me to dress her here, or will you do it at home?”

“Oh, home will do.”

“Alright, lets wrap her up for transport then.”

“Five bucks a kilo?”

“Yeah, that’ll do.”

Five bucks! gee, nice to have a value put on a girl, but just five bucks a kilo! Whatever happened, Kevin was going to have to learn the true value of a female!

I felt my legs being lifted, and for a moment I hung from the straps, and then I felt, what, yes it was plastic wrap winding around my feet. Not gladwrap, something stronger, pallet wrap. I felt Bill take my shoulders, holding me steady as Kevin began to tightly wrap my legs together. I knew then just how much he felt for me, the wrapping wasn’t rushed, it was slow, almost sensual, tight, a plastic hug, climbing slowly up my body, holding me tight. I was a product, an object. Lovingly purchased, carefully wrapped and packaged for transport to Heaven knows where.

I needed. Man, I needed to….

My arms are released from the hook, and my hands rest above my mound, I can’t resist, I want to touch.

The plastic continues, it squashes my arms, my breasts, Kevin’s strong arms engulf me, hold me, and manoeuvre me. I’m totally off balance, physically and emotionally.

I’m a product.

I’m meat.

I’m wanted.

I’m his, and I’m his and I’m his.

Discreetly a finger tries to go to work.

“Don’t stew too much darling” he whispers, amusement in his tone.

A moment of worry as the plastic covers my face, envelops my head, a finger at my mouth, a tearing, fresh air, and I feel a snorkel? Force its way pass my teeth. I breathe deeply, I’m trembling. Gently I’m laid down on the table, more wrapping, I’m sure I can hear butchers paper and tape being applied as I’m turned into Kevin's parcel.

Silence, just the sound of my breathing.

Laughter, and then I hear that familiar sound of a price sticker being peeled, and I feel it pressed onto my forehead.

“Lets see, 58 kilos, at 5 dollars a kilo.” A cash register rings. “ 290 bucks thanks.”

“ A bargain at half the price.”

“See you at dinner.”

“Can’t wait.”

See me at dinner! In my darkness I squirm, enough to be parcelled out in the presence of another man, but to see me as dinner! I had no doubt then that Kevin had planned it all, and to take it as far as he could. I weakly struggled, but couldn’t even bend or move a limb at all. I panted, and began to sweat in my plastic prison.

See you at dinner.

See you at dinner.

I was the dinner.

I think then I crossed over, something in my mind accepted my ‘fate”, and I relaxed, deeply and totally. A sense of freedom swept over me.

I would be dinner.

Fair enough. I don’t think I could have been more excited.

 

After a small interval I was suddenly picked up, and I knew I was being slung over Kevin’s shoulder, and was being carried out of the back of the shop, what if someone spotted us? I couldn’t bend, and felt wildly disorientated as my feet swung around in the air, my chest on his shoulder, his arms firmly gripping me. A car door. Gently I felt myself being slid onto a back seat, and then we were off, a man and his parcel.

Kevin didn’t say a word during the trip, I think I tried to grunt to him once, but it was all too much effort. The trip wasn’t long, soon I was being carried along into a new building, and with a sigh I felt myself being laid out onto another table. Something told me I was in a kitchen, the smell of roasting meat filled the air.

I lay there for ages in the dark as Kevin rattled pots and pans around me, occasionally I would try an experimental wriggle, but nothing gave, the plastic continued to grip me tightly. I heard oven door open and close, sounds of running water, the cutting of vegetables, all the sounds of a very, very busy cook. Kevin ignored me, but I didn’t mind I was right into playing my role.

Eventually though he turned to me, I felt myself being rolled onto my face, and felt scissors cutting me free, my body shivered as its sweat soaked skin became exposed to the air of the kitchen. I was glad to be rid of the snorkel, and his kiss was sweet upon my lips. I went to take of the blindfold, but gentle, yet firm hands stopped me. He carried me somewhere, and again my hands were attached to something above me.

He washed me, warm soapy water. No he scrubbed me, vigorously, all over, I squealed despite myself, the water felt wonderful, his hands felt wonderful. You can have a shower and think you are clean, make no doubt about it, Kevin was getting me clean, I knew I was going to be Pink and glowing after this scrubbing. I wanted to kiss him, grab him, climb all over him, but stuck as I was he easily avoided me, he whistled ironically, I knew he was enjoying himself.

When I was done, again he carried me to the table, and laid me out, hands above me, my whole body tingling.

“Time to prepare the main course.”

“Do you think she will taste nice?”

“Yes, now shhh, dinner doesn’t speak.”

He peeled off the blindfold.

I was, of course in a large kitchen; Kevin was even dressed as a cook. The first thing I saw was the ovens, 2 enormous commercial ovens, the racks of ribs roasting in one seemed lost in its cavernous interior, the other was empty. A shiver, tremor? I don’t know, can't describe what I felt then, went through me, I knew that sometime soon that I was going to go into that oven, I didn’t have a clue how Kevin was going to do it, but all that had gone before, the hanging alone with the carcasses, the parcelling, the washing, had prepared me mentally for what was next. I was ready, and willing.

Kevin loomed over me, a large bowl in his hand, he began to upend it over me, and a golden stream of oil, and what sure smelled like honey, and spices and God knows what poured onto my belly, and it was warm and felt divine. He began to, almost clinically, massage it into my skin. I love massage, and this became the massage of massages, as the minutes merged into the hour.  I drifted, content to be manipulated, turned, manipulated, and turned. Wonderful smell of oil, honey, spices and roasting ribs, baking vegetables filled the air.

“Secret ingredient”, a new oil, brown, of unknown character rubbed into my limbs.

I drifted, maybe even slept.

I only began to come back to the world when Kevin briefly left, and came back with arms straining, the baking dish. Huge, ceramic, and now I have to admit I began to feel nervous. It clattered as he placed it beside me. I was rolled again onto my belly

“You still ok?” he asked,  “ last chance to back out.”

I shook my head; I was a massaged bundle of female, too relaxed to resist.

Gently he removed the wrist cuffs, crossed my wrists and using wetted cord bound them firmly. Too late to back out now. My ankles were crossed, and bound as well, a strange feeling. He picks me up by my belly, I’m sure he can feel my heat, and gets me to kneel in this ridiculously large platter. Almost reverently he takes my hands and passes them down to my ankles, knees going wide, face falling onto the platter. I feel incredibly exposed; he binds my hands to my ankles.

Another string over my neck, complicated knots, and I’m held firmly head down. A rustle of aluminium, small cloth bags go over my feet and hands, forcing them into fists, aluminium foil covers them. I realise what is happening. “ I’m being dressed,” I think.

He lifts my head. More foil, around my head, covering my hair, my neck.

All this in total silence

We are both breathing hard.

Never in my entire life have I had so much attention lavished upon me. And it feels so good. Of course the inevitable happens, he presents the apple, small but sweet to my mouth. It has a small string passing though it. The final surrender. I open my mouth, and bite into its sweet flesh; he ties it in place. More brown syrup is poured over me, filling the pan, oozing into secret places. I grunt, more in surprise, as a carrot goes you know where.

Then the doorbell rang, and Kevin left me. I explored briefly my bonds, then relaxed, I asked for this, and it was happening. I wanted it now; I wanted and wanted it.

Dinner.

To be a dinner setting, to be dinner.

I was already half cooked.

 

I could hear Kevin’s friends laughing somewhere, the chink of glasses, scraping of tables and chairs, how many couples, 2, 3, I no longer cared. It all happened quickly, he re entered, opened the huge oven door holding the ribs, and pulled them out, setting them down beside me. Cooking meat smells filled the air, a waft of hot, hot air washed over me, with a grunt he picked me up, platter and all. I squealed, too hot! too hot, I knew I couldn’t go into that red hot cavern, and then with difficulty Kevin pushed me into the OTHER oven, and slammed the door. He tapped on the glass, “have fun “ he mouthed, then he turned to the meat and vegetables, preparing plates and the like.

How to describe the experience? Trussed and filled, in the oven, the smell of cooking filling my nostrils, the silence, broken only by the ovens fan. Before you call him a bastard, it wasn’t that hot, sauna temperature, maybe, but it did the trick. My fantasy was fulfilled, to be dinner.

I struggled to touch myself, but can't, the heat just builds, and builds, I sweat and moan.

He ignores me.

And I see right at my face a curious thing, the brown syrup suddenly seems to congeal, crack, and form like a skin, I feel it grip my body, Kevin had found a way to simulate a cooked lump of meat.

I’m dinner.

A bell chimes, I’m done. With a wicked smile Kevin opens the oven, a delightful gust of cool air, he pokes me, “ All done?’

I groan.

Yes, all done.

He pulls me out, I smell, well I can smell myself, heavenly odours of cooked meat and cooked girl.

He piles vegetables and the such around me, turns my head to one side, and then he took the racks of meat, cooling now but still warm to eat, and draped them over my body, the juices mingling with the secret syrup I was coated with. I enter some sort of mind space, a mental overload, it all seems a dream.

A flash. Photos, and then as I look to my left I can see my reflection in the stainless steel fittings.

It was very hard to tell where girl and cooked meat separated. More food is piled around me, potatoes, carrots, beans and all the trimmings, I must look ridiculous.

But I don’t feel it now. Just free.

Bill comes in, and together Kevin and Bill lift me up, and I am carried through the doors into the dining room.

Silence, then cheers and cries of amazement and I am placed into centre stage of a huge table, beautifully decorated, lit by dim candlelight. Four couples sat around the table, all friends of his, how had he organised this?

Dinner is served!

Fulfilment.

Total fulfilment.

A wild dream reality.

 

A pause as Kevin made a quick speech.

“To the courage of fulfilling a dream.”

“To courage!”

 

Kevin “carved me”, I could feel the knife slicing the ribs hanging off me, but I knew the illusion was working.

Laughter and exclamations and remarks flowed.

“Is she done?’

Laughter “ Oh yes, I think she is done to a tee.”

Dinner passed in a dream. Amazingly everyone seemed to accept my role, and soon I was just ignored, after all I was just the dinner, just the table decoration. Sushi girl supreme. Occasionally someone would poke me with a fork; it felt surreal being ‘carved’ with out actually being touched. The evening passed quickly, as I slowly cooled the clink of glasses and cutlery, the flicker of the candles, the drinking of wine.

But all dinners come to an end, “ A round of applause for our dinner.”

I wiggled my butt in acknowledgment.

I was pretty sore though by the time I was carried back to the kitchen. Unceremoniously I was placed on the table, overwhelmed by the experience I had just had.

Genie was happy.

Finally the guests departed, and Kevin returned.

He had that great smile on his face.

“Do you know what happens to the remains? To the left overs?’ he asked.

I moaned, I needed him.

“They go into the trash you know.”

“But I think you are too valuable for that.”

 Instead he really had me for desert instead.

 

28.04.06