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I wondered how it was heated. His breath stunk. I also felt fingers and thumbs on my clitoris, and I guessed probably on Luke’s balls too. Each table had a number of well-dressed people at it – all ages, really. I lingered just a moment too long, and was forced back to face the front. You may, of course, come and inspect them. Each carried what looked like a cattle prod. The man who’d earlier fucked me over a table was now getting an eyeful of my glistening pussy as I lay bound, smeared in oil, on a table…in a kitchen…about to be roasted and eaten. This moved the shelf and us into the oven. Our guests like a bronzed rump. I winced but stayed put.
