"Good afternoon Mr. Smith, my name is Eve. Dmitri's been delayed but I'm sure he'll be here in just a few minutes."

Pausing to glance down at the paperwork I continued, "I see that you've decided to treat some of your closest friends to one of our exclusive hands on dinning packages. I can assure you that you and your friends will find this evening's meal to be a truly memorable dinning experience."

Arriving at last Dmitri explained, "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you arrived, my previous appointment ran late but I see that you've already met Eve."

Turning to Eve Dmitri reached for Mr. Smith's paperwork as he asked, "Eve, is everything ready?"

Unable to fully trust my voice I merely nodded.

Dmitri paused to briefly smile then said, "Good, would you please go down to the kitchens and inform the staff that Mr. Smith is here and they should start the final preparations. And tell them we'll be along in about 30 minutes, I just need to confirm the transfer of Mr. Smith's final payment."

Reaching the kitchen entrance Dmitri turned to his guest and explained, "As you might already know our organization started out here in Eastern Europe in the early 90's. We specialized in the fulfillment of our clients darkest most brutally sadistic desires. For the right price we'd gladly supply them with everything needed to experience their fantasies. A fully equipped torture chamber, the victim, and afterword clean up the mess. As for the victims, we've mostly relied on the kidnapping of unwary American tourists."

Laughing Dmitri added, "Did you know that Hollywood actually made a series of movies a few years ago that did a pretty good job of depicting our business. Their original script writer turned out to be one of our clients who'd failed to read all the fine print in the contract he'd signed with us. I can assure you that he found his next visit to our facilities far less amusing."

Pausing just outside the door Dmitri reached for the door activation switch as he added, "It's only been in the last few years that we've begun to receive requests like yours. Before then we'd never realized so many would show an interest in acts of Dolcett inspired ritualistic cannibalism."

The doors silently opened to reveal a scene directly out of the darkest images of Dolcett's artwork, a beautiful woman strapped helplessly upon a Jessica 3000 impalement machine. And more shocking, Mr. Smith recognized the helplessly bound young woman.

Dmitri smiled at the look of utter surprise on Mr. Smith's face, "Yes Mr. Smith, that Eve waiting there on the J-3000."

"But, how can you do this to her? Isn't she you assistant?"

Dmitri laughed, "Eve was never my assistant. Like you she's a client, one who shares a common interest in your Dolcett inspired fantasy. Of course, in Eve's case, she wanted to experience the fantasy from a slightly different perspective."

I could feel my heart racing as I listened to Dmitri and Mr. Smith talking about me.

I'd headed directly here after leaving Dmitri's office and I know this may sound a bit strange but as part of my contract with Dmitri's organization I wanted to meet the person who intended to impale me and then roast me alive before serving my at his fancy dinner party.

You might ask what could possibly make a beautiful young woman long to end up like this, to willingly allow herself to become the main course in some stranger's cannibalistic dinner feast.

Hey, every girl dreams of living out her secret fantasies but most never get the chance. Not me, today I'm going to experience my ultimate fantasy, even if it kills me. Especially this fantasy because I just know it's going to kills me!

So, that's here I came to be here, helplessly strapped upon a Jessica 3000 inspired impalement machine patiently waiting for a complete stranger to push the machine's activation switch and make me into meat.

Standing next to the J-3000 with Eve's lovely young form strapped tightly in place, Dmitri explained, "As you can see, while our J-3000 impalement system closely resembles the original Jessica 3000 machines depicted in Dolcett's artwork. However, as you can see, we've incorporated several major improvements in Dolcett's original concept."

Gesturing toward the brutally sharp looking tip of the impalement spit poised almost obscenely behind Eve's smoothly shaved crotch, Dmitri continued, "Unlike Dolcett's original Jessica 3000 design, the impalement and gutting sequence on our J-3000 system is fully automatic. And thanks to the J-3000's sophisticated onboard computer system every woman who's ever mounted the J-3000 has ended up going into the roasting oven not only alive but fully conscious."

Pointing out the raised support holding Eve securely at the neck and just below her dangling breasts, Dmitri explained, "The real secret to our perfect success rate is the high resolution ultrasonic mapping sensors concealed within the J-3000's two upper body restraint supports. These ultrasonic sensors allow the J-3000's computer to build a real-time three-dimensional map of each woman's unique internal structure and to closely monitor the impalement spit's progress through her body. This mapping allows the computer to steer the impalement spit's sharp point past vital organs and blood vessels allowing the spit to advance through the woman's body without causing her significant internal damage."

Pointing out the location of the machine's activation switch, Dmitri continued, "Once activated the J-3000's impalement spit advances at a speed of six inches per minute and takes about eight to ten minutes to fully complete the impalement. And once the impalement cycle completes the J-3000 automatically begins the gutting cycle."

Staring down at the sharp tip of the impalement spit poised mere inches from Eve's smoothly shaved sex Mr. Smith casually asked, "It hurts doesn't it?"

Dmitri laughed, "Excruciatingly painful, I can assure you that she'll be screaming in agony from the moment the impalement spit's sharpened tip ruptures her cervix. And that she'll keep screaming until the spit passes her vocal cords. Of course, that will stop her screaming but not her suffering. She still has to endure being gutted, the indignity of having you reaching up inside her belly to remove any lingering remnants of her digestive track, then having you sew her belly closed and shoving the anal stabilizing rod deep into her anus, and lastly or course, being roasted alive."

Already looking forward to sharing the mouthwatering taste of Eve's slow roasted flesh with his dinner companions Mr. Smith asked, "How long will she last in the oven?"

Dmitri smiled as he replied, "Most woman seem to survive for about an hour in the oven and just last year we had one young lady who managed to live for almost two hours. Anyway, your guests will be arriving at eight this evening so you should get started. Eve will need to roast for at least five hours before she'll be ready to serve."

After Dmitri left Mr. Smith spent for a few minutes watching his victim. Here was a beautiful young woman. A woman so utterly submissive that she was willing to die in almost unimaginable agonizing torment just so he and his friends could dine on her flesh. Frankly, as he stood there watching her submissively waiting to die, he could never have imagined a more intensely erotic moment.

The woman gasped as his fingertips brushed across her throbbing clitoris. Moments later a low moan of pure erotic pleasure escaped the woman's lips as he slowly pressed two of his fingers deep into her wetness.

Mr. Smith smiled as he felt the sides of woman's vagina sensuously tighten to grip his fingers. She was so wet that he actually felt bad that he didn't have time for fuck her senseless before snuffing her cute little ass. And just think of the bragging rights he'd have after tonight's dinner.

Eve closed her eyes as emitted a soft cry of pure sexual pleasure as her third powerful orgasm in as many minutes washed over her. Never in her life could Eve have imagined that a man could have brought her to multiple orgasms this quickly and by just using his fingers.

Several minutes and several incredible orgasms later soft sighed of pure sexual satisfaction escaped Eve's lips as she felt Mr. Smith's fingers finally sliding from the heated wetness of her throbbing sex.

Carefully keeping her eyes downcast Eve watched in silence as Mr. Smith finally came around to stand before her. She felt his fingertips caressing the side of her face as she stared at the massive bulge of his erect cock outlined through the tight fabric of his pants. When his fingertips brushed across her lips she instinctively opened her mouth and enveloped them, the taste and smell of her sex filling her senses as she greedily sucked the last lingering taste of her multiple orgasms from his fingerstips. Only then, did his fingers slip from between her delicate pouting lips and move downward toward the J-3000's patiently waiting activation switch.

Eve felt an intensely ominous chill of dark foreboding as she watched as Mr. Smith's fingertip came to rest of the J-3000's activation switch. The erotic way the lingering traces of her saliva glistened against his skin as he slowly pressed down on the activation switch until she heard a faint metallic click.

At first, nothing seemed to happen. Not that it seemed to bother Mr. Smith who'd poured himself a glass of wine and casually taken as seat in the corner of the room. Finally, I couldn't take it any longer. Lifting my head I turned to him, I wanted to know if this was all some sick perverted joke at my expense. I felt my outrage growing the instant I recognized that smug expression on his all too handsome face. The same smug expression I associate with guys who don't have a clue when it comes to foreplay and think woman will fall to their knees and worship them as sex gods even though they can barely keep it up for more then 30 seconds in bed.

But, then again, I guess it just took a few minutes for the J-3000's computer to process all the imaging data collected by the machines ultrasonic sensors and construct it's mapping of my body's internal structure. I was just opening my mouth to ask, "What the fuck is going on?" when I heard the faint hydraulic hiss of the J-3000's impalement spit starting to move.

In that timeless moment, I'm not sure what terrified me more. The outrage I felt when I'd thought this was all a twisted rip off or the terrifying truth that I'd paid some total stranger named Dmitri half a million dollars for the privilege of snuffing me. And knowing with absolute certainty that I wasn't going to be a repeat customer, Dmitri had charged me twice the going rate. It seemed impossibly ironic that I'd paid twice as much for this fantasy as that guy sitting across the room enjoying his glass of vintage Merlot.

I could hear the hydraulic hiss of the J-3000's impalement spit moving steadily closer to my vulnerable exposed crotch. I'd seen the massive steel shaft of the impalement spit when they'd strapped me upon the J-3000 and I knew the spit advanced at a steady six inches per minute and that the tip of the spit had to travel just over twelve inches before it reached my crotch but frankly those two minutes seemed like an unending eternity. And honestly, it wasn't until I felt the sharp tip of the impalement spit pressing into my sex that I finally accepted that my darkest fantasy was, at long last, finally coming true.

And, for the first time in my life I felt utterly and totally submissive, a willing snuff slave to that unrelenting impalement spit as it moved steadily deeper into my sex. I'd braced myself for the feeling of cold steel but the smooth steel shaft of the impalement spit felt impossibly warm when it finally reached me.

Perhaps I should have expected it, but still, it came as a total and unexpected shock when I climaxed. Of course, that was before the sharp point of the impalement spit reached my cervix.

Despite all that I'd fantasized, the pain when it arrived went far beyond anything I could ever have imagined.

One moment, I was in orgasmic bliss. Then, a sudden dull ache as the unyielding tip of impalement spit finally reached the entrance of my womb. I felt the pressure of the slowly advancing spit trying to push me forward against the machine's tight unyielding restraints.

The J-3000 employed thousands of pounds of hydraulic pressure to slowly advance the impalement spit six inches a minute, or an inch deeper into my body every ten seconds.

Within seconds that dull ache deep within my belly transformed into unimaginable, mind-searing, agony as the sharp, relentlessly advancing tip of the impalement spit ruptured my cervix and moved upward into my uterus.

Somehow, I'd always imagined my impalement as something intensely erotic, the ultimate act of submissive sexual surrender. How could I have ever been this foolishly naive?

I found myself screaming uncontrollably, I'd never imagined enduring something that hurt this much and that with each passing moment the pain would only grew worse and worse. Obscenely, I could actually feel the impalement spit advancing slowly upward through my guts.

I suddenly realized that sadistic bastard Dolcett had only briefly mentioned one of the darker aspects of riding his Jessica 3000. That small bit of dialog where Mr. Hill asks Meredith to choose between being gagged, so she could scream away, or choose just enough pain killers so that she can finish her last interview before she dies.

But this isn't one of Dolcett's cleanly drawn illustrations, this is the real world and I'd astride a modern day incarnation of his infamous Jessica 3000 impalement machine and I'm also in the terrifying place that inspired those hideous "Hostel" movies. And deep down I know that no one here in this unspeakable place intended to ever offer me pain killers or even a gag.

Here, in this unspeakably horrible place, they actually enjoy the screams.

It was getting harder to breathe. The sharp point of the impalement spit was through my diaphragm and moving slowly upward through my chest. The pain is already beyond comprehension and only getting worse with each passing second.

I want this unrelenting torment to end. I want to die. I pray that the impalement spit will pierce my heart and end my torment. But, deep down, I already know that's not going to happen anytime soon. And, while already unspeakably painful, I know the worst is still ahead.

I open my mouth to scream but there's only the labored sound of my breathing. I can feel myself starting to gag as the impalement spit moves steadily upward into my throat.

I struggled not to choke as I felt the sharp tip of the impalement spit pushing past my tonsils. Within seconds the smooth polished steel spit fills my mouth, pressing down against my tongue, stretching my jaw painfully wide to accommodate its hideously obscene diameter.

Helplessly, I watched as the tip of the impalement spit finally emerged from within my mouth. The pain was indescribable and unrelenting. Not only couldn't I imagine how I could ever have survived something this obscenely painful but, more horrifying still, that I was still fully conscious and fully aware of everything happening to me.

The immense steel shaft seemed surprisingly clean. I'd expected to see it coated with blood and gore but the only thing I could see on the shaft was my own saliva. And while it felt like my chest was on fire with each desperate shallow breath I took, somehow I still managed to keep breathing, despite that brutal impalement spit filling my throat.

I glanced over to where Mr. Smith was standing as he intently watched the impalement spit slowing coming out of my mouth. I'd have done anything to die. The pain was so overwhelmingly horrible. Our eyes met and I felt my heart sink. One look into his cold sadistic eyes and I knew he would never offer me a quick merciful death. Frankly, he was enjoying my unspeakably agonizing torment far too much to ever consider cutting my life short.

Moments later, as I felt the impalement spit finally stop moving through my body, I suddenly realized he wasn't smiling so much in amusement as in darkly ominous anticipation.

Sensing the sudden realization in Eve's lovely pain racked eyes, Mr. Smith laughed, "So Meat, if you thought the excruciating agony you've been enduring couldn't possibly get any worse, your wrong, your about to experience a whole new level in pain."

And horrifyingly, he was so painfully correct.

Mere moments before, I couldn't have imagined anything worse then the unspeakably agonizing pain I was already enduring but now I was discovering just how horribly naive I'd been.

In what seemed like just a few brief seconds the razor sharp gutting blade left an unbelievable trail of blinding hot agony as it sliced open my abdomen from my crotch up to the underside of my sternum. I suddenly felt an almost overwhelming sensation of nausea and bloating. I could feel my belly slowly distending under the weigh of my own intestines.

I tensed my stomach muscles in a desperate attempt to keep my insides where they belonged but it was ultimatily little more that a futile gesture. Within seconds I heard a wet sounding splash as the first few loops of my intestines spill onto the gutting chute. And then a loud sickening splash as the rest of my guts quickly followed.

Mr. Smith wait until the flood of entrails slowed to a stop before he picked up the small knife that Dmitri had thoughtfully left on the tray next to the oven. Then, reaching up into Eve's trembling body he carefully cut free her stomach and the few loops of the woman's intestines that remained tangled around the impalement spit's shaft.

Never having done something like this before, it had taken Mr. Smith almost an hour to finish the cooking preparations. Wiping the woman's blood from his chest and arms he thankfully recalled how Dmitri had suggested he change out of his clothes before entering the kitchen area.

Drying his hands, Mr. Smith glanced back at where the main course of his dinner party patiently waited to go into the oven and smiled. She'd screamed all the way through being impaled but hadn't shed a tear until the gutting blade opened her up. He fondly recalled the utterly charming way her breath hissed as he'd used that hot iron to cauterize the few lingering wounds inflected during the gutting process. And the erotic way she'd squirmed as he'd carefully stitched her belly closed. And the sensuous way she'd rolled her ass and groaned as he pushed that anal stabilizer's long shaft through her tight little anus and deep into the empty space that her rectum used to occupy.

Well, best to get back to work. Hanging the towel back on its rack Mr. Smith turned back to where the woman was waiting so patiently on the hydraulic lift over by the oven. He smiled as he wondered how she'd react to the heat. After all, while the kitchen area was actually fairly cold, the oven was set at 375 degrees.

Closing the oven's heavy glass door Mr. Smith paused for a few minutes to observe the lovely young woman he'd just placed within the oven. She seemed almost relaxed as she roasted in the oven's searing heat.

She'd closed her pretty green eyes as soon as she'd felt the heat. And now, other then the rhythmic swelling of her bosom as she breathed or the occasional twitching movement of her hands or feet one might think that she was already dead.

He hadn't realized that the oven spit didn't rotate. That instead, the oven used convection heating fans to circulate the air around the meat as it cooked. Glancing up at the clock, he suddenly realized it was getting late. He'd better get back upstairs and clean up before his guests arrived. Perhaps, after dinner, he'd ask his friends if they'd like to get together again for a barbeque later this summer. He was already looking forward to watching the expression on that meals main course as her spit slowly rotated over the roasting pit's red hot coals.

Alone, in the almost unbearable heat of the oven, one remaining thought kept going through Eve's tormented mind.

"It's Hot, So Hot. Please Let Me Die!"

"It's Hot, So Hot. Please Let Me Die!"

"It's Hot, So Hot. Please Let Me Die!"

"It's Hot, So Hot..."