The fishing corner 1/2 (MF/f,hanging,cann), uncorrected version
By : Dikke Kannibaal, dikke_kannibaal@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER: (1) this stuff is fantasy, and if it is not, please 
invite me (2) this text is copyrighted.
QUESTION: if someone could correct the typos and other errors, and 
send me an e-mail, I’d be glad to correct them.
                            *************
“Well, I’m really curious about this fishing stuff you talked me 
about” Marc said to Ingram while they were being checked at the gate. 
It was a very high level private party, they were invited to, and 
both were wearing easy casual clothing: the party was so high level a 
costume would have been an insult. Talking about dressing code going 
into circles.
“Well, you’ll see for yourself. Dikke has a very nice fishing-ground, 
and, as far as I have being told, the snuffies are very nice too.”
After the necessary checks of the invitation cards both young men 
entered the nice playground. They had to walk a little bit through a 
nice tree garden before reaching the half-circular guesthouse, built 
in the middle of the garden. Before the guesthouse, the early 
preparations for a large barbecue had already started, tables were 
being placed and three large fire pits were burning slowly. The fire 
pits were clearly intended for the spitting of some snuffies, but 
there was also a more traditional barbecue present, not yet burning. 
Ingram was walking around, meeting friends, talking about business 
and sports, and introducing Marc to a lot of people. Marc, a newbie 
in this kind of social gathering, carefully entertained some 
conversation with the other people, exchanging business cards when 
needed, and tried to get acquainted with some people from the 
mortgage business. He was also running a very profitable mortgage 
business in Sacramento. It was always nice to meet people from the 
same profession as your own: you had to walk the fine balance between 
co-operation with them, or being devoured by them. Marc liked this 
kind of interaction.
After the necessary chitchat, Ingram suggested that is was time to 
get a look at the fishing-ground, and maybe try their fortune.
“If you think I would have forgotten that” Marc replied dryly.
They both walked to the backside of the house, were a lot of people 
were gathered around a rectangular field, about the size of a tennis 
field. To the left and the right hand side of the field, a single 
rail was mounted in the ground, and on those rails a 20 feet high 
gantry crane was installed. The gantry could drive forwards and 
backwards on the rails, covering the whole field in the length. Under 
the gantry, a hooking system was installed, that could move from left 
to right, and could lower and raise a hook. This way, the hook could 
reach any place of the field: the gantry could drive from the front 
to the back, the hooking system could move on the gantry from left to 
right, and then the hook could be lowered.
On the field, the fishing ground as it was called, twenty-five white 
dots were painted on the ground, and on each dot a girl was standing. 
They were all tied, but in different ways. Some of them had their 
hands tied to the back, others in front of them, but then secured to 
their legs, or between their legs. Some of them had the elbows tied 
together at their back, some of them had their feet securely tied 
together, others had their feet free. It looked as if every possible 
combination was tried out. Marc remarked however that none of them 
could raise their hands above breast level.
Their bondage was not the most interesting point about them however. 
They were all equipped with a short, double noose: a ‘normal’ noose 
was fixed closely around their neck, but the rope, clearly reinforced 
with metal wire, was not hanging down but was standing up above their 
head for about one feet, and there terminated in a second noose. This 
second noose was plied horizontally, so that a first loop circled 
closely the neck of the standing girls, and a second noose formed a 
circle just above their head. It made Marc think about the angel 
figures from his childhood, were they had to wear an aureole above 
their heads. The upper strap was painted in a screaming red. Marc 
remarked that the ropes were of a kind of leather, not simply rope 
stuff.
He started to see the scene. By moving around the gantry, the 
moveable hook was positioned above a girl. Then the hook was lowered 
and raised again. If the hook picked in the red-painted strap, the 
girl would be lifted by the noose, and could be transported by the 
gantry.
“I think you see the mechanics,” said Ingram” they are easy to 
understand. The aim is to try to pick up a girl. Literally, that is. 
There are some rules, some of them are written, others more a 
question of ‘well behaviour’. I’ll explain. First, if you want to do 
some fishing, you can buy five tokens, over there at that desk, the 
money will be used for charity. Then you position yourself at one of 
the control points, insert your token and wait until the green lamp 
on the control box burns. The gantry starts in the front, with the 
lifting mechanism at the left. On the control box you have three 
buttons. One for moving the gantry to the back, one for moving the 
lifting mechanism to the right, and one for fishing. First you move 
the gantry to the back. You may start/stop a few times, then you move 
the lifting mechanism to the right. Once you start moving the lifting 
mechanism, you cannot revert to moving the gantry further backwards. 
At last you push the fishing butting, and the system lowers the hook 
and raises it again. If you fished something, your catch is brought 
to one of the waiting poles over there, and is suspended to one of 
those hooks. If you don’t catch anything, the gantry returns to its 
neutral position, and it is someone else’s turn to try his luck.
If you have catched something, your catch is completely yours. You 
can leave her hanging at the pole, until she suffocates, but you can 
also take her with you to the guesthouse, where you can take her, or 
snuff her any way you want. One of the possibilities is to enter her 
as a roast for the barbecue. If you are done with her, you must 
return her to the personnel, either with a discharge, so her duty is 
finished for the day, either you may re-enter her in the fishing 
grounds. As you can see, there are twenty-five fishes on the field, 
but some of them are being held in reserve, to fill the gaps. You can 
see over there how many fishes remain available.”
He pointed to a number board at the side of the field that was 
showing the number thirty-seven.
“I thought you told me yesterday there were only thirty fishes” Marc 
asked.
“There are in effect thirty snuffies available as fishes, but there 
are also some volunteers. But first take a look, someone is fishing”.
They both looked at the gantry, while a middle-aged man and woman 
were standing before the control box and inserted a token. 
Immediately the green lamp flashed on and the man started to pull the 
left button. Smoothly the gantry rolled to the back. Marc could see 
the faces of the fishes change as the gantry passed over their head: 
this time it was not for them, again five minutes gained. The gantry 
stopped at the fourth line of girls, then the woman started to push 
the second button for the lifting mechanism to move. It halted above 
a buxom redhead. Both were animatedly discussing whether or not they 
should move a little bit further. Then the woman pushed the fishing 
button. Rather quickly the hook descended. Clearly the alignment was 
not perfect, for it touched the shoulder of the girl, and glided 
along her back. The mechanism stopped while the hook was at the 
height of the breasts of the girl, then paused a bit, and then slowly 
started to lift the hook again. The hook glided along the back of the 
girl, then her shoulder, but wen leaving the shoulder started to 
swing and missed the strap above the head completely. The hook raised 
slowly, then faster, and the gantry returned to its place. As soon as 
the gantry started to move, the girl clearly let out a deep sigh, and 
relaxed her muscles. Marc sensed how he had lived with the try, and 
felt a bang of pity the hook had missed its target.
“Ok Ingram, what’s that volunteer stuff, and how do you make sure the 
fishes are not moving their head to avoid that hook.”
“Well, that’s easy. The straps are painted in red, and there is an 
automatic vision system monitoring all straps and all girls. As soon 
as a girl leaves the white dot she is standing on, or as soon as the 
strap is tilted too much or lowered too much, a first warning sign is 
given to the girl, with a small buzzer in the middle of the white 
spot. If the situation is not corrected immediately, or if the 
deviation was simply too large, e.g. a girl effectively bowing away 
her head, then that fish is an immediate candidate for live spitting. 
It’s a way to make sure you have a nice barbecue. Furthermore, only 
ten attempts to capture a fish are allowed, so if after ten attempts 
the fish has not been hooked, she is taken out of the fishing-ground, 
and her duty for the day is finished.
Now about the volunteers. Rather often girls are volunteering for 
this. They are not snuffies, but are mostly guests. If volunteering, 
they are mingled with the snuffies and are subject to the same rules 
as them, with one difference: if set free, they are not returned to 
the personnel, but are free again. As you can see, there must be 
seven volunteers between the fishes now, but maybe they are still in 
the pen, waiting to be placed. Now, about well-mannered behaviour, 
there are some things you should know. First, if you catch something, 
you shouldn’t monopolise your catch for the day. Fuck her, snuff her, 
or release her, no problem, but don’t walk around with her to use her 
the full afternoon, as if you were too poor to get another snuffie. 
Secondly, snuffing a volunteer you don’t know is considered bad 
taste. It is also considered very bad taste to put your girlfriend in 
the fishing ground, and use this as a method to get rid of her on the 
barbecue, or for a girl to snuff someone's girlfriend to take her 
place. It is allowed, but you’d better not do that.”
“Can you recognise the volunteering girls?” asked Marc, while he was 
looking at a second attempt from the couple to catch the redhead.
“Well, that’s an interesting point. There is only one rule: the 
snuffies are all fully naked, except high-heeled shoes, and are fully 
shaven, with the exception of their head of course. So, if you see a 
girl wearing some clothes, or having a bush, that’s a volunteer. Some 
girls however want to try the thrill of mingling completely with the 
snuffies, shave themselves and appear fully naked on the fishing 
ground, so you can’t know whether they are volunteers or not.”
“Those girls are taking a serious risk!” Marc remarked.
“That’s quite the idea. As a matter of fact, they can be fished by 
someone who doesn’t know them, and likes the way they are squirming 
while suffocating, or who thinks they would do great on the spit, and 
they are history. Furthermore, if you snuff such a volunteer, no-one 
will point a finger at you, on the contrary, they will consider you 
lucky.”
“Does the rule for not moving also apply to the volunteers?”
“Yes, and I have seen it applied already. It was last year. Two 
girls, knowing each other, both brunettes, had volunteered. They were 
both wearing a long evening dress. It was a very nice sight, having 
them fully clothed between the naked snuffies. One of the girls was 
being fished by a couple from the Midwest. The couple let her hang 
from the pole, and slowly undressed her while she was suffocating. 
After about twenty minutes, the girl was fully undressed, and while 
she was clearly becoming convulsed, the couple fondled her a last 
time, kissed each other and left, hand in hand, to the guest house, 
leaving their catch to die. The other girl had seen this, as she was 
positioned just near the control pole where her friend was hanging 
from. At that moment the hook touched her head, and she went 
screaming down, setting of the full alarm. She was seized 
immediately, and later on spitted above the fire, while the remnants 
of her friend were grilled on the barbecue. I still remember she had 
nice tits.”
                            *************
The couple had tried for the fifth time to catch the redhead, but 
without success. Now other people were joining in, and soon the four 
control boxes were occupied.
Marc studied the scene. As in every game, he wanted to win, and he 
was waging his chances. But there was not much you could do. It all 
was a gamble: the gantry was too high to take a good guess at its 
position, and the hook was swinging anyhow while going down, so you 
just had to be lucky. He noticed that two of the girls were clearly 
volunteers. One of them, a black girl, had a nice bush growing 
between her legs, and the other was wearing boots. He bought his five 
tokens, and started to gather around a control box. The guy 
manipulating the controls was aiming at a small, blonde girl, just 
before him. He laughed to her while he was aiming the gantry. His 
first three tries failed, but the fourth time, the hook fell in the 
horizontal strap. Marc could see the horror on the face of the girl, 
while the mechanism waited a little bit, before starting to rise 
again. The hook nicely picked in the strap and the girl was lifted by 
the neck, transported to one of the poles, and hanged there for her 
new master to decide upon her fate. Her legs had been securely bound, 
so she couldn’t move too much, but she was swinging around, clearly 
fighting the noose. Because it was the first catch of the day, a 
small applause raised while he walked to the pole, to study his catch 
in detail, and to decide what to do next.
Marc took his place at the control box and studied the girls before 
him. On the third row was the black girl volunteer, and he kind of 
liked the way she was looking. She had a nice muscular belly, and 
would do great in a noose. He inserted his token and tried four times 
to catch her, but to no avail. He was surprised to see how the girl 
was standing motionless on her white spot, while the hook was fishing 
for her. During his last try, the hook fell right on the red strap, 
pushing it somehow down. Suddenly a soft buzzer went on. The girl 
gasped and stretched herself. Clearly the vision system had detected 
that the strap was too low now, and warned the girl. But being bound 
at her ankles too, she couldn’t do that much, and after a few 
seconds, a red light started to flash. Two man from the personnel 
entered the fishing ground, while the girl was crying out loud that 
she hadn’t moved, and that it wasn’t her fault, but to no avail. The 
rule was clear: the upper strap had to remain horizontal, or the girl 
was spitted. The two assistants carried away the squirming girl and 
replaced her immediately with another volunteering girl, a blonde in 
her early thirties. The blonde, having seen and understood the scene, 
was rather pale. One of the assistants walked to Marc and handed him 
a small sheet of paper. It identified Marc as the one who had 
entailed the spitting of the black girl.
Marc didn’t know how to react. It had not been his intention to snuff 
the girl, surely not to spit her. She was much to lean to be 
spitted : for spitting you needed plumper ones, but on the other 
hand, what had happened wasn’t clearly his fault. A woman in his 
early thirties just at his side looked at him.
“You lucky guy, spitting a volunteer! That’s the first time I see 
something like this happening. And as a catcher, you get the first 
choice. By the way, may name is Mirna.”
“I am Marc, but to tell you the truth, that was not my intention, you 
know.”
“Well, as a fish you know what can happen. I have been there in the 
fishing grounds already two times now, being catched once, and things 
like this are needed to make it good for us. No risk, no fun you 
know. I think she has tasty breasts”
“Well, as I am alone, and as I have – as you say – a first choice, 
may I invite you to taste them with me?”
She looked at him, smilingly “Of course, an invitation like that is 
something I will not let pass. Say, I still have four tokens, wanna 
throw another hook with me? I’ll show you how to do.”
“I would be glad to.”
“Well, you have to look at the shadow of the gantry. See, the white 
spots are all at regular distances. Now, that guy there is aiming at 
that girl on row five, see? Just note the position of the shadow of 
the gantry and the lifting system. It is about three fingers behind 
and one foot to the left of a white spot. Now he descends the hook, 
look: a bit too much to the front. So, to catch you must move the 
shadow of the gantry about a half feet behind and one foot to the 
left of a white spot, and then try your luck. Of course, as the sun 
moves, you must re-adjust continuously.”
“You know, it is the earth that moves, not the sun,” Marc joked, “but 
besides that it is a nice technique. Let’s try it.”
She laughed. “Ok, go for the brown ponytail on the third row.”
Marc moved the gantry carefully to the back. He started to have the 
feeling in his fingers, when to loose the button, to position the 
gantry where he wanted. Then Mirna moved the lifting system to the 
right, and pushed the fishing button. The hook descended right above 
the head of the ponytail-fish, but failed to snap the strap. They 
retried, and at the third attempt, the girl was slowly being lifted 
and was transported to one of the waiting pillars.
“We’ve done it!” Mirna laughed with joy. Marc looked up from the 
control panel. He had been concentrating more than he expected. They 
walked to the waiting pole, where their catch was hanging. Marc saw 
she was not alone: clearly the fishers started to get the feeling. 
From the pole net to his catch, the blonde volunteer that had 
replaced the black girl was hanging, twisting her legs for lack of 
air, while two boys ware laughingly stroking her body.
“What to do with her?” asked Marc.” Mirna inspected their catch. The 
girl was clearly experienced, not twisting but saving her power to 
try to breathe through the noose.
“Do you have any suggestions?” she asked.
“Well, all this has turned me on, and we have about two hours before 
lunch, so I would suggest we take her to the resthouse, fit her to a 
strangling device, and have some fun while she dies.”
Mirna pressed herself against him. “Nice.” she said.
With a simple push on a button, the strap was released from the pole, 
and the ponytail-girl fell on the ground, gasping for air. Mirna took 
the noose, loosened it a bit, so the girl could breath again, and 
untied her feet.
“Come on, snuffie, job to do.” she said to the girl, while pulling 
her towards the guesthouse. Inside the guesthouse, they took one of 
the free rooms. Inside, Marc attached the noose of the girl to a 
lifting mechanism at the backside of the bed. With a small remote 
control, the rope could be pulled up or could be lowered, or some 
cyclic motion of up and down could be programmed. Once the girl was 
secured, Mirna moved to the headend of the bed, and turned a switch. 
A red light switched on immediately, signalling to everybody that 
this was not going to be a play, but that it was, irrevocably, going 
to be a snuff session. This system was introduced, because some 
people wanted to scare the shit out of the snuffies, but without 
actually snuffing them, whereas others wanted to snuff a girl while 
the girl remained hopeful till the end. So the red light system was 
introduced. If it did not burn, a snuffie could hope to survive the 
game, but could still be snuffed. If however the light was on, the 
game was intended to be final.
Mirna programmed the control such that the girl would be hanged and 
released repeatedly, with longer and longer hanging periods. Marc was 
a bit surprised with Mirna’s decision to immediately go for a full 
snuff session, but did not complain. The contortions of the hanging 
girl had aroused him significantly, and Mirna's soft embrace did the 
rest…
*****************************************************************
The fishing corner 2/2 (MF/f,hanging,cann), uncorrected version
By : Dikke Kannibaal, dikke_kannibaal@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER: (1) this stuff is fantasy, and if it is not, please 
invite me (2) this text is copyrighted.
QUESTION: if someone could correct the typos and other errors, and 
send me an e-mail, I’d be glad to correct them.
                               *************
Outside, Ingram had watched Marc while he was trying to catch the 
black girl, finally sending her to the spit as a live roast. He 
worried a bit because Marc clearly had sent a volunteer to the 
barbecue table, but listening to the comments of the people, he was 
reassured finding out they considered it as one of those things that 
could happen during a snuff-role-play, and even considered Marc as 
lucky to have landed such a nice piece of meat. They pitied the girl 
a bit, but couldn’t hide their excitement. Dikke, the organiser, 
later told Ingram that at the next fishing party, there had been 
fifteen volunteers, mostly because of the black girl incident. “Some 
people like to play with fire – literally,” he had said, “and when 
they burn, the others like it still more.” When Ingram then remarked 
that Mirna was taking a seemingly successful dead set at Marc, he let 
him care for himself, and started thinking about his own pleasure.
Marc was a roasting guy. He was not so much in hanging a snuffie, but 
sending a nice piece of meat to the spit was one of his favourites, 
and he was good at it. He overlooked carefully the fishes in the 
fishing ground and selected a few possible spit-girls. Some of the 
snuffies were seemingly good candidates: in their late twenties, not 
too muscular, nice breasts. He phoned to Dikke, and to his 
satisfaction, with the exception of the black girl, there were still 
no spitting girls available, so he simply could go on. Ingram knew 
that, if other people turned in spitting girls, or if some girls 
missed their poses in the fishing ground, he’d better let those girls 
precede, that was easier for the organisation. He preferred to wait, 
and fill in the gaps, it gave him a semi-professional feeling.
From the fishing grounds, he selected a blonde with short hair, that 
in his eyes looked as if she was simply made for spitting. He bought 
a few tokens and awaited his turn. On the fishing ground, half of the 
spots were already empty, which meant that more than 20 girls had 
already been taken to be snuffed or to serve their catchers, or had 
survived the ten trial catches, and were withdrawn. Next to the 
blonde stood a volunteer girl, a nice gal, with such a terror in her 
eyes, that he almost laughed when he saw it. The girl had seen how 
one of the snuffies had been left hanging at the poles until she 
suffocated, while the catchers just delighted themselves in 
discussing the movements and the muscles of the dying girl. It had 
finally dawn upon her that the only reason she wouldn’t be snuffed 
would be the politeness of an eventual catcher, and was clearly 
thinking about the people present, who possibly could despise her 
enough to forget about politeness and just seize the opportunity to 
snuff her. But she couldn’t go back anymore. The story of what 
happened to the black girl was undoubtedly known to her now, and she 
stood stiff as an arrow.
But Ingram aimed at her neighbour. After two trials already he 
catched the girl, and the gantry transported the squirming body to 
one of the resting poles. With his three remaining tokens he tried to 
get the anxious volunteer, but he didn’t really concentrate and the 
hook missed the strap three times, albeit by a small margin. He hoped 
the girl wouldn’t faint, because that also would entail a single trip 
to the barbecue spit, and this girl clearly was too lean to be a good 
long pork. Then he walked to the pole where his catch was hanging. 
Slowly he let his hand slide over the moving muscles, and pinched the 
calves and breasts of the girl. The way she squirmed and tried t 
grasp some air affirmed his idea: she was in very good condition, and 
the meat would be well marbled. He let the girl down, give her some 
time to catch breath, attached his leash to her noose and started 
walking towards the barbecue pits. The girl, walking behind him, 
clearly started to tremble as they approached the pits. She didn’t 
know what was going to happen, but every step in the direction of the 
spit was a bad one. When they reached the spitting corner, Ingram saw 
that the black girl had just been gutted and that they were cleaning 
here insides. He decided not to disturb the cook, and remained 
silent, looking interestedly at the way the cook was now proceeding. 
Spitting and stuffing a live girl was not easy at all, and Ingram 
always tried to learn about how other people proceeded. The girl at 
his leash was breathing audible from fear. She didn’t know where to 
look: at the black girl, that was now being put at the spit, before 
being stuffed, or at the three fireplaces, or at the butchers block, 
where some of the snuffed girls were being chopped to pieces, or, 
worst of all, to the empty chains, were normally three girls could be 
attached, three girls to be spitted alive, where now was none, and 
only one spit taken…
With rapid movements, the cook filled the black girl with the 
stuffing, and then sewed up her belly. He gave a signal to two 
waiting men, who lifted the spit and carried it to one of the waiting 
firepits. A lot of men and women had gathered around it, and received 
the two man with their live roast with a firm applause. They man 
putted the black girl above the farthest firepit, at the highest 
level, so she would cook slowly. The leanness of the girl, and the 
fact that she was the first to go over the fire, necessitated slow 
roasting. As always, there was no problem in finding volunteers for 
turning the spit and basting the meat, two women in shorts and T-
shirts took care of this. Because of the heat however, they often 
swapped places with other woman.
The black girl in the mean time entered her private hell. An 
afternoon that had started with a joyful invitation, some laughing 
while volunteering for the fishing game, had suddenly changed into 
her body being considered, not as that of a desirable young girl, but 
as a piece of meat, to be prepared for the entertainment and the food 
of the guests. She was thinking about the weeks to come, about her 
plans, all futile now : for her there was nothing after this 
afternoon. While the two woman, when they grew tired from turning the 
spit or basting the meat, could walk away and do other things, she 
was fixed to this spit, confined to being exposed to the heat, the 
increasing heat, and her squirming and moaning would only bring 
smiles upon the faces of the lookers-on, and some comments from other 
woman, about how small her breasts were, and whether she was coming 
or not. Sometimes a flame burst out of the firepit, making the woman 
who was basting her to jump back a bit to escape the sudden heat, but 
such a relieve was not possible for the roastie, and the flame licked 
her sizzling flesh.
“Hi Ingram, how are you doing” sounded a voice from behind him.
“Hi Dikke”, Ingram answered, turning around.” I’m fine, thanks. Say, 
your cook is just great. He stuffed and spitted that roastie very 
nicely. By the way, I have here something for him” he added, pointing 
to the girl at his lash.
Dikke smiled. He knew Ingram wouldn’t have complimented him if he 
didn’t mean it. He looked at the girl. “Nice catch. What do you wanna 
do with it?”
“Well, one spitted girl isn’t that much, and because there seem to be 
no other candidates, I think this one will do nicely.”
Dikke looked at the girl, and waved to the cook, who joint the group.
“Miguel, this is Ingram, Ingram, this is Miguel, the best spit-cook 
in the states.”
“Nice to meet you, Ingram, but Dikke is exaggerating, as always.”
“Maybe, but he has a point. I admired your agility. Say, I catched 
this girl here, what would you think, wouldn’t she make a nice spit?”
Miguel carefully looked at the girl, who was now almost crying, 
seeing her worst fears come true. He pinched her body.
“I think she will be great. You are offering her?”
“Yes, if Dikke agrees.”
“For me no problem, Ingram. Miguel, just go ahead.”
“Fine, because a single spit is so lonely, and we wouldn’t want that 
lean blackie to have to feed the whole group, wouldn’t we. Bring her 
to the table.”
Ingram walked to the butchering table, leading the now trembling meat 
at the lead with him, placing her with her back on the table. Miguel 
quickly fastened arms and legs, and selected his knives. The girl was 
looking to all sides now, as if she would like to drink in the whole 
world in the few minutes still left for her. With a single movement, 
Miguel opened her belly and started to quickly remove intestines. 
Cleaning her inside, inserting the spit, stuffing her belly and 
sewing her up again, in less than twenty minutes he transformed a 
nice, blonde girl into a piece of meat, with a spit entering the hole 
and coming out the mouth, and a fully stuffed belly, ready for 
roasting. The legs and arms were tied to the spit, and Miguel leaned 
back to contemplate his work. As he had expected, the girl just 
seemed a perfect fit for the spit. She was moaning softly, and slowly 
moving muscles. Miguel knew she would start to squirm once putted 
over the fire, but she was strong, and would last a reasonable time 
over the fire, giving the people the performance they were expecting 
to see from a master cook as him.
He signalled his two assistants, and the girl was carried away to the 
other firepit. Because she was much thicker than the black girl, that 
was now already roasting for half an hour, she was placed much closer 
to the fire than the black girl, and the heat immediately started to 
burn her flesh. Squirming around the spit, really as a fish out of 
the water, she was slowly turned around and basted by two other 
volunteering women. The woman taking care of the two roasties were 
heavily discussing the way both spitted long-porks compared to each 
other. Black and white, lean and well-marbled, late twenties and 
early twenties, slow cooking and fast roasting, all points were 
discussed. Still two hours to go, and the meal could start.
                             *************
In the resthouse, after having secured the ponytailed snuffie, Ingram 
turned to Mirna, and embraced her. Before he knew it, they were both 
lying on the bed, slowly enjoying each other body. While they were 
making love, the girl was being hanged and being released in a 
continuous rhythm. Between the lovemaking, they enjoyed looking at 
the girl squirming when being lifted, grasping for air while being 
released. After an hour and a half of lovemaking, Marc was really out 
of breath, and while they were laying in each other’s arms, Mirna 
pushed the acceleration button. Still enjoying the rest after the 
fucking frenzy of the preceding hour, they both watched how the noose 
was lifting the ponytail-girl from the floor, this time for the last 
time. The snuffie first started to squirm in the agony of death, her 
tongue out of her mouth, then tried to reach her throat with her tied 
hands, and finally turned blue and went limp, her body moving a 
little bit with some last convulsions. Marc and Mirna kissed, and 
slowly raised from the bed. It had been so good.
“I’m hungry” Marc said, feeling himself plump as he pronounced the 
words. Mirna laughed while she walked to the shower “No problem with 
that, that’s what the barbecue is for!”
After coming from the shower, Marc saw how Mirna, already dressed, 
was looking at the snuffie, now slowly dangling in the noose.
“You know,” she said,” what intrigues me always is how such a snuffie 
feels when she knows she is going to die, and she is going to die for 
someone’s pleasure. This girl for instance. Maybe she started out as 
a snuffie from a lottery, as a volunteer, or for money. I don’t care 
about that, I only look at their bodies, not their motives. But then, 
now, this afternoon, she knows that she will die. We are laying 
there, enjoying ourselves, and just to add a bit of spice to it, just 
to have some more pleasures, we let her hang. While she dies, she 
looks at us, strangers that have decided to kill her. For her no 
tomorrow, no further plans to make, no further pleasure. We will go 
to the barbecue, we may plan to do something this evening or 
tomorrow, she not. Her life ends here, and now she will be thrown 
away, and replaced by another snuffie, and we will not see the 
difference, and she knows that, while dying, that next time, in this 
same room, we may be here, but another snuffie will have taken her 
place, and I will again enjoy the sight, and then forget the face, 
the name, the snuffie. We don’t know her, and her mind and motives 
are not even interesting me. I have even once seen people just 
hanging a girl, and then walking away, not even looking at their 
snuffie, while she died. Just having hanged her was enough for them. 
It makes me feel hot.”
Marc laughed. “That’s maybe true, but enough is enough for me. 
Besides, dinner’s waiting.”
She embraced him and kissed him on his mouth. He added “Be careful if 
you participate to a fishing party again, I might use the opportunity 
to let you experience what you are guessing about. You surely are 
cute enough!”
She laughed teasingly, and, after having called the central office to 
have the snuffie removed, they walked out of the door, arm in arm, 
just in time for the barbecue.
                             *************
Marc saw that he had missed the stuffing and impaling of the black 
girl, he had been sending to the live spit roast. As he heard, it had 
been quite a spectacle. The girl never had thought about this 
possibility, but her boyfriend simply was turned on by the events, 
and had managed to find another girlfriend, even before she had been 
on the spit. She had been cleaned, stuffed and spitted, about the 
time Marc had fished the ponytail, and was directly put above the 
fire. One of the other fires was occupied by another snuffie, the 
third firepit was empty. Both girls had been alive over the fire for 
about two hours now, while being basted and rotated by the attendants
“Hi Marc, there you are. We were waiting for you to start eating, or 
have you forgotten you have the first choice on the blackie,” a 
person near the fire yelled at him. Mirna answered in his place: 
“You’re just jealous, Miguel. And Marc has transferred his right to 
me.” Miguel grinned. He knew Mirna already a long time, and admired 
her for the way she always succeeded in having the best parts served 
for her, both cooked female as living male meat.
Mirna took a platter and walked to the firepit. She looked carefully 
at the black girl, now sizzling with basting sauce.
“For me, a piece of the breasts muscles” she said to Miguel.
“As you wish, my dear, I always suspected you from being a bit a 
lesbian” he answered dryly. A few minutes later Mirna and Marc were 
sitting at the raw wooden tables, eating their meat with vegetables 
and a fine red wine. As she had guessed, the breast meat was 
delicious. Opposite to them, the ex-boyfriend of the black girl was 
discussing the quality of the meat with a gorgeous blonde, that was 
slowly chewing up the cunt of the roasted woman. Once more, it had 
been a perfect day.