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Roasted Meat

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thehangingtree

Proconsul
Staff member
Roasted Meat

Going back to medieval times it has been a tradition of roasting a woman for the archbishop’s annual banquet. In early times young women would compete to be the main course of the dinner. In researching this Tree has never understood why a woman would want to be skewered and spit-roasted for the archbishop’s dinner but it seemed to have been quite the honor!
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I suppose it was quite an accomplishment to be selected as the human sow. I don’t get the fascination of having a spit rammed up your ass and through your body to be roasted over an open fire pit.
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Apparently none complained as they were basted as they cooked over the hot fire.
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In the 1960s the spit was improved so the barbequed wench could last over an hour over the coals as she was roasted over the flames.
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Again, I hear none complained but I wonder if a spit rammed through her throat had any effect on that.
By the mid-1970s Tree was still way too young to drink but on a high school tour he was able to see a student wench from the University of the Martyrs bound and spitted. She would last, if I remember correctly, more than an hour as she roasted over the fire.
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With women’s liberation and the founding of PETS (People for the Ethical Treatment of Slaves) women were allowed to choose whether they were live spitted or be hanged before they are spitted. It may sound like kindness is being bestowed on the archbishop’s meat-women but Archbishop Wragg hired T. H. Tree to hang the wenches. Tree is rather skilled at having the whores women take more than quarter hour to strangle. It has been found the meat tastes as good as live spitting and church makes quite a bit of money selling tickets to the wench’s hanging.
We will look in on this…

Tree
 
As the spring equinox approaches the main course for Archbishop Wragg’s dinner is selected. A very lovely sow named Savannah is chosen for the cleric’s meat. She is locked in a cell given a private room with unlimited food and Madame Wu’s. It seems like generous treatment for a walking slab of meat. Savannah, quite stoned, does not agree. A week ago she was a free woman. Now she is the sow that will be cooked as Archbishop Wragg’s main course!
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Savannah chooses to be hanged before she is spit-roasted. She is under the delusion that being hanged would be more merciful than having a spit rammed through her live body. Savannah doesn’t know the archbishop would hire The Hanging Tree to hang her. Hell, she doesn’t even know who he is!

This annoys Tree. How could she not know who Tree is?!?!?!

Well, never mind. This can be taken up later! The spring equinox is a major event in Cruxton drawing huge crowds with more money than brains or morals. The preparation of sow meat starts just after dawn when sows are hanged four at a time before they are spitted and roasted.
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Some take it with resignation that their number came up to others like Ms. Moore who swears she has been framed. The noose will shut her up. From left to right the first batch of sows are hoisted up and hanged. When it is Barb Moore’s turn to be hanged she lets out an obscenity-laced diatribe that she was not randomly chosen as a sow to be cooked but was set up to get rid of her. As her feet leave the gallows’ deck her screaming ceased. That didn’t silence her completely. She squawks and gasps for a quarter hour as the noose slowly strangles her. Barb puts on a great dance while she slowly hangs to death above the appreciative crowd!
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From her cell Savannah watched the first set of sows hang.
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It dawned on her that being hanged may not be an easy way to die.

As a female citizen of Cruxton I was raised knowing I could be ‘honored’ to be the main course of the archbishop’s spring banquet. In school it seemed like I should hope to be picked. What could be more thrilling than being served on a platter as the main dish of the archbishop’s banquet?
I was one selected to be a finalist for the spring banquet. I appeared before Commandant Ilsa. I found it disturbing I was presented naked before the Commandant. I protested that I was free woman. The Commandant glared at me and asked “Have you ever seen a pig dressed when she is roasted?”

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I had to admit I never had seen one dressed while she was cooked. That was a big concession on my part. It would quite an education for me. I never have had anal sex and never cared to try it… ok, I actively avoided such an intrusion before that day. I hadn’t even done more that ‘cheek-kissed’ another woman. I was amazed when Ilsa shoved her hand into my ass as part of her inspection of me. I can’t say it felt great- it really hurt- but I have to admit having her fist in my ass was more than a bit stimulating!
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I am not saying I came as her fingers probed my bowels… it is none of your business, really…

Shortly after the first women- sows they call us- were hanged the prison matrons come in and remove the shackles from my ankles. My wrists are tied behind my back. I assume it is my time to hang. I am wrong. That is still hours away. Now it is time for my last interview. My hands are bound so I can’t cover or touch myself during the event. I sit on the steel bench that doubles as my bed. A studly-looking man stands outside my cell. His name is ‘Spike’ Sharp from the Crux Chronicle.

He talks to me as it a perfectly normal thing to be interviewed the day I am to be hanged naked before a drunken crowd and then my body is roasted for the archbishop’s feast. He pulls out a huge camera and places a flash bulb in a round reflector. I didn’t know they still made flashbulbs!
He asks me spread my legs. What the hell does it matter? There will be hundreds of phones with cameras taking pictures of me while I am hanged naked before the mob. I spread my legs propping my feet on the bench. Sharp takes several pictures. I don’t have to ask if he likes what he sees. I can see the bulge in the crotch of his pants as he photographs my loins.

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I hope he’s happy with the pictures. I won’t be around for a re-shoot…


-Savannah
 
My minutes are rapidly fading. One of the guards who actually treated me with a bit of respect comes and says “They will be fetching you soon, Savannah. What is set to happen will happen. Show yourself with pride. You didn’t choose to be a sow.”

Indeed I have not but I know he is being honest with me. I say “You never forced me to have sex with you. Why is that? Every other guard has.”

“This is my job. For recreation I prefer fishing” he says with a shrug.

I drop to my knees next to the cell bars and order him to come closer. I reach through and open his trousers. I’m pleased to find his cock is almost erect. I stroke it and it points at my face. He grunts “You don’t have to do this Savannah.”

“Consider it my last request” I say before I take him into my mouth.
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I don’t think he notices I am fingering myself with my other hand. The old coot comes before I do. I suck all his cum down. He sighs and says “That is the best I’ve ever had. I’m going to miss you, Savannah. You don’t deserve what they are doing to you.”

‘No shit’ I think as we hear footsteps approaching. He stuffs his cock into his pants as a matron calls “Is the sow ready to hang?”
He smiles and nods. I think my time is up.


In the final moments in my cell my wrists are locked in irons behind my back.
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The matron leads me down the corridor.
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The other inmates are handcuffed to the bars of their cells and watch as I pass.
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Behind me I hear one say “I’m glad I’m not her!”

Her cellmate says “It is just not today. Your skinny ass might be their bacon tomorrow.”

I don’t take any comfort from those thoughts. Before I leave this hellhole a collar is locked around my neck with a heavy chain attached to lead me. There is a raised walkway so the damn drunks have a good view of me as I approach the gallows.
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I hope they don’t notice I have crapped down my legs…

-Savannah
 

Some take it with resignation that their number came up to others like Ms. Moore who swears she has been framed. The noose will shut her up. From left to right the first batch of sows are hoisted up and hanged. When it is Barb Moore’s turn to be hanged she lets out an obscenity-laced diatribe that she was not randomly chosen as a sow to be cooked but was set up to get rid of her. As her feet leave the gallows’ deck her screaming ceased. That didn’t silence her completely. She squawks and gasps for a quarter hour as the noose slowly strangles her. Barb puts on a great dance while she slowly hangs to death above the appreciative crowd!

Geez, Tree! Not again? Haven't you learned yet that nothing will ever shut me up? No amount of cruxing, noosing, roasting, even your most demented forms of humiliation will ever quash my rebellious spirit. So go on, string me up again. See if I care! Blahhhhhhhhhhhh

Oiikkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk .... gasp ... groan
 
Geez, Tree! Not again? Haven't you learned yet that nothing will ever shut me up? No amount of cruxing, noosing, roasting, even your most demented forms of humiliation will ever quash my rebellious spirit. So go on, string me up again. See if I care! Blahhhhhhhhhhhh

Oiikkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk .... gasp ... groan
She has great staying presence... really!!!
 
On with the show…

I am ‘back stage’ now after being paraded through the drunken crowd. The collar with the chain lead is removed as are the cuffs binding my wrists behind my back. One of the guards wants to tie my wrists with a rope. Angrily I ask “Are you my hangman? No? I will not let you bind me! I will go up on my own.”

The stairs up to the platform are well lit. This is not for my benefit but for the entertainers and their crews’ safety. I climb them as best I can on my wobbling legs.
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As I near the top I look up and see a gallows has been placed at the center front of the stage. Swaying from it is an empty noose waiting for my neck. A strange arousal fills me and my loins become warm and wet… and no, I am not pissing!
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At the top of the steps I am greeted by this scrappy looking guy call ‘Tree’. He smiles and says “I did not picture you as a willing sacrificial lamb, Savannah.”

“I never pictured me as sow for the archbishop’s banquet. Can we get this over with” I ask. Tree guides me up a short set of steps, over a small platform, and onto a stool. As he begins tying my wrists I look down and realize I am standing for the last time of my life.
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It probably didn’t take that long but when you are being bound standing bare before a few thousand rowdy drunks that are yelling lewd remarks while the noose hangs before my face it seems like an eternity. He finishes tying my wrists and lights up a cigarette. He sees me flex my hands and says “I know the rope is tight but you won’t notice it in a little bit when the noose is choking you.”
Some fucking comfort that thought is.

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I am standing on a stool a few meters above a mob that is here just to watch me hang. Before me the noose sways waiting for my neck. Logic says ‘just get this done, Savannah’ while emotions tell me I don’t want this to happen.
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Emotions lose out as Tree pulls the rope over my head and tightens the noose enough that there is no escape. Don’t tell anyone I came as he pulled down the knot.
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The platform is pulled away and I stand alone before a thousand people waiting for the stool to be pulled from beneath my feet. Fear, anxiety, and even arousal fill me as I breathe my last breaths. The caress of the rope around my throat is only overcome by the moisture oozing from my pussy. A neatly attired official reads my death certificate. My time of death is ten minutes from now…

Another ratty looking guy follows him. He is introduces as the Reverend Lynch and prays that I suffer horribly as I hang so my sins of life can be purged before my body is consumed by the most holy Archbishop Wragg and his guests. Part of me wants him to shut the hell up while the other part prays he keeps talking until the noose rots away!
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-Savannah
 

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Savannah’s wish that the noose rots away does not come true. She looks at the rotored drone hovering around her and knows her hanging will be the top view on the web tonight.
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Somewhere above the crowd’s chatter she hears a motor reeling in the rope of the noose. She rises onto the balls of her feet but knows she is about to hang.
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Her toes leave the stool and she looks out at the crowd below and swears she will die with graceful dignity.
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The rope is crushing my throat! Damn it let this be done!

-Savannah

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Seconds later her body overwhelms her mind. Savannah begins to thrash as the noose closes around her neck.
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She doesn’t know it but her throes really please the crowd.

I am choking to death and these bastards are cheering! Damn it, I am dying!

-Savannah

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The last few minutes of Savannah’s life is a futile struggle to survive the noose.
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She kicks her last and surrenders to the noose.
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She puts up a good show…
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They always lose… I’ll miss her…

Tree

I have to write an epilogue...

Damn...
 
Savannah put on a good show as she was hanged before the crowd. She fought off death for more than 20 minutes before she gave up to the noose. They left her body hanging for a full hour before taking it down. Her body was spitted and two servants carried her to the roasting pit.
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Savannah looks alive as she is placed over pit. Don’t worry- if she wasn’t dead from being hanged the spit would have done her in.
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Chefs Julie and Melissa toiled for hours roasting Savannah’s body.
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She roasted up very nicely due to the two chefs’ attention.
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All that is left to do is the browning of Savannah’s body.
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“Don’t be concerned about the thermometer stuffed up Savannah’s ass. That will come out and a huge fricking carrot will take its place. It’s is a good thing Savannah is dead because it is a really big carrot” Melissa explains.
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So that is what happened in Cruxton when Savannah visited at the wrong time…

The end…

Tree
 
tree,

You are incorrigible, you know. I just can't stop giving you likes and kudos but I'm certainly not complaining. Interesting how Savannah learns that her goose is cooked before she is!
 
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