Hermione was waiting for her in the Room of Requirement when she walked in. Cho could feel her mistress' gaze resting upon her, sizing her up, measuring every inch of her naked body for the meal she was about to become. It was an altogether different feeling from her first brush with becoming meat earlier in the week. She wasn't going to survive this one, she didn't even know what Hermione had planned for her!

Cho was more aroused than she'd ever thought possible before her mistress bought her. Hermione had kept her promise. Standing here, her mistress' eyes measuring lingering on every inch of her Asian frame from her slightly puffy pussy to her turgid nipples, her gaze brushing over the place she'd been sliced open to retrieve her womb for Hermione and Harry's breakfast, the shining trails of arousal leaking down her inner thighs... Cho couldn't even imagine turning back from this. This was her destiny. She was meat now. And her mistress was clearly ready to guide her through that transformation from girl... into dinner.

Before Cho could say a word to break the almost pregnant silence between the two of them, Hermione raised her wand and muttered a spell, the energy soaring from her want to hit Cho right in the middle of her breast.

She could feel the difference immediately, just from the way that the musty air of the Room of Requirement brushed against her skin. Everything was... more now. It all felt stronger. She was more sensitive. Cho ached to ask her mistress what came next, but Hermione had trained her well. Once she had told her mistress that she wanted to be a doll; the perfectly dutiful and submissive Asian girl that everyone wanted her to be but that no one she knew really was. Hermione had delivered on that dream, and Cho knew better than to speak without her Mistress' bidding. She was a toy now, meat for tonight's dinner with Harry; and neither of those things were meant to speak.

“Very good, Dinner,” Hermione smiled as she strolled over to reward Cho for her diligence with a little shock on her clit from her own wand. Hermione had kept it obviously, though after last night Cho hadn't been certain that she would.

“Nngh!” Cho struggled to hold her moan of pleasure in. Her mistress still hadn't given her leave to speak after all.

“Very good indeed,” Hermione agreed as she ran her fingers down the sumptuous curves to Cho's sides before resting her fingers against the supple side of Cho's behind. “You really have been such a wonderful purchase, Dinner. You're not the first girl I've snuffed, but none of the other girls really needed to be snuffed like you do. You'll never be happy just submitting, will you? A naughty little slut like you?” Hermione asked.

She didn't give Cho a chance to answer. “No, you need to be snuffed, Dinner. I can see it dripping between your thighs, feel it beneath your skin. You want this. Even Luna didn't want it as much as you do,” Hermione accused her.

Cho wanted to defend herself, but she couldn't. Her Mistress hadn't given her leave to speak, and even if she had... Hermione was right. Letting Hermione snuff her, it was the ultimate submission wasn't it? She'd spent all last night thinking about it; what Hermione would do to her; what Cho would let her do... She'd cum harder than she'd ever cum before in her life. She'd cum hard enough to actually knock herself out just from the force of it! And she wasn't just thinking of the way Hermione would tuch her... No, She was fantasizing about being snuffed, of feeling the heat of the oven on her skin, of being disemboweled and beheaded, of having a giant spit forced through her body.... Dozens of fantasies flashed through her head last night all tied together by a single common thread; she hadn't survived a single one.

“You've realized it too, haven't you Dinner? What you really are?”

This time the question was actually a question, an invitation to speak, addressed to her directly.

“Yes Mistress,” Cho nodded. “I'm a dirty little Asian snuffslut, a meatgirl, just like you predicted.”

Hermione smiled, enjoying her candid response. “That's great!” She beamed. “Lets get you started then, there's a long time left till you'll finish cooking for dinner.”

Cho couldn't object, this was after all what she had put herself up for sale for, what she really needed, deep down. She watched as Hermione walked over to the large couch the room had produced and bent down to pick up a pair of modified stocks. Her Mistress wasn't wearing any knickers beneath the skirt of her Hogwarts uniform; she could see her puffy young slit almost as aroused as Cho's own by what was about to happen. Cho couldn't help but stare at the sight until Hermione straightened up and wrested her attention to the contraption in her hands.

It looked like a pair of stocks; two pieces of thick wood bound together by a pair of locks with room for her neck and wrists in between them. There were a set of metal rings threaded through all four corners, and at the top of the locks was a small addition a set of wooden channels meat to accommodate what Cho realized now was a hand operated guillotine. There was a peg that locked the blade in place so that it wouldn't move, and without that, the blade would freely slide into whatever young girl's neck was placed in the stocks, leaving her hands untouched. Cho was staring at the instrument of her own doom.

Hermione pulled the blade free and set it aside, opening the stocks in blatant invitation. Cho knew what her mistress wanted, and she complied, walking forward, the barest trembling in her fingers left to show the fear the device was inflicting in her. Hermione locked her in place, the housing for the blade in front of her, her wrists at neck level and unable to move on their own. She smiled, as her mistress petted her head, her slender fingers running through Cho's raven-black hair to show her approval.

No words were exchanged, none were needed; each of them knew what the other desired of her and each was willing to provide it. For Cho, Hermione provided discipline and demand, while Cho freely offered her submission and her meat. Neither side was unhappy with their side of the bargain.

Cho shuddered as her mistress locked her into place, sealing her fate. The stocks were large enough that Cho's view of her own body was completely obscured by them, her tender breasts, the swelling curves of her hips, her bared and barren cunt, while Cho could probably see the last if she sat down, or contorted into a weird angle, as it was the aged and well worn wood hid them all from her.

Hermione gestured with Cho's wand and four long chains dropped from the ceiling. Another swish and an extended flick and Cho could see them melding into the rings at the corners of her new prison.

Cho didn't ask questions. She was an obedient snuffslut, just like Hermione had wanted when she bought her, but Cho couldn't help but wonder just what her Mistress' plans for her were.

Hermione slid the guillotine blade back into its housing, locking it in place mere centimeters from Cho's throat. Cho swallowed heavily and felt the touch of the blade caressing her, gently, almost like a lover.

Hermione shook her head. “None of that!” she chided, healing the cut with a wave of Cho's own wand. “I want you to keep still, Dinner. I don't want you accidentally bleeding out and cheating me of my prize.”

Cho didn't nod, for fear of touching the blade once more, but her submission to her mistress' will was clear in her eyes.

Hermione smiled and with a swish and a thrust of her wand, Cho was lifted up off her feet by the stocks as the chains retracted into the ceiling; leaving her resting a head above Hermione, with her body exposed at the perfect level for whatever her mistress desired to do to it.

Cho suppressed a shudder as her mistress hooked what felt like a finger into her still dripping cunt. With her sight obscured by the stocks, she'd had no warning of the younger girl's intent, and the surprise only made the sensation of Hermione's finger probing her that much more intense.

“You really do want this, don't you Dinner?” she asked, pumping her finger in and out of Cho's slit without any trouble. “You're wetter than I've ever seen you.”

“Yes,” Cho replied, her words soft so as not to risk the blade before her mistress demanded it, “Mistress.”

“Perfect,” Hermione smiled, enjoying her soon-to-be-meal's submission. “I want you to focus on this moment, Dinner, I want you to think about what's happening, about what's going to happen to you while you marinate for Harry and me... That's why I got you a present.”

Cho shivered at the mischief in her mistress' voice as she announced her gift. This gift was clearly meant more for Hermione's enjoyment than her own. Whatever it was that Hermione had walked out of her view to get, it was almost certainly meant to make her submit even further. Cho breathed in slowly, careful not to cut her throat on the blade in front of her, as she wondered what her mistress had in store for her.

“I think you'll enjoy this just as much as I will, you little snuffslut,” Without any warning, Hermione was right behind her, whispering seductively into her ear as she wrapped a strip of cloth around Cho's face, cutting off her sight. “It's a blindfold, so that you can focus on the important things about tonight, like being delicious, instead of what's going on around you. I'm going to cut you off from everything except for the sensation of the sauce against your skin,” Hermione explained as she tied the blindfold in place.

“Muffalatio!” her mistress cried out, and suddenly Cho's world shrank to just her body and what she could feel. Her eyes cut off, her ears filled with white noise, her nose only able to smell the delicious and familiar smelling sauce that Hermione had just mentioned but which she couldn't quite identify... Cho couldn't even move for fear of bleeding out, her feet were off the floor, her ands locked in place beside her neck. She was helpless in every way possible. With no more self-determination than a piece of art hung on the wall... or a piece of meat hung out for display.

Cho struggled not to tremble as she felt her mistress' warm hand begin to slather sauce across he body, sliding down her arms, cupping her breasts, pinching and twirling her nipples. They traced around her neck, down her sides, thoroughly coating her pert quidditch-playing butt and slipping around her thighs and down her legs, slowly teasing her until every place on Cho's body was coated in sauce save for the junction between Cho's thighs.

Hermione was talking, telling her something, but Cho couldn't hear it through her spell. She was helpless as she dangled in the room, unable to tell what was going on. Was Harry there? Watching her? Had Hermione invited the Ravenclaw Quidditch team to watch their seeker's debasement? Cho didn't know. She couldn't know! And the possibility was making her wet like almost nothing else...

Cho almost cut herself on the blade before her when she felt her mistress' fingers teasing her sensitive folds, coating them in tangy, tingling sauce. She was close, so close to cumming...

With a shuddering breath Cho came, desperately trying to control herself as Hermione's fingers coated her clit with the sauce that the both knew would be the last thing she ever wore. Her eyes were shuttered, but she could feel her mistress' fingers as they dived inside her treasure, spreading the sauce all across the inside of her sopping, aching, cumming, cunt.

It tingled, and Cho wanted to ignore it, but there was nothing else to focus on! Nothing to watch, nothing to listen to; just the tangy aching probing of Hermione's fingers inside her slowly spreading her sauce to every nook and cranny of Cho's super-sensitive snatch, each quick caress prolonging Cho's already almost torturous climax!

She was being marinated, basted, really. The sauce was tingling on her skin, in her privates, tenderizing her as it worked its way into her flesh, changing her flavor for her mistress' meal later that night.

The sensations were building on each other, rising higher and higher until what was once a mere tingling felt like intense pins and needles all across her body, and heaped upon her poor clit.

Hermione hadn't muffled her, hadn't robbed her of her speech with a spell, but it didn't matter, the sauce had reduced her to a mewling, groaning, panting mess, unable to even concentrate hard enough to utter a single intelligible word.