Part 3

“Been a while since I did a synchronised spitting!” the girls’ Grandpa chuckled as he took his position behind Becky. His son, their dad, grinned at him as he pushed the oiled tip of the one he was holding into Samantha’s sore, torn and stretched but still tight teen cunt.

“This is it, girls!” their mum beamed as if they were about to go on stage for a school concert rather than be impaled and roasted. “Good luck!”

“Can we just get this over with?” Samantha asked, bitterly. Beside her, Becky was crying silently, gulping as the tears ran down her cheeks. Samantha had, at least, had almost half a year to get used to the idea of what was about to happen to her but Becky was still processing the shock.

“Don’t worry,” their dad tried to comfort her and gave her backside a reassuring pat, “I’ll make it quick!” With no further word, but calls of encouragement both to them and to the girls, the two men began to push the spits into their respective meat-girls. Becky gave a scream as her cervix was pierced but Samantha gritted her teeth and managed not to cry out, trying to focus on the pleasurable feeling of having her teen cunt stretched by the thick, phallic spit, rather than the burning sensation as the spike forced its way through her insides.

“Please stop!” Becky cried out. “I can’t take it!” With a worried look to her husband, her mum came and knelt by her head. Respecting the hand-signal from his daughter-in-law, their grandpa stopped for a moment, holding the spit still to steady it but not pushing any further. “Please, Mummy!” the twelve year old begged. “It hurts so bad! Don’t let them do this! I’ll be good, I promise!”

“You know it’s not about you being good or bad.” her mum stroked her tearful face as their dad continued to push the spit through Samantha. “It’s about making sure everyone has enough to eat! This isn’t a punishment, everyone is very grateful to you and thinks you’re wonderful!”

“But it hurts!” Becky protested like a much younger child, her eyes begging for mercy as intensely as her words. “Please take it out!”

“Well we can’t do that,” her mum told her firmly but kindly, “and anyway, you wouldn’t survive the damage that’s already been done. But perhaps…” She looked up her daughters’ grandpa. “Perhaps we can make it so you don’t have to suffer?”

“Well, it’s not our normal way…” their grandpa stroked his chin with one hand while continuing to steady the spit with the other. “But then, Becky is doing us a big favour, stepping up like this when she wasn’t prepared for it.” Just then, there was a huge cheer from the rest of the family as the spit emerged from Samantha’s mouth. “And I guess everyone’s had the show they were promised!” he mused, as much to himself as to his daughter-in-law.

“What are we thinking?” their dad asked, turning to his father and wife. “Cut her throat first?”

“That would work!” their mum nodded.

“Fun to watch too!” confirmed their grandpa. “Do you want to do the honours?”

“Oh well I…” their mum was unsure for a moment but her husband smiled encouragingly at her.

“I can’t let go of this,” their grandpa explained, indicating the half-inserted spit which he was still holding. And he’s had his fun!” He chuckled as he jerked his head towards his son. “Go on!” He urged as his wife handed his daughter-in-law a large kitchen knife. “Make us all proud!”

“Oh, I suppose if…” she looked down a little uncomfortably at the knife in her hand.

“Do it, Mummy! Please!” the semi-impaled preteen begged. “It hurts so bad!”

“Okay honey.” she sighed, taking hold of her daughter’s hair and pulling her head back to expose her delicate throat. “Be delicious!” Hearing everything going on beside her, Samantha wished that she could turn her head to watch her sister’s throat cut but the spit prevented her from doing so. Instead, she could only watch the reaction of her relatives in front, as well as see some of the frothy blood spray in her peripheral vision as their mum drew the blade across her younger daughter’s throat, cutting deeply.

Becky’s blood drained out quickly onto the grass and with it, her suffering ended. There was almost no pain as the sharp blade bit into her neck and only a few moments of cold and nausea before blissful oblivious claimed her.

“What do we do now?” her mum asked, setting down the bloody knife and letting the head slump forward so that the gaping neck would more or less closed up, blood oozing thickly onto the table below. “Shall I hold it in place so you can get the spit the rest of the way through?” Her father-in-law looked at the dead body of his twelve year old granddaughter appraisingly for a moment or two.

“No.” He said eventually. “Might as well take the head right off with a cleaver. Will make the spitting easier and we can pass it around and have some fun with it while we wait for the meat to cook!” This suggestion seemed to be well-received by the watching relatives and the girls’ grandma quickly disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a large cleaver which she handed to their mum with a smile.

With more confidence this time, now that her little girl was dead, she took the heavy tool and brought it down hard on the back of Becky’s neck. The blade dug in but did not cut deep enough to sever the neck entirely. A second blow quickly followed and on the third, the cut from the back met that from the front and the pretty young head came away in her hand, dangling by its tightly-gripped dirty-blonde hair. This was met by an even bigger cheer than Samantha had received for her spitting, making the teen feel a little jealous as the grandpa pushed his spit the rest of the way through her sister’s carcass so that the spiked tip protruded from her messy neck stump.