The team worked quickly and efficiently, smearing the naked teens from neck to to toe with oil then patting a mixture of dried herbs, rock salt and cracked pepper-corns all over them as, behind them, another altar like the one on which Iphegnia had been sacrificed rose up out of the ground. The one, however, was nearly three times the length and was topped with a bed of real, glowing coals rather than a metal hot-plate. The reliefs carved or moulded around its sides showed scene of the Trojan war, including the horse being brought into the city by its unsuspecting inhabitants, Odysseus and his men slipping out of it and opening the gates then Agamemnon’s army swarming in and sacking the city. At either end of this altar were bronze spits protruding around three feet out of the ground at an angle of around forty-five degrees. Mounted onto the ends of the altar’s top surround were matching bronze handles and on the ground were similar arches that a foot could be slipped under with a curved piece behind to cup the heel.

Once again, once the first team had done their work, a second team appeared with the apparatus needed to remove the hair from their heads so that it would not burn as they cooked. With a dignity befitting the divine nature they portrayed, the two oiled and seasoned goddesses, their heads now as smooth as the mouth-watering fillets between their legs, approached the altar, Artemis to the left, from Nep and Rowan’s perspective, and Athena to the right. First slipping their feet under the arches then positioning them so that their heels were against the back plates, both girls carefully lowered themselves onto the sharp, waiting spits which extended a good ten inches inside their bodies. Both girls winced as the spits forced their way through their cervix and into their uterus but neither cried out or gave any other sigh of distress. They were meant to be goddesses after all, offering themselves as a sacrifice, and the self-impalement was a sign of their willingness in making their offering. Breathing heavily and trying to relax around the thick, bronze intruders, both girls gripped the handles at their respective ends of the altar and a mechanical, rumbling sound started up.

It was difficult for the audience to notice what was happening at first but they quickly worked out, as much from the way the girls squirmed and straightened their backs as much as anything else, that the spits were working their way up inside them, pushed by some unseen force from below. At around the same moment, both girls began to cough as if they had something stuck in their throat then the spits erupted out of their mouths, pushing down their tongues and scraping against their teeth until they came to a stop with about twelve inches visible in front of each girl. With the audience watching in awe, a second, much thinner spike began to rise out of the ground an inch or so behind each spit. These spikes, the caterers carefully guided into each girl’s anus to serve as a stabiliser. The angle of both spit then began to change, with the mechanical mount of each rising up behind them and lifting the spit horizontal, the girls still holding onto the handles for the moment but shifting their feet out of the floor-stirrups.

Once the spits were fully horizontal. The caterers lifted the girls’ legs level with it and tied their ankles to the spit with the same golden rope that had been used to tie Gemma’s behind her head. Then they tied their wrists behind their backs and used the remainder of the rope to connect wrists to ankles so that the arms of the roasting girls would not flop about too much as they turned. With another mechanical rumbling, scraping sound the spits moved forward so that the girls were now suspended over to coals, the tips of their respective spits just inches from each other, then they began to turn.

Inside the horse, the pre-teen girls squirmed with pleasure against their bonds, the inside of the effigy bombarding them with heat from all sides as they were constantly misted with a fine mix of water and seasoned oil, both to keep them moist as they cooked but also to ensure the most delicious possible flavour for their meat.

“Did you see Nep’s face when we came out!” Suzi giggled in a soft voice which never the less resonated around the inside of the glowing orange chamber so that Gemma could easily hear. “I thought he was gonna pass out!”

“I bet he’s looking forward to your tits!” Gemma grinned. “Do you think he’ll have both of them or share one with his girlfriend?” They both giggled, Suzi clearly understanding that her friend was referring to the young woman who was playing his wife in a professional capacity.

“I bet he keeps both our pussies for himself!” Suzi declared. “Good job we both have plenty of other good meat to share!”

“Did you notice how everyone was looking at our asses!” exclaimed Gemma. “Makes me wonder how long all our friends have been wishing they could eat us!”

“I can’t believe we managed to keep this a secret!” Suzi grinned proudly. “I felt sure my mum or yours would spill the beans!”

“I told my mum if she spoiled the surprise she wouldn’t get any of my meat!” Gemma giggled. “That shut her up pretty well!” They both relaxed in happy silence for a few minutes. “How long before we’re done, do you think?”

“Not sure.” Suzi admitted. “I can’t really feel my hands and feet already but I don’t know if that’s from the cooking or just the position.”

“My skin’s stopped tingling.” Gemma observed thoughtfully. “Like, doesn’t feel like it’s burning any more. Do you even feel hot?”

“Not really.” Suzi replied, thinking about it for the first time. “Just kinda dizzy. Not tired exactly but…”

“I know what you mean.” Gemma assured her, although neither girl could quite come up with the right words to describe how they were feeling. Never having been roasted alive before, they lacked a frame of reference for the sensations.

“We’re gonna taste so good!” Suzi gave a contented sigh. “Wish I could watch while they carve us up and serve us out!”

“Me too!” Gemma agreed wistfully. “I think I’m just gonna, you know, go to sleep now?”

“Yeah.” Suzi agreed. “Good idea. Me too. Sweet dreams!” she spoke softly and lovingly to her friend. “See you on the plate!”

In the pot, the Three Graces were also starting to succumb to the heat. To keep the audience entertained while their feast cooked, other members of the theatre group performed for them, a mixture of dances from the girls, battle re-enactments from the boys and comedic skits from mixed groups. The caterers, however, all kept close eyes on their assigned cooking stations and, one by one, the two men assigned to watch the stew saw the young teens lose consciousness. Without making a spectacle of it, the first man took a short, thin-bladed knife with a sharp end, more like a stiletto dagger than a kitchen knife, and thrust it hard into the side of the neck of each girl, severing their jugular vein. The slow way the blood oozed out to invisibly merge with the already dark red liquid that was the base of the stew showed that, if their hearts were still beating at all, it was incredibly slowly and they would certainly not be for long. Once he had administered this coups de grace to all three, the other man worked his way around with his own knife, one that looked like an upholsterer’s or carper-fitter’s tool and used it to cut around each girl’s hairline before ripping their hair off like a wig and pushing their scalped carcass down into the stew. Once all three had received the necessary treatment, the two men carefully lifted the marble-effect lid and placed it over the top, holes around its circumference allowing steam to escape, so that the stew would now cook more intensely and the bodies inside would break down.

For the first twenty minutes or so of their roasting, the two goddesses shamelessly and enthusiastically humped their spits, determined to not only be delicious for the audience but to put on a great show while they cooked. Not to mention wanting to enjoy the final half our or so of their short lives as much as possible! Eventually, however, they two began to feel weak and their aggressive humping slowed to a gentle, comforting rock and eventually they too fell still. At a signal from one of the caterers, the first altar was raised up once more, just behind the larger one, this time with two glowing braziers mounted upon it. Sweet, incense-infused smoke rose from each. With big, incredibly sharp knives designed to look like Greek swords, two of the caterers cut around the goddess’s necks then severed their spines with a heavy blow from the swords before sliding their heads off the ends of the spits and placing them inside the braziers so that their flesh would burn away leaving their skulls intact.

Finally, it was time for the feat to begin! With the pull of a lever, the bed of coals was lowered down to the base of the altar so that the heat radiating upwards would keep the meat warm but would not burn it, nor make things too uncomfortable for the caterers who carved and served the delicious goddesses. The side of the horse was opened and the roasted girls retrieved from inside. Suzie was laid out on a long platter while Gemma was served up on a round one, Gemma surrounded by roasted vegetables and Suzi on a bed of salad. Both were placed carefully on Iphegnia’s altar, between the two braziers in which the blackened flesh was cracking and falling away from the skulls of the two spit-roasters. The lid of the stew was lifted off as carefully as it had been put on and now all the food was ready to serve.

As guest of honour, of course, Nep was first to be served but instead of his food being given to him on one of the golden paper plates that the rest of the audience would be eating from, he and Rowan were given a large oval, real metal platter to carry between them and to share from. Of course the centre-piece if this dish were one breast from each goddess, the other having been reserved for their respective mothers at their request, although each one was plenty big enough to share, and both of Suzi’s much smaller, perky little proto-tits, one on either side, along with the fillets of all four roasted girls arranged like a shamrock and of course generous slices of rump and thigh meat from all. In a separate bowl they were given a large helping of the Three Graces stew along with golden metal spoons and a whole load of crusty bread to enjoy it with. Any remaining space on the platter was filled with vegetables and salad then the pair very cautiously, anxious not to spill anything, made their way back up the steps to the thrones where the slave-girl still reclined languidly to enjoy their feast.


To be continued - one more major set-piece to come!