She lies supine on the preparation table, naked if courae, as I ready my various instruments in anticipation of the feast ahead.
Her closed eyelids barely flutter as I part her shapely slim legs. The drug-induced coma a necessary act of mercy for the acts that would befall her lovely body.
I trace my fingers down her mons, and part her shaven nether lips to reveal her sensitive nub hidden under it's protective hood, which will soon be powerless to my assault.
I pleasure that clit with my tongue and collect the juices that flow out into a sauce dish. When fully engorged and out of the protection of the clitorial hood, a pair of fine lacquered chopsticks hold on to that nub of female flesh, readying it to yield to the kiss of stainless steel.
With the sharpest blade in the kitchen, the clitoris comes off, hood and all. A quick dip into the dish of love juices, and then placed on my tongue.
As I close my mouth around the severed clitoris, I savor the explosion of flavors that ignite my tastebuds. I keep the clit in my mouth, grateful for the experience of holding in my mouth what used to be a comely woman's most treasured part, and now sitting on my tongue and destined to be devoured.
With the dying clit deflated and dry of all further flavors, it is nothing more than a morsel of meat: to be chewed up and ground by my teeth.
A quick swallow.
And it's perhaps tragically anti-climatic that one could hardly feel the remains of a battered piece of female sex going down one's throat.
But other delights await...
I turn my gaze to the inner lips and run my fingers over the slick secretion coated surface. I marvel at the velvety texture that is the side leading into a woman's sex. Holding a lip between my fingers, I reach for the same knife and proceed to part the flap of flesh from the vagina in an unhurried manner.
There is no need to rush. On the contrary, this rare opportunity to consume intimate flesh should be savoured, every millisecond of it.
The first lip - the left one - goes on a bed of rice, dipped into the dish of pussy juices and fed to my waiting mouth. A shame that the lip proves a little rubbery, requiring a fair bit of concerted chewing before it is ready to be swallowed.
The right lip is better. Once parted from the fillet, I bring out my sharpest blade and make fishbone cuts on the soft pink side of the labia. A small dollop of wasabi, rolled within the flap of flesh.
And yet there's more to be enjoyed. But what comes next will be quite messy.
Another blade selected, and three deliberate cuts made: one across the top of the vulva, and another two at each side connected at the perineum. The initial cuts do nothing more than to mark out where the cuts need to go deeper. I slice further in, widening the wounds that now frame the quivering fillet.
I work my blade gently into the yielding young woman's crotch, pulling back flaps of flesh and slicing towards the vaginal passage. I select a long sharp blade and start coring out the vagina.
A gentle pull at the fillet, and it leaves it home between that pair of slim legs. That triangular fillet is connected to a tubular section of flesh: a vaginal passage now resting in the palm of my hands, cut off where the cervix should be.
A quick trip to the sink to rinse off the disembodied sex, I take care not to rinse out the inside to preserve the flavors that secretions provide.
I place the meat on a filleting board and marvel at my handiwork. Aside from the raw wounds where the clit and labia used to be, the young vulva still looks healthy, pink and inviting. And I hunger for more.
Placing a blade at the vaginal entrance close to where the clit used to be, I slice upwards, parting the inverted triangle at the top. I slice again down the length of the vaginal tube. Sitting back, I see that lovely fillet, split in half, with the vaginal passage now cut down the length. I unfurl the tube of fresh vagina meat, laying the most secret space of a woman open and exposed to the world. It is a sight to behold: the smooth pink walls of a pussy, previously enveloped privileged penises, now waiting to become food. I trace a finger down the length of the delightful pink passage, and end at a raised ridged bump of flesh. Like the clitoris now digesting in my stomach, the girl's G-spot will provide pleasure no more.
Back to my sharpest filleting blade, I make razor thin slices out of the vaginal passage. Lifting a slice up against the light, it looks semi transparent - testament to the sharpness of the knife and of course, my skill as well.
I artfully arrange the thin slices of vagina around the halves of the fillet, my ego swelling with pride at the deftness of my hands. I consume the thin slices with the sauce of secretions, not wanting rice or noodles to detract or spoil the taste of a freshly prepared pussy. The meat is firm and lean - coming from a well cared for pussy, how can it not be?
I eat the girl's vagina passage, musing at how this flesh that had enveloped my penis before, I now bit by bit being enveloped by my stomache. And only the fillet remains.
Now no longer connected to the tube of muscular cunt meat - now slowly being digested - the fillet is separated into two halves, split down the middle from the top of the mons to the vagina entrance. It lies on the plate, waiting to be eaten.
The two halves had come apart through the course of the meal, and I push them back together to form a whole prime cut of a woman's secret flesh again.
A sadness comes over me. My time spent exploring and using this lovely woman's body was all too short. Her pussy will never feel the caresses of eager suiters again. The finality if this meal weighed on me. But only momentarily. What's done is done.
I put a small skillet on a portable stove on low heat, and set these on the dining table. Both halves of the fillet are sliced into thin strips, though not cut as thin as how I'd prepared the vaginal passage. The strips of fillet are interesting, with thin layers of fat laid over the succulent lean and muscular meat. I lay the first strip of cunt sashimi on my tongue, and slowly chew and enjoy the mix of textures of fat and flesh.
A gentle sizzle rises as I place a small pat of butter on the skillet. I lay a few strips of pussy fillet in the gently sizzling pool of butter. I marvel as the colour turns as the intimate flesh cooks. It is a sacrilege to overcook such a prized cut, I lift the strips off and let them cool before eating them. The taste is nothing short of heaven, and I eat with great enthusiasm, alternating between strips of sashimi and seared cunt.
The fillet and vaginal passage are now gone. A wonderful meal that had far exceeded my expectations.
I lean over the unconscious naked woman, and kiss her on her forehead and thank her for her meat. She is beautiful, even with the gaping void between her legs.
Her breasts are unmarred. I decide to keep them.
The soft left breast fills my hand as I take firm hold of it to cut it off. The breast moves with every sawing stroke of the knife, and there is little bleeding. Not surprising, considering the state the woman is in. She is beyond protesting as the blade relentlessly glides through the breast and permanently separates it from her. The final bridge of skin breaks, and the firm tit comes off in my hand.
Cradling the breast, I look at the raw end of the breast and note the fatty tissue and mammary glands within. I turn it over and run my thumb over the nipple - now unresponsive and relaxed in death. I pick up the I knife again, and turn my attention to her remaining tit. Removing the right breast is no less satisfying. Because it is the last breast that the beautiful body has to offer, the opposite is true. The sight of the blade breaking the skin at the base of the breast, the contrast of cold steel moving through the flesh of such a sexy part of the female anatomy, will forever be etched in my mind. With the right breast free, I set the knife down and hold a breast in each hand. They are now slightly cool to the touch, but still a very attractive pair of tits nonetheless. A memory drifts by, one of her with the top of these breasts peeking out from the neckline of a modest evening dress.
As appetising as they look, breasts are not meant to be eaten. I place them down on the dining table and fill two large pickling jars with clear preservation fluid - a new compound that preserves the colour and texture of any organic item. I lower each lovely tit into a jar, the flesh to be forever preserved long after the woman they were formerly attached to is gone. The new owner of these breasts will take great delight toying with these mementoes of an unforgettable day.
With her sex organs in my stomache and both breasts in a jar each, I stroke her hair and bid her goodbye.
Hmm... I prefer my pussy eating victims to be live and squirming as their attackers have their faces completely buried in the victim's crotch.
You forgot the bitch's uterus and ovaries. Don't waste good meat.
I really like your descriptions of the anatomy! I can learn a thing or two from this for sure.
I'm a little sad she wasn't really alive and screaming for all this, but that wouldn't be elegant, would it? Well done, you've shown quite a delicate taste in the womanhood. :)
A wonderful fantasy! I was hoping for some mention of her urethra, though. That's my favorite part to tease when eating pussy IRL. Not complaining.
Very beautiful. I can think of no more to say.
Wow I loved this! There are way too few cannibalism stories that delight in the actual details. It is usually a huge build up, and then they gloss over the eating part.
Have your protagonist eat a dick next ;)
She should be crying and begging as her fuckhole and tits are cut from her. No fun like this.
How about her bladder? Just right above her uterus. It is terrible thing to waste.