Spitted and Cooked
by Abbacor
It’s been six months since our friend Kevin ‘roasted’ his wife Woody on a spit. She wasn’t really cooked alive. Woody had been tied to the spit and the fire was low enough and off to one side a bit so Woody was actually never really harmed. Still, I nearly had an orgasm while it looked like Woody was slowly turning over the fire, and Bobby noticed.
We had several discussions about it, and how someone could potentially take it a step further. Since then Bobby has been doing some research and won’t tell me or let me see what he is working on. I love it when he gets like that because I know my Master is researching something new to do to his slave. Bobby is my husband, but he is also my Master. I willingly assume the subservient slave role whenever he utters the catch phrase that lets me know another session is going to begin. He always keeps our limits in mind with whatever he does, but our boundaries have expanded over the years we have been together. Things that neither of us would have even contemplated happening in the beginning have come to pass, and some of them would be considered torture or severe abuse if the law ever found out. Yet I let him do those things willingly of my own free will. In the past couple of years we have gotten ideas from other Masters and gone further than what we saw being done, testing both our limits and how far the scene we watched can actually be pushed.
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Today, Bobby told me we were going on a trip to the Far East and we would be gone ‘for a while’. Then he uttered the phrase “The time has come to speak of many things.” That’s my cue that I am to be the slave on this trip. We are going to leave in two weeks, and I know my work has been told we are going to see another specialist concerning my ‘condition’. This is our way of keeping our employers from getting suspicious when I show back up with injuries requiring bandages, braces, or casts. They think I have weak bones and am easily injured or have operations to correct some condition. I have actually had several operations performed on me with hardware being implanted in my body either temporarily or permanently so I have numerous scars to show off on various parts of my body. As for what’s coming on this trip I won’t find out until it happens. I’m just the slave and it is not my place to question my Master. Although I can guess from a few previous trips to the same part of the world and Bobby saying we will be gone ‘for a while’ that I will be in the hospital again for what he has planned. It’s not exceedingly difficult to find a doctor or surgeon who is willing to perform some un-necessary procedure on a person if you look hard enough and Bobby is good at looking.
The date of the trip finally comes and I see that my bags are rather light on clothes. Another clue that I am going to be undergoing another surgical procedure. I wonder to myself what it will be this time but I don’t let Bobby know what I am thinking. We leave the U.S. on our plane without any problems, mainly because we don’t ‘do’ the public Master/slave routine outside of certain circles. We have found it can cause too many problems to openly show that side of our relationship all the time. Although I do still keep in mind that I am now the slave and if you were to watch us for any length of time you might notice several small things I do that would make you think something different might be happening. We’ve actually gotten a small number of people come up and discretely ask us about it from time to time. One of the couples we talked to at length joined our circle of friends later on and have been happily doing their own Master/slave thing since then.
Our flight finally ended and I found we were in Bangkok once again. Now I was certain I’d be in the hospital for most of our stay here. Bobby has brought me here each time he had something special he wanted to do. We checked into a local hotel for the night near a hospital I’ve been a patient at before. It was already late local time so Bobby had a light dinner while I was only allowed water, and I knew it was in preparation for my upcoming surgery that would undoubtedly happen tomorrow. I was woken up early the next morning and told to wash and shave everything below my neck. This was actually an easy task as I tend to keep things shaved for the most part normally. All I have to do was shave off the small patch of pubic hair I had and make sure everywhere else was smooth. We then proceeded to the hospital and Bobby checked me in as a patient as I suspected would happen. When the surgeon came to talk to us Bobby told me to stay in the waiting area while he went with the doctor to his office, most likely to discuss the final preparations for what ever he had planned. When they returned there were a couple of orderlies accompanying them and I was placed on a gurney and wheeled off for the pre-surgery prep.
All the usual bio work was done. Blood drawn for tests, heart rate/pulse measurements taken, EKG measured, basically the works. This took all morning, and I was finally rolled into the actual surgery prep room a little before one in the afternoon. From there I was given a shot of a sedative and once that took effect I was rolled into surgery, a gas mask was placed over my mouth and nose, and I fell asleep counting backwards from one-hundred.
When I finally woke up again there was pain emanating from several places. I could not ask any questions as there was an endotracheal tube down my throat and a respirator was doing my breathing for me with a neck brace holding my head still so I just lay there and enjoyed the mild pain I was feeling and trying to determine what might have been done. I could feel pain from my arms around the wrist or forearm area, and from my legs down near the ankles in my lower legs. There was also some mild discomfort that I almost didn’t notice from my torso and back but it seemed lighter in comparison. With the breathing tube down my throat I almost missed an additional area of discomfort, but I eventually recognized a separate pain in my throat outside of the feeling of the tube. What ever had been done there, it was probably the reason for the respirator. I could move my limbs around, so no casts this time which was nice and disappointing at the same time. I carefully felt around and did find I had some fairly heavy bandaging on my arms and legs around the areas I had pain so I was not able to tell by feeling the surgical sites what may have been done. I also found I had a feeding tube going up my nose which I didn’t even notice until I felt it with my fingers. One thing that really confused me though was the position they were keeping my head in. The brace was keeping my head tilted back so that if I were standing up I would be looking up at about a forty-five degree angle. I was also pretty sure I had a catheter going up inside my urethra to my bladder too.
A nurse showed up at some point to check on me and found me awake, but did not talk to me. Later a doctor came in and inspected the neck brace for some reason. When I thought they were done and would leave me I got another surprise. What felt like a plastic body brace with thick fuzzy padding on it was carefully slid underneath my back then a front part with the same padding got placed on my front and connected to the back part. When I felt and saw them fit a metal ring around my head and rubber-tipped positioning posts were tightened down around my head in three places I realized what they were doing. They were fitting me with a halo ring and brace!
Bobby and I had talked about trying out a halo-brace a couple times before, but we had never gone through with it, and it had been at least a year since the last time the subject was brought up so this was a bit of a surprise and would be my first time having to wear one. Once the ring was in place they marked the insertion sites for the pins by taking a small light and shining it straight through the holes they wanted to use and marking the spot on my head. By the time they were done they had marked eight spots around my head. Then they used a hypodermic needle and injected a local pain-killer at each location and waited about five minutes before they began making cuts with a scalpel at each location and applying pressure with gauze pads to stop the bleeding. Once they finished with the scalpel they started screwing the titanium pins through the ring by hand to the point where they entered the incisions in my skin and made tight contact with my skull. Then they started tightening the pins in pairs using a tool, doing the pins located on opposite sides of my head at the same time until all eight had been tightened down to what-ever had been decided on as the ‘proper’ PSI, or pound per square inch. After securing the ring to my head they began assembling the rest of the halo super-structure from the ring outwards so they could maintain the position of my head just the way they wanted it, and they finally finished off with the four up-right support bars being the last part added on and getting connected to the support harness that had been strapped to my torso. When the Halo had been tightened down the neck brace was removed and they left.
I later found out that I was kept in a chemically induced light coma for about three days. Bobby got to stay in the room with me for the next two weeks, which was nice as he could keep me company and keep me from going out of my mind from boredom by reading me books or just talking at me. It was kind of hard for him to talk with me since I could not talk back seeing as how I was kept on the respirator the entire time. Of course there were plenty of times he just left me there for hours at a time while he went out and enjoyed the city both day and night, he was the Master after all on this trip and my wants came second to his, even in my enfeebled state. But he kept me entertained in many ways. Verbally at first, then as the days wore on he physically teased me as well; which considering the surgeries that had been done he had to be careful and didn’t leave much he could tease, but he got as creative as he could.
Eventually the time came for sutures to be removed. I had been weaned off the respirator during the last couple of days so I was able to breath on my own and could eat without being fed through a tube, although I was still only being given soft foods and a protein supplement shake for proper nutrition. I was knocked out for the procedure and when I awoke I found myself still wearing bandages and I still had the halo in place. At least my head had been re-positioned so that I was looking forward again, and we were heading home. I over-heard Bobby talking with the doctor about the medical documentation that would be sent home with us indicating the reasons for my current condition to be given to our doctors and insurance at home so I knew I would be in this halo for a while longer. Bobby was going to be keeping me helpless for some time to come apparently, and he still hadn’t told me anything about what had really been the purpose of this trip. While moving me around I would get some very odd sensations if I moved just the right way that indicated something unusual had been done to me, and I was beginning to think something has been surgically placed inside my body. It was a mystery that Bobby was keeping to himself, but I knew that when the time was right he would let me know about it.
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Time passed and I remained helplessly immobilized in the Halo for six months, then it was removed and switched out for a similar but removable brace and the inevitable physical therapy started in earnest. Therapy continued on for a couple of months to strengthen my neck. The bandages on my arms and legs were removed after just a couple of weeks and I had a hard time finding the scars from what had been done.
One thing I was absolutely positive about was that there was something inside of me now. Multiple something’s in fact. During the last few months Bobby and I had not been celibate by any means. While pregnancy was carefully avoided, sex was a definite in our lives. And the odd sensations I’d gotten during sex told me I had some kind of permanent “something” inside me now. I’d actually asked Bobby about it, but he purposely told me not to ask about it again and I would be told when it was time. I didn’t ask again, but I did explore my own body when I was alone. I found that I had something round and possibly hollow in five different places inside my body. I found that in each of my fore-arms and each of my lower calves there was something there that seemed to go all the way through the limb and between the bones at an angle. My skin had been sutured to heal over whatever these were which completely hid them from view. There were practically no external signs of their presence; a talented plastic surgeon’s skill and extremely small sutures were used to keep the scarring to practically nil. I also found a similar situation in my crotch between my anus and vaginal openings. That was the source of the odd sensations I’d get during sex. I couldn’t tell what they were, and my best guess said they were non-medical in origin as their feel and placement had zero medical use as far as I could tell. Especially since they were all covered over with my own flesh.
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Several more months went by, and autumn was coming around to barbecue season again. Bobby asked if I’d like to have a pig-roast at our place this year, and of course I agreed.
Then he asked “Ellen, how would you like to be the main course this year?”
I stopped for a minute and looked at him, then asked how that would be possible. Would it be like when Woody was roasted I wondered? This is when Bobby finally chose to tell me what had been done in Bangkok. I was told that he had surgical quality Teflon tubes implanted into my arms and legs, and one implanted into my body along the inside of, and secured to, my spine. He had talked with several doctors both before and after the surgery, and believed he could safely impale me on an actual spit instead of just tying me onto one like had been done with Woody.
I was speechless for all of thirty seconds before I started asking questions about safety. In short, the tubing would provide a safe track for the spit to run through, and he would also use a stiffer than normal burlap basting wrap to cover my body which would also help provide support to keep me on the spit as I turned. Then I asked where the spit would emerge at the top of my body, as I had not found the top end of the tube that had been implanted in my torso. He told me that a hole had been cut out at the top of my esophagus (shaped like an oval), the top end of the tube had been sutured to the hole, and a permanent patch like is used when patching a hole between the left and right side of the heart had then been sutured in place covering the opening to the tube. The spit would have to puncture the patch, then would come up through and emerge out of my mouth. He also told me that this was probably going to create some rather odd looking scars on my wrists and ankles where the spit went through my body.
If I decided to go through with this, then he had some tentative appointments scheduled with ‘discreet’ doctors for only a day or two afterwards to repair any damage done to my arms and legs. Of course due to the open tube in my throat, I would not be able to eat or drink anything at all so an appointment would happen within twenty-four hours following the barbecue to repair the patch in my throat. To replace the throat patch, I would be on a feeding tube for at least a month afterwards to give the new patch time to heal. I would have to decide whether or not I wanted to have the teflon tubes taken from my body afterwards, and removing them would require another trip out of the country with major surgery again.
I wanted to know, besides being impaled, how I would otherwise be secured to the metal rod going through various parts of my body. He told me that he had some modified clamps with rods made that would be secured to the spit so that where my arms and legs would be positioned a cross bar would be positioned so that I would be tied down at my knees and elbows for additional support while I was rotated. For where the spit would come out of my mouth, I was worried about chipping or even knocking out some of my teeth. To keep me from biting down on the metal spit, Bobby had already modified a hard rubber ball-gag by expanding the breather hole to accommodate the spit and cut some shallow grooves for my teeth.
I also asked about clean up afterwards, and eliminating the risk of infections. He told me that once I was taken off the spit, the tube in my torso would be flushed out with sterile water first then ointment containing anti-bacterial and pain-killer medications would be swabbed around the openings. The same would then be done with the other four tubes in my arms and legs, and the openings of all the tubes (with the exception of the one in my throat) would be bandaged over until I went to the doctors to have the wounds taken care of.
After a long and frank discussion about how this would go, I agreed. Bobby had taken serious considerations for my safety and convinced me that it would work. He was also adamant that this was completely my choice. There would be no Master/slave decisions for this one.
We set a date and sent out invitations to our friends who would appreciate an ‘alternate’ pig-roast. We did not give out any details about just how far we had gone this time so it would be a surprise for almost everyone when I was carried out and they could see I was actually impaled. I hand carried a special invitation to Woody and Kevin. We would need a bit of assistance for this and the two of them were brought in on our little secret surprise.
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The day finally arrived and I prepared myself by taking a long shower to get extra clean. The day before I took a laxative then had Bobby give me an enema to clean out my bowels, and I had nothing but liquids after that so I would not need to be concerned about needing to have a bowel movement while I was turning over the fire. I also took a prescription pain killer about thirty minutes before I was to be impaled to lessen the pain of having the spit pierce my flesh.
Standing in my bathrobe in the kitchen with Kevin and Woody there, Bobby asked one more time if I was sure I wanted to go through with this. We had an actual pig that was really going to be roasted over a second fire for everyone to enjoy, and I could call this off with no worries. My answer was to drop my robe, climb up on the counter, and put the ball-gag in my mouth.
Bobby brought out the spit which had been sterilized and unwrapped it while Woody prepared the gauze pads and ointment to stop any incidental bleeding when I was impaled. Rolling me on my side, Bobby and Kevin lifted one leg and with no warning shoved the spit through the tube in my leg. Before I could even really register what had happened they brought up my other leg and impaled it as well. The tubes has been placed at an angle so that with my knees bent and held side by side my feet would be set one in front of the other. Continuing to push the metal through my legs they positioned the sharp point for the next part and stopped to give me a slight break for a moment.
I tried to move my legs around, but the metal pole going between the bones and through the muscles kept my legs fairly secure and in place. I tried forcing one leg to move and it felt like if I pushed too far I’d probably break a bone. I was rolled over onto my back which brought my knees up in the air, and the location for the opening to the next tube was confirmed. With a short warning the spit pierced my flesh again and proceeded to be pushed up through my body. As it moved up along my spine my body was forced to straighten out and conform to the restrictions it was imposing. The spinal column is not truly straight, it has a natural set of curves to it, but now I was being forced by the rigid metal rod to have a perfectly ramrod straight posture.
Before they reached the top of the tube I was rolled on my side again and my head was tilted back while Bobby removed the gag so he could watch for the point of the rod to come through. The openings of the teflon tubes in my legs and crotch had been covered with my own flesh, so each time there was a sharp pain when the spit was pushed through. The opening in my throat though had been covered with an artificial patch so I did not feel anything when the tip of the spit emerged from the tube and came up out of my mouth. Bobby slid the gag over the pole and down to where I needed to have it in place for me to bite on. With the spit in place and my head bent back like it was, it was a struggle to get the ball in place and I thought for a moment that my jaw was going to be dislocated before my teeth popped into place in the grooves in the rubber and the excess tension on my jaw was mostly relieved. Biting down on the ball I could now hold it in place while the spit continued to be pushed through to the proper length. Turning me onto my back again, my hands were pulled up above my head where Bobby pierced my arms with the spit and a couple of moments later it was done. I was completely impaled on a metal pole going through my legs, torso, and arms.
Woody moved in with the ointment and gauze and everyone took several minutes putting on pressure and salve around the rod where it went through my flesh to stop the bleeding that had been happening. While the rod was still being pushed through it was pulling on my flesh, so they could not stop the bleeding until the spit was fully in place. Thankfully the bleeding has been minimal and they got it stopped in just a few minutes. Attaching the extra clamps in place so they locked onto the spit, my limbs were tied down and I was now completely immobilized. The support rod at my knees extended out to one side and came up between them so they were tied to it side by side. My arms however were held so my elbows were sticking out on either side of my head. The support rod there was twice as long and crossed from one elbow all the way to the other where they were tied down and held in place.
Bobby gave me a surprise when they started to cover me in a burlap basting wrap. Apparently he had a special basting sauce he concocted and our guests were going to be encouraged to come over and help baste me while I was turning on my spit. I was completely covered from top to bottom with the burlap leaving only my face uncovered and an initial brushing of the sauce was allowed to soak into the fabric before I would be carried out to my fire pit.
Bobby went outside to check on the guests and ask if they were ready to see the main course. The real pig was carried out first which got a laugh that I could hear, then a few minutes later Kevin and Bobby lifted me up by the spit and I was carried out. The gasp from almost everyone was audible, and a couple people even let out a short scream when they saw that I was truly impaled. Bobby assured everyone that I was still very much alive and relatively unharmed. The spit was secured over the fire and Bobby invited anyone who wanted to come over and begin the basting and cooking.
Several of my female friends immediately came running over to confirm I was still alive. Although I could not really move, and having the gag and spit in my mouth and throat I couldn’t talk, I was still able to verify I was alive, mostly unharmed, and even wiggled my feet and hands some. With everyone reassured the spit was started turning and the ‘Ellen Roast’ began in earnest.
The speed of the rotations was slow enough that I would not get too dizzy and eliminated the centrifugal forces on my body. I still found it very uncomfortable to have the weight of my arms, legs, and body shifting as I turned but there was nothing I could do about it at this point. At least the burlap wrap they had put around me helped hold me a little bit. The fire below me was kept quite low and I was slightly off to one side of it so that the heat was not coming directly up around my body which could have potentially cooked me over time. It was still close enough that I remained quite warm and even sweated a bit. At some point everyone made it over to see how I was doing and have a bit of fun brushing on more of Bobby’s special basting sauce. Many of them made multiple trips over to brush on a new layer of the sauce, and once the drinks had been flowing for a bit several decided to include my face as well.
I’m not exactly sure just how long I was kept out there turning on my spit. For a while the discomfort of rotating like I was slowly increased as the time passed and was beginning to become rather painful. Then, oddly, after a while it began to feel like something additional was supporting me and holding me in place. I put it down to fatigue and tried to simply relax the best I could, closing my eyes and getting into a semi meditative state.
I thought that I had been basically left alone for some time for the most part as I had stopped feeling anyone brushing on more sauce. What I did not know is that Bobby made sure I had fairly regular visits from someone to add on more of the special sauce at frequent intervals. I had simply stopped feeling it due to the nature of what Bobby had mixed up.
When Bobby, Kevin and Woody, and another couple of men came over to take me off the fire all I knew was that I heard a knocking on my head. I tried to open my eyes and found them to be sealed shut. Trying to wiggle my hands fingers feet or toes encountered a hard shell that stopped me from moving anything. I was still able to breathe through my nose, but even my lips had been sealed shut against the ball gag. I could barely hear a muffled conversation nearby but could not make out any words. The rotation of the spit was stopped and a moment later I was lifted up. I barely felt the movement of being carried and there was a solid thump when I got set down again.
I tried to move again, even taking as deep a breath as I could, and I realized that somehow I was fully encased in a solid shell of some type. From the tips of my fingers above my head down to the tips of my toes I was rigid and unable to move, having been turned into a statue.
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Bobby looked down on the red colored outline of a woman with a metal spit impaling it lying on the table before him. From the increased sounds of breathing coming from the opening around the nostrils he guessed that Ellen had realized she was now in a solid shell. The ‘sauce’ he had come up with had included plaster, resin, and a bit of cement mix in it along with some red latex for the color. He had mixed it quite thin so that it appeared similar to a basting sauce like was used on the real pig. During the party he’d gotten help from their guests with adding two more layers of the burlap wrap onto Ellen while she ‘cooked’. She had apparently even fallen asleep, or possibly into a deep meditation, and never even noticed the new layers as they were wrapped over her face as well. As Ellen was rotated over the fire the mixture soaked into the layers of burlap wrap and was slowly baked into a hard shell. Ellen was now encased within a cast consisting of plaster, cement, and resin with red latex adding color and further helping combine the ingredients and turn Ellen into a red statue that somewhat resembled one of the victims of the doomed city of Pompeii. Knocking again on the shell he wondered if he had miscalculated and the cast saws might not be enough to cut her free.
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Someone knocked on me again then there was nothing at all for a few minutes. I felt a few vibrations and something happening around my elbows, then again around my knees, but I couldn’t figure out what was being done. Next there was a good bit heavy vibrations that echoed through me from the rod getting banged on several times. Suddenly the metal spit started moving, being slowly turned first one direction then the other. After a couple of twists it began to get pulled on and I realized it was being removed. Being encased in what ever this was around me, the spit was able to move without my limbs moving, although my skin did get pinched a little bit as the spit was pulled out. Having the spit removed didn’t really make any change to how rigid I was being held, so I could only guess that what ever was in Bobby’s ‘special sauce’ was intended to turn me into a living statue. One more surprise, and one which I was rather enjoying at the moment. Although the thought of how I was to get out did give me some pause. At least the removal of the spit opened up a second air hole that I could breathe through.
A short time later after the spit had been removed, I felt something being inserted through the hole in the gag and down my throat. I tried to cough but all that did was allow the thing to go further down. It stopped after a minute then it got quite cold and I felt something start filling my tummy. I guessed a tube had been inserted and I was being given what I hoped was water. The next thing I heard from outside of my shell was a low whine of something being powered up. Then my little enclosed world exploded with sound and vibrations. I instantly recognized that one of our cast saws was digging into the shell encasing me somewhere down around my feet. A moment later the level of sound and vibration increased as a second one started chewing into the shell at my hands. The sound of the saws took on a higher pitched whine than normal and they seemed to be having trouble cutting through. I guessed that this was going to take longer than usual to get me free. Eventually the statue that covered me was broken through and separated, although I did suffer several little burns from the hot saw blades coming in contact with my skin multiple times. Getting my face loose from the shell covering it was not fun either. It stuck to my skin since there was not a bottom layer of burlap to protect me, and it had to be carefully peeled off my skin.
Looking up with a grin at Bobby and our guests who had remained I asked, “When is the next roast?”
