Friday, May 6, 2011

While we wait. A very short piece


It stood, threatening, against the wall of her bedroom, just as it did since the day John married her. She dusted off its 8 foot length, just as she did every Friday. After the long pole was clean, she inspected it critically and made sure there was not even a speck of rust on it. She touched the sharp point at its business end, unable to repress a shiver as she pictured the two and a half inch wide rod, stretching her small asshole and penetrating deep into her bowels. She shivered again as she took a small rag, soaked in olive oil, and coated its length with a thin layer of oil to prevent any rust from forming.
The spit was John’s gift to her on her wedding day; it represented a promise from John. Just as she promised him her life and devotion, and her flesh, if any day he decided he wanted it, so the gift of a spit meant a promise. A promise that, if her number was called, before he harvested her, he would buy her meat from the board and spit her at home, surrounded by family and friends. When they married, young and broke, such a promise meant a lot to most women. She caressed the spit with her fingers. He bought it five years ago, and at the time it was the best he could afford. On it, she could last, at the most 15 minutes over the fire. The thick spit would not let her breathe more than that.
“Shall I get you a better spit darling?” he asked her five months ago, after his major promotion finally meant that so many formerly unaffordable things were so no longer, “maybe one of those thin carbon fiber ones; they say you can last 30 or even 40 minutes on those.”
Joanna caressed the spit in the kitchen and said, “No dear; this is the one you gave me, when we married, and this is the one I want to ride.”
She began to prepare their evening meal. She was, like most of her friends, mostly vegetarian. They would only eat meat when there was a cook out and one of their friends was on the menu. It was comforting to be eaten by friends, not to be parceled out in the butcher shop, like all those women whose husbands or parents simply sold them off, or did not redeem them.
“It improves our flavor if we eat mostly vegetables,” they would say.
Of course, they knew it wasn’t true. Joanna remembered when Bob, the neighbor spitted his wife Lisa, one of the few women in the neighborhood who was not vegetarian, there was no difference in taste. The slut was also one of the few women who looked forward to her conversion. She was such a masochist. She came all the time the spit was going through her body and still jerked, her eyes rolled back in a continuous orgasm, most of the time she was over the coals.
That was not the way it went, most of the time.
Julianne screamed and had to be held down by four of Joe’s friends as soon as the spit entered her ass hole, and it was a more modern, reinforced steel spit, much thinner than her cast iron one. Only after two feet were in, she managed to calm down enough to ask her husband to tie and gag her. He gagged her, as was traditional with an apple, so that the spit pushed it out as it came out of her mouth. She writhed on the spit for at least 25 minutes over the coals.
“She finally got into it,” Susan said.
Joanne and the other women agreed with her, but they knew better.
She gave a final wipe to the spit pole.
Maybe it would not be this weekend.

The End
I'd appreciate any comments.
Love rare meat.


  1. Wow. This strikes me on many levels- from moderate disturbance to erotic intrigue. I really like your writing, and as a caterer, this particular piece speaks to me. I can almost fantasize that this is metaphor for the secret life of pigs- like Watership Down, except I really dig the sensual.
    It's been a long time since I've been this aroused by something I've read. Well done (or rare :p )

  2. This is the second story of yours I've read with a spit roast theme (I forget the title of the other one, but it's another short posted on Stories Online), are they part of a larger story you're either working on or have already published somewhere? If the latter, what is it called please and where can I get it from? I'm particularly intrigued by the rationale behind a society where women are, apparently, bred for their meat. I'd love to know the story behind this.

  3. Thanks guys.
    Mike, the stories are stand alone stories set on a Dolcett type universe. You can find more at