SouthAmeriCannibalism
WARNING, PENECTOMY, TESTICLES, EXTREME / DEATH / DISMEMBERMENT
Thanks to her “exposure” on eunuch.org, CB is now a contract journalist exclusively reporting “Lifestyles of the Richly Bizarre.” This preliminary dispatch comes from a top-shelf “pony farm” somewhere in the southern hemisphere
` * * * * * `

Coke is the export. Cocks are the import.

* * * * * 

Twenty-four faces. Some smiling, some laughing, some grimacing, some contorted
in so much fierce agony that only death can follow.

In fact, all 24 faces are already dead. And their distinct and disturbing
expressions are frozen for eternity.

This, in a way then, is their immortality.

They got this way because they wanted it this way. All 24 disembodied heads
are preserved in taxidermic perfection. All expressions preserve the pinnacle
of their erotic-toxic perfucktion.

* * * * * 

I was blindfolded when first led into the teak-paneled chamber. I had been
blindfolded ever since I boarded the private Lear out of Rio.

I had no idea where I was, other than the ride was not long enough to have
taken me out of the continent. Based on the demeanor of the demented who met
me after my commercial flight from Toronto touched down, I assumed I was going
to be spending some quality time with the cartel crowd.

* * * * * 

Light, at last. It was a dark night outside, but the teak chamber was torch-
lit throughout with flickering flames of fire.

It had that real chamber-of-horrors look. Even before I caught sight of
anything to be horrified about.

The demented left the room and clanked the big door shut behind them. I
noticed bars on the windows and I heard the door bolt slide locked, but I was
not alone in this eerie cell.

But I was the only one still alive.

It was like the most expensive and ornate museum room I had ever been in. My
24 companions were magnificently displayed along the walls and counter-height
tables. They were mounted on wood plaques with engraved gold labels.

Each had a crystal clear glass dome as their see-through coffin. Each dome had
a wooden knob on top, seeming to coax the viewer to lift the coffin lid for an
even better view.

Beneath each head was a closed wooden cabinet, but fronted in clear glass and
made as richly tasteful as the rest of the chamber.

I could see documents, photographs and videotapes in the cabinets. Some also
had assorted body parts that had also received a taxidermist’s TLC.

Hands. Nipples. Whole breasts. Cock heads. Testicle sacs. Whole cock-and-ball
statues, and beautifully erect.

If I still had one, my cock would have gone to permanent attention too.

Even without a cock though, a feeling of arousal is still strong in a place
like this. I took my time.

The cabinets were not locked. I lifted every dome and examined every document.

I noticed that there were plenty of empty domes and empty cabinets. I figured
at least 48 more could join us at these head tables.

I also noticed a darkened room off to the side, with a couple of comfortable
chairs and a big HDTV.

I watched every tape.

I learned every story.

I saw the bodies cum and the heads come off.

I saw life come and go.

I saw things other than heads come off. And usually before the life had come
and gone.

I saw the kinky taxidermists in action.

I saw beautiful naked women in face masks carving and eating cocks and balls.

I saw smiling naked men gladly having those cocks and balls wrapped tight at
the bases so they could be cooked alive.

Basted. Broiled. Boiled. Charcoal-roasted.

Sometimes those beautiful non-boneless boner stakes were even burned at the
stake.

And the faces of the meat donors always began with a smile.

And like I said before, many also ended with a smile, but the spectrum of
preserved expression ranged from ultimate happiness to ultimate horror.

Just the way they wanted it.

Their signatures were on the documents. Their begging-for-torture voices were
on tape.

* * * * * 

It may have been hours, it may have been days, when the demented returned.
Time was irrelevant, I had been so absorbed with the ghoulish stories and
ghoulish souvenirs of my 24 new friends.

I wasn’t tired and was glad to find it was party time.

The rest of the mansion was just as ornate as the chamber, but it was a lot
more lively.

I was given a party menu. It listed available rooms with a full array of sex a
la carte.

I chose the roomful of naked black men with clean-shaven cocks that loved to
be sucked. I was so hungry, I needed mouthfuls of cum.

As I drained them and drank them, my own energy eventually drained and I
needed sleep.

One of the most beautiful of the black men escorted me to an elegant bedroom
with a king-size four-poster prepped and ready for us to snuggle together.

As he held me close, I felt his great cock harden again against my spooned
bare ass.

As I dozed into a blissful sleep, my lover du jour whispered in my ear.

“For breakfast, my cock is yours. I chose you for my ultimate fantasy. It will
be so wonderful to watch you cook and consume my huge cock and balls. With
your help, my smiling face will be number 25.”

* * * * * 

_CB  
will be  
back  
sometime  
with  
the rest of the story  
and  
the rest of the stories. _

  

* * *