WARNING: The unique human environment described in this article has a completely different legal and moral code than any society with which we are familiar, and attempts to imitate any of the behaviors described in this article could result in serious criminal charges in the vast majority of existing societies.
The text explores the possible ways in which human flesh can be divided and cooked, and may cause psychological or physical disgust and discomfort just by reading it. Anyone with no particular love of the bizarre, mutant, paranoid human character should look no further.
Even if the war in the restaurant industry has reached a deadly level, for me, the “strong man’s barbecue” launched last week by “Caveman” on Liqi Road is still too much of an anomaly. I understand that it’s a function of the current market judgment of the caveman’s owner, a guy who lived on an island in the Philippines for more than a decade and seems to think that there’s already an affluent female consumer base that would be interested in going out on the weekends to slice up and savor a big, brown, marring, Schwarzenegger-esque thing.
When it comes to cooking women, my flower-filled kitchen has always had a pretty poor reputation. But it’s been a real battlefield of blood and tears, and I’m not talking about the blood and discarded entrails of teenage girls littering my big kitchen, that’s only in the metaphorical sense of it; the blood we’ve spilled is the blood of the bosses.
Everyone knows that the twenty meter long row of glass curtain walls on the first floor of the Flower House facing the street, you only need to stand outside for ten minutes, you will be able to see a white and quiet girl go through the complete process of dehairing, bleeding, disemboweling, cutting, and all of this is in the midst of not steel sinks, rails, and grids, and is completed by the professional skills of the chefs who have a kind face and a neat uniform.
Of course I remembered the night it started, but it was only three months later, and now there were only two beggars sitting outside, still facing the street with their backs to the glass, not caring that inside they were handling the bodies of more than a dozen beautiful girls at the same time.
It cost me the biggest loan I’ve made since I opened my business, and Huang Xiangli, the lender in charge of the National Bank, will tell me what to do. I did what I had to do.
Lanterns hung in the three hundred square meter parlors from the first to the third floors of the Flower House, and dragons and phoenixes were carved into the red-painted pillars. At any given time of the day, twenty – or fifty, depending on the number of customers – or more young girls, naked, roamed from table to table, trying their best to entice the customers to add their delicate pink flesh to the menu.
On the scarlet carpet in the hall, their pearly white feet were unshod, and only until last month the white piece of cardboard indicating her height, weight, and standard of fatness had hung around their necks with a gold ribbon, but now it was tied across the tips of their left breasts with a small pearl-implanted needle.
Diners were, of course, expected to scrutinize the meat they intended to select, and we were always encouraged to fondle the girls’ skins, squeeze their breasts and buttocks, and probe the hidden cavities of their bodies, all of which were generally regarded as actions that would help to whet their appetites. In principle my girls were asked to use any means to achieve this, even if she sat naked on the guests’ laps and fed them brandy mouth-to-mouth.
Since my girls are completely naked during working hours, their only adornment is their hair, and a professional hair stylist has long been specially employed in the Flower House to design their hairstyles for their appearances. A girl with a white, slender neck might have her hair in a high bun, and for something new, among the girls with fluffy hair cascading down their creamy bare backs, sometimes even a big, black, oily braid would appear, slightly hanging down to the bottom of her owner’s round, fat, warm ass.
I am sorry to say that those girls who did not allow themselves to be eaten after their appearance were to be subjected to electric shocks after closing time that night, electrodes would be inserted into hidden places where the damage could not be seen from the outside, and by that I mean of course inside the pussy and deep inside the anus. The shock would be long and the girl being punished would indeed be in great pain, but such is life in the competitive marketplace, and if I were a man of more compassion, I would be the next to be eaten, again of course this is only to take it in a metaphorical sense.
I bowed and followed Mr. Hwang through the bustling, delicious scene, next to his eunuch-like administrative assistant, Mr. Wu. A lissome girl was pestering him: “Sir, don’t you want to see how my tongue looks when it’s soaked in Hua Diao wine and sliced into small slices?” She spat out her little red tongue and made a funny face: “I’ll also sprinkle some peppercorns on it as you wish, it’s one of the most popular appetizers ordered by the regulars who come to Flower Mansion. Then you won’t feel greasy at all when you savor my deep-fried chops.” She obediently took his hand to feel the delicate ribs beneath her breasts: “You try one of these little strips. If you come to see me in the workroom, I’ll scream very softly when they saw these off, I promise.” She said.
It’s true that a guest often wants to see the cooking process, perhaps to make sure that the cutlet he ordered doesn’t get swapped out for one on a lamb! That’s why I’m determined to go into debt to make my kitchen clean, spacious and open plan.
The little girl followed us until we reached the middle of the stairs, and I waved at her before she reluctantly leaned against the escalator and stopped, blinking her round apricot-like eyes rather disappointedly.
On the fourth floor is my newly renovated, not-yet-open box, which I use to take on the “Bruiser Roast.”
secret weapon, I hope Huang Xiangli will see something that really reassures him.
Directly across the stairs of the hall, surrounded by varnished pine, wall with two beautiful face elegant girl, a sitting and a standing, a piano and a Xiao, a color of the classical thin shoulders and slender waist, inches of naked body is not greasy such as congealed fat. Dial piano girl’s left arm ringed a circle of vermilion onyx arm bracelet, piper girl but in the fine ankles playfully set a turquoise emerald bracelet. Her delicate toes, like the tips of bamboo shoots, dotted lightly on the teak floor as the sound of the blowjob undulated. In the face of the guests, they just squinted and smiled.
“Huang Xiangli, Bicui and Xiaohong are for the Peony Pavilion, the first door at the back once you enter. A ten-person stage with a rest room. This is cleaner today, consider adding a pipa and a guzheng after the official opening.”
Old Huang is a regular customer of Flower Mansion, and this time he was also a bit shocked. I watched his gaze wander between Beatrice and Xiao Hong for a moment, very much intending to go up and take a closer look.
“Old Yellow,” I pulled over his bladder: “Today is a rehearsal for you alone, take a turn before placing your order.”
The door of the box asarum courtyard is stone stone stools, two lovely girls sitting with their cheeks on each other, playing against the grain scale. Jade like slippery two people, the only object in the whole body is the two silver hairpin inserted in the black hair.
Turning past the columns, mottled and rough cobblestones paved a small cove where a tall, sturdy, oiled and shiny light brown female body was suspended under the ceiling by tightly bound wrists, below which a pair of sturdy bare feet with only the top two or three toes slightly on the ground were already bruised and twitching under the strain of extreme support. The woman’s disheveled hair cascaded down in front of her face, obscuring her visage, but from it came wisps of bitterly suppressed moans and gasps. The hair brushed against her very rare, plump, heavy breasts, like the leaves of a coconut tree hiding their ripe, falling coconuts, which I knew must have been injected with a large amount of edible quick-cooking fat.
At her feet the other girl had her hands clipped back and was kneeling on her knees, her wrists and ankles each wrapped tightly in a golden chain, her fine breasts so warm and shy that they could easily be contained in the palm of almost one hand. A dozen or so light, dark red whip wounds crisscrossed the petite nude body from shoulder to ribs, glistening in the watery light of the rooftop spotlight.
On her body, the steel needle with two large pearls for a handle was raised up and inserted into her small plum-boned nipple, and the other one playfully struck across her narrow and thin nose, and the large pearl fell heavily on the left side. The girl, trembling slightly, lifted her small, sharp, tear-stained face and faced us with a sad smile.
“Old Huang, you know that our private rooms are specially soundproofed, so there won’t be any sound transmitted into the aisles. The lounge inside the White Mansion is also specially paved with marble, and the equipment for sewage and cleaning is also well designed. Of course, that’s prepared with everything a DIY might use, and I’m guessing the place will be well booked.”
Two young girls dressed as Li were weaving their tube-skirts under the stilt-house of the South Sea Ship, and as they were not yet finished, they wore nothing but a large gold ring around their necks. In front of the Crystal Love for the new generation, the dim lights and shadows flickered wildly, and the three naked nudes flung their hair and twisted their breasts and swayed their hips and feet, so that nothing could be seen of them except that they were turning red and green because of the light.
Heavy mountains spread on the velvet bed reclined a plump young woman, nipples full of overflow, seven or eight months pregnant so that her belly is as big as a drum. She was frowning slightly, holding her waist with one hand and caressing her breasts with the other. It was a trick even I hated, but my marketing director insisted it was worth a try.
At the far end Old Yellow even saw a black girl straddling a leopard, who took special care to have a small brass bell carved with a beautifully illustrated design hanging from her exposed full pussy, which the designer assured me had religious implications. Her other companion was a tall, cool white girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. It was pretty much just signage; I would never have agreed to stew the paws of that leopard with a black and white pair of the other two to serve up to Old Yellow; leopards were too expensive unless he promised to cut the interest on my loan by eighty percent.
After it officially opens, the place will probably have some Vietnamese ready to put on their bucket hats and play with pythons naked all the rest of the way, and Flower Manor is still quite good at snake lady spoons and such.
“Well,” I pushed Old Huang to the stairway, smiling slyly, “I know you’ll be coming to my White House often, so let’s be more dignified today. Do you want Beatrice, or Little Red?”
Their standards are transcribed in cursive on two sheets of gold paper, not white cardboard here. Whether one meter sixty-five or one meter seventy-one is not particularly important; for the insider, it is the ratio of fat to lean flesh that counts, usually between one to nine and three to seven depending on personal preference, with four to six being a bit too rich and greasy.
Old Huang of course is a connoisseur, he just walked to the blowjob Beatrice body pinch her big arm, pressed a hand of Beatrice lychee meat like crystal back muscle and said: “two eight, right?” Of course he was right.
The girls organize their instruments slightly and lead the way to turn the corner and open the door. They put on the light, draw the curtain, set the table, make tea, and wait by the side of the guest of honor to order food. From the sleek body to the beautiful face, only the curved red lips are full of respect and obedience. After how much study and training, just for tonight three, five hours only, catering industry is really a place to eat people.
Discussing, arguing, laughing, and finally settling on an elegant menu.
“Cold Lips
Cold Dishes. Four slices of red lip, cut into thin slices, preserving the natural wrinkle texture, marinated in soy sauce and wine, served with mushrooms, spring bamboo shoots, dried beans and cilantro, all finely chopped.
The Waist of Flowers
Virgin kidneys, sliced and dipped in boiling water into strong shochu, seasoned with ginger. Sprinkle with chopped green onion before serving.
The Jade Pavilion
The uterus is cut out, cleaned, filled with steamed glutinous rice, peas, and fire dices, brushed with soy sauce and vinegar seasoning, and baked in the oven until the surface is yellow and crispy.
Beatrice softly interjected, “Is Mr. Wong going to take my ovaries?”
You can choose to have it with or without ovaries, some people don’t like to have attachments.
“Ah, of course.” Old Yellow pinched Beatrice’s tiny waist.
The Heart and Liver Cup
A small jar of fine sand, a slice of heart, a slice of liverwurst, a round of shiitake mushrooms, and a clear broth.
The Twin Peaks
Young girls two breasts cut off the root, the shape of the plump and beautiful good. Abandon the mammary glands, leaving the outer layer of fat on the moldy vegetables steamed through with a mild fire. After opening the cage moldy vegetables shiny and glossy, vertically dissected breast meat into a very thin slice, still the original shape of the upright, soft and not greasy.
The Snake Lady’s Soup
King Cobra, skinned and shredded. Slim meat of young girl’s spine, cut into strips and shred according to the texture. Stir-fry in a pot over medium heat, inject broth, thicken the sauce, and mix with shrimp, fire diced and crushed mushrooms.
For the sake of the drink and joked for a while, arguing whether the beautiful gall bladder can really brighten the eyes, and finally decided not to, only the snake gall bladder. “But,” said Beatrice, slightly aggrieved: “then why Mr. Huang still cook my meat and snake together?”
The two girls quietly retired, Xiao Hong went to the door to hand in her order, and Beatrice walked alone to the side of the box.
As far as possible, it was in keeping with the decorative style of the box, where a “well” shaped trellis stood from floor to ceiling. Beatrice leaned back against it, straightened her slim body, and mischievously bent one knee at us, asking: “Will you gentlemen be pulling up the screen?”
The gentlemen asked for the screen to be pulled, but just that moment in the middle would do. Red returned to the trellis and tenderly embraced her sweet and lovely partner, four icy breasts nestled together in such a delightful way. It’s only for five or six seconds, and we allow, even encourage, that girls can have a moment of affection.
Beatrice as if to spin up to dance high up the slender arms and gathered together above her head, tiptoe. Xiao Hong pulled down the original hanging orchid pure steel chain buckle her wrists, and then to her feet in front of the kneeling gently fiddling, two steel ring “clank” popped open, binding the Beatrice weak ankles. Beatrice lowered her long eyelashes and looked down, wriggling her ten pathetic toes as she tried to make herself comfortable on the carpet.
It was clear that the Flower House tradition was to dangle the girls as they were cut, and to emphasize the importance of keeping the toes slightly touching the ground. Psychologists in the marketing department say this gives customers the visual impression that their choice is taller, thinner, and more pliable than it actually is — through the girl’s restless, writhing bare feet.
Two men in pairs of cloth coats entered the room unnoticed, setting down the black lacquer food box with brushstrokes of peonies they had brought with them behind the bound Beatrice. Red left them to make her way to the table, pulling back the screen of seated and reclining ukiyo-e style nude women with one hand behind her.
“Yo-oh… it hurts… it hurts…” came Beatrice’s voice from behind the screen, soft and gentle.
There has always been an insurmountable technical barrier between the standards of operation in the women’s culinary industry and the demands of customers.
The customer hopes that, having selected a beautiful and agreeable girl, and having paid a long bill of figures for her, he has a right to hope that the girl will accompany him through the whole of a merry feast, and that, even if he has eaten her heart and liver, her ribs, and her anklets, he will still want to see her alive and agreeable, and not turned into a pile of cold raw meat spread out flat.
But here the human taboo of handling meat creates a great hindrance. We are a race that naturally requires the draining of blood before we begin to boil and bake, and to eat blood is still a pejorative term to this day. Thus, when you have chosen a piece of gluteus muscle that seems to be delicious, you also say goodbye to the waist, chest, shoulders, neck, and up to its beautiful eyes attached to it – it is immediately sent to the great kitchen of steel to be cut and bled.
Until tonight, I hope I’ve made new history for women in cooking.
It’s hard to tell that one of the men walking behind the screen is a surgeon with five years of experience. He’s practiced enough to be able to cut through the side of the neck, identify and sever the carotid artery and jugular vein, and connect them to the nylon tubing of an artificial heart-lung machine in a matter of minutes.
As we all know, the heart-lung machine has played a very important role in hospitals during heart surgery, maintaining the patient’s extracorporeal circulation for hours. Tonight, it will also be able to provide Beatrice with hours of oxygenated blood, but only for her head and brain. After her entire body was pumped by her heart into the heart-lung machine, the vascular system connecting the rest of her body would be emptied by negative pressure, far cleaner and quicker than if a person were hung upside down to drain their fluids.
After adding a round of green tea Xiao Hong pushed the screen back together to re-expose Beatrice hanging in front of the trellis. The girl’s face glistened with starry tears, and a light green veil was wrapped around her supple neck, the only modification that had to be added to conceal the plumbing of the machine that sustained her fragile life. She was still smiling stoically at us, and the one change that could be noted was that her flesh stretched out on the shelf had become as clean and clear as polar frost.
“–Oh — ouch –” she said, frowning. The man was busy behind her, making a longitudinal incision parallel to her spine. According to the menu, her heart, uterus, half a liver and a set of kidneys needed to be removed from this incision.
The last work done behind her was the stripping down of the vertical strip of muscle clinging to her spine, which was exactly where Old Yellow had tried it. It was delicate because it was taken from a young girl, and pliable because it was taken from her loins and back, and was the best choice of meat that could satisfy the needs of the Snake Woman’s spoon.
The men turned to Beatrice and switched on a portable chainsaw, the blade of which buzzed slightly against the roots of Beatrice’s breasts and suddenly sank in. As if struck by an electric current, Beatrice tried to bend her proudly stretched nude body, but because of the constraints of her arms and legs, the degree of bending, though tense and compassionate, was limited to a small area. The main thing she could do was just keep shaking.
Experimentally, we know that the human nervous system will be completely dysfunctional after an hour of blood loss.
Which meant that the still lucid Beatrice wouldn’t feel her own body or be bothered by physical injuries for another hour. Unfortunately it wasn’t time for that yet, the cut surface of pinkish-white flesh was fresh and glossy, with not the slightest blood stain leaking out, but the girl was in pain.
Her pair of large labia were lifted up and slashed down flush with a thin-bladed kitchen knife, which was the reason why it was necessary to secure Beatrice’s feet to each of the two posts of the derrick to begin with, so that the girl’s pussy was stretched and exposed and easy to maneuver. And, although the restaurant world did not wish to over-emphasize it, it was not entirely unnecessary to be able to entice the bored-up eyes of the guests to linger here for a moment now and then during the meal that was about to go on and on.
The roots of Beatrice’s legs were now not only sheer, wet, and deep, but truly uncovered, although the rounded muscles of her two inner thighs were twitching more than rhythmically from the sharp pain.
Red wrapped her arm around Beatrice’s shoulders and with her other hand wiped the beads of sweat that were seeping from her female companion’s forehead with a silk scarf, which diverted her attention from the slashing of her flesh. The chef who had squeezed in parted Beatrice’s mouth, the red lips twisting with the silver light thanks to a pair of scissors that had been inserted.
Everyone retired, Xiaohong also retired, leaving Bicui alone to exhale sharply from her nose, pursing her lips, obliquely containing a bouquet of three violet-red roses, which was handed up by Xiaohong in due course to cover the lipless lips.
There would be a bit of blood here, the area above Beatrice’s neck was being supplied with blood, and besides, a lipless maiden wasn’t a good maiden, Rose was just a bit of a forced idea. After all, the lips that were cut were only two tiny ones, and a chef whose knife skills were in the realm of perfection would only be able to cut four or five julienne strips out of each of them. It was at this point that Beatrice’s training in pursing the cuts completely into the inside of her mouth and keeping them there all night long, as an angry little girl sometimes did, became especially important.
All the ingredients were placed in the food box, covered, and the cutters departed as thoughtfully and discreetly as they had arrived. Beatrice let out a few occasional quiet whimpers off to the side, and from the depths of her throat a cold shiver slid over her crystalline limbs. We sat and waited for the food to be served, and Xiao Hong opened the wine. Hua Man Lou usually recommends warm yellow wine when serving women, but Old Huang asked for dry red today, which was crisp and clear, with a color as vermilion as blood.
Old Huang and Song were already drunk and hiccupping when I sent them downstairs, but the old fox still didn’t agree to my request. I was still smiling and angry when I returned to the fourth floor box. The court had broken up, and the cups and plates were in disarray.
Miss Xu, the forty-something year old girl from the marketing department, was already there with her taser. Thick black cables coiled in circles like snakes and were split into Hong’s pussy and anus. The latter, already bound hand and foot by tanned leather straps, lay limp on the floor, moaning in grief, the intense and prolonged torment causing this always gentle young girl to completely lose her original tranquil demeanor.
“–I–I–Miss Xu–Tomorrow–Tomorrow–I’ll make sure they eat me–aigoo–eat me–” she said in agony.
“It’s not good, it’s not good enough!” Ms. Xu pointedly questioned: “to review: why the customer chose Beatrice instead of you?” She pressed the electric shock switch once more, and once more Hong burst into a desperate scream, her long, white body twisting and turning strangely on the carpet.
Even the girls for the top box are subject to discipline and there has to be enough pressure to keep them amped up and competitive. Little Red came out on top, and it was Beatrice who was chosen. The company provided a wonderful working environment and working conditions at an amazing cost, and you failed to live up to it all as a loser, and you should be ashamed of yourself for that. Red, who did not succeed in selling herself, will reflect on her work ethic, which must be further strengthened, as she continues to suffer terribly throughout the night.
At the other end of the box, the kitchen staff were busy sorting through what was left of Beatrice’s usable parts, dragging out greenish-white intestines and piling them into plastic baskets, disassembling her ankles, leg joints and hips, and the power saw blade was “squeaking” on the cone of her waist.
A process error: not turning off her heart-lung machine first. Beatrice was in a trance after more than four hours, probably not understanding what was going on around her, her hazel eyes like a mist, staring blankly at the rose petals falling from her mouth.
I’ve admired this place for a long time, but today I’ve got a chance to see it. Posting “Flower Full House Series” as a gift. Series has been posted in other stations, but does not seem to be transferred to this place.