Ashley Graham: Ham Dinner, Part One

She tested the strength of the slightly rusted chain attached to the leather collar around her neck for the 12th time that morning, hoping that this would be the time when it finally gave out.

Tug. Grunt. Tug. Tug. Ughhh.

Nope, still holding on to her like it had a stake in her fate.

Ashley Graham plopped her thick, olive skinned, fleshy ass back on to the hay at the bottom of her cell, in the basement of Ryan St. Ryan's winter cabin, where she was doomed to spend the final two weeks of her life. Yeah, that Ryan St. Ryan. The action star had chatted the supermodel up at a charity auction. He'd seemed charming enough, Ashley remembered, like the kind of guy who'd stick his neck out for a pretty girl at the cost of his own well-being. They'd gone on few dates hence, where it seemed he'd lived up to that well-being jazz a hundred times over.

According to him, after she had woken up, chained spread eagle and nude on his bed, she was going to contribute to his well-being. He'd landed the lead role in some superhero pic and needed to bulk up his strong yet wiry frame quick. A high protein diet, he'd said, would do the trick—as he forced his tongue down Ashley's throat and worked his hands beneath the well-fed woman to lovingly stroke her broad, beefy back. He trailed open mouth kisses on both of her cheekbones, down her throat, and between her plump, heavy breasts—each kiss ending with a bit of suction, as if he were tasting her. It became harder and harder for Ashley to hold back moans of elation with each one.

He stared longingly at her rising and falling chest, the action causing her mammaries to jiggle enticingly. Glancing up at her to wink smugly, his hands quickly wrapped themselves around her jiggling boobage; his mouth soon followed, sucking the entirety of the summit of her left breast into his mouth, tongue rolling around her areolae and teeth testing the dexterity and texture of her hardened, dark coral nipple. Against her will, a low animalistic moan escaped Ashley's throat, arching her back instinctively to force more of her tit into Ryan's hungry mouth, wishing to God that her legs were free so that she could rub them together to ease her rising lust. His teeth were nipping away at the rest of the well suckled teat, testing the thickness of the fatty mound of female flesh. She was disappointed when he stopped laving attention upon her fully aroused boob, and a little weirded out when he looked her straight in the eyes and licked his lips.

"Let's see if the other one tastes as good," he drawled as he massaged the savory milk sack, right before diving—mouth fully opened—onto its sister. He mouthed the unsuspecting suck-em hungrily, mmm-ing every now and then, fully enjoying the flavor he was getting from the squirming young woman beneath him. Ashley could only close her eyes and enjoy the sensation his feasting was causing her, not noticing when his right hand headed downward towards her moist, shaven sex.

All at once he bit down on the dark pink nubbin atop her breast and plunged three fingers into her dripping twat, receiving a breathy yelp from the bucking babe. He dunked his fingers into her a few more times, drawing out a satisfied grunt with each thrust, and drew the sticky, lady cum drenched digits to his face. As Ashley watched him, transfixed, he brought them first to his nose, to enjoy the aroma of the pulsating plumper's sexual essence, and then stuck them into his mouth, closing his eyes to better savor the rich, tangy flavor of the nectar of her neither regions, moaning in satisfaction at her taste.

"I wonder," Ryan snarked, "if this stuff tastes better," smirking when Ashley began thrashing her head back and forth when he dropped his fingers down to her cunt once more and began playing with her engorged clit, "straight from the source?"

"P-please..." the supermodel begged, her entire frame burning with desire, managing to—despite her position—to raise her pelvis towards her captor, her twat slightly spasming, gooey pussy cream drooling out of her love tunnel.

"Please what, bitch?"

"Please..." she forced out of herself, "please...e-eat...eat me..."

"A little louder honey, I didn't quite hear..."

The need to cum ambushed the side of Ashley that was screaming to her that his man was taking her against her will and strangled it to death, even as the model herself screeched "FUCKING EAT ME!"

Ryan's smile turned wolfish—that was exactly what he wanted to hear. Leaving the supermodel weeping with wanton need and shame, he popped over to the mini-fridge on the left side of his bed and pulled out a container of Miracle Whip. "Wh-what the fuck are you d-doing..." Ashley managed to groan out around her desperate mewling, even as Ryan pulled a plastic spatula out from his dresser.

"I," he said, as he opened up the container of sandwich condiment, "am going," sticking the culinary tool into the tangy cream, "to do exactly," getting a healthy glob out of the jar, "what you told me to do." Ashley screamed in a shock induced orgasm as he slapped the ice cold mayo covered spatula on to her sweltering snatch, the action sending every fleshy part of her, from saliva soaked teat to sweat covered thigh wobbling like an ocean wave. She looked up at him, her expression caught between utter disgust—she was never a fan of mayonnaise—and please-God-don't-stop-now. The charming young man hungrily snarled, "Gonna start with a nice Bacon Sandwich," as he moved down between the woman's thick, trembling thighs, "and, you should know, a sandwich just isn't a sandwich without the tangy zip of Miracle Whip."

Gripping her plentiful hips in a death-like grip, opening his jaws as wide as he could, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth, he dove right into Ashley's creamy crotch, teeth biting down onto her most sensitive flesh, as his tongue began thrusting into the wet, sticky folds of her vagina at the same time.

Ashley screamed with orgasm after orgasm in the span of a few moments, weeping in elation as Ryan feasted on her squirting snatch, her love honey splashing against the mayo on her mons, the combined creams mixing together into a flavor at once unique and utterly delicious. When he had sucked all of it off her quivering quim, he dunked the spatula into the jar again, and—with a Cheshire Cat grin—rammed the cold cream covered instrument deep into the girl's molten maiden-head. The breath was taken right out of the supermodel's lungs, her eyes rolling in the back of her head as thrust the spatula into her over and over, twirling it around and stretching out the walls of her pulsating pussy before yanking it out and mouthing her slit once more, not stopping until he'd sucked out as much of the bouncing beauty's fuck frosting as he could. As Ashley came down from her spatula-screw induced high, she was greeted by the sight of Ryan attacking it like a lollypop, slurping down the cream that it was drenched in.

"Mmmm...as tasty as that was, I don't want to fill up on the appetizer," Ryan moaned as he threw the spatula across the room, "and it's time to start fixing the main course." Grabbing Ashley's sweat covered face and pulling towards him, he brought his as close as he could to hers. She could smell the mix of mayo and cunt in his breath, "And do you know what the main course is tonight?."

"N-nnnn…" the quivery chubette couldn't even concentrate enough to form a single two letter word.

"Honey Roasted Ham," his smile almost demonic, "Honey...Roasted...Ham. A La...Ashley Graham," grabbing her haunches and squeezing them, testing their resilience.

"Wh-what? Are you f-fucking serious?" Ashley finally managing to screw her face up into something resembling incredulous disgust.

Before she could utter another syllable, Ryan's hand came across her face, slapping her hard enough to make her nose bleed, "I'm going to eat you, you fucking corn-fed whore!"

"Noooo…" the woman wept...

"Fuck yes!" he snarled as Ashley looked up at him in terror, "I am going to truss you up like a Butterball turkey, 'cause you definitely got the breasts for it," squeezing her helpless hooters hard enough to make his captive wince in pain, "stick you in a pan, cover all this meat with honey," running his hand up and down her frightened frame, "stick cloves into you," poking her thighs roughly, as Ashley's eyes widened in utter horror, "pop you in a goddamned oven, cook you and fucking eat every fucking morsel of meat on your fat fucking body," and added looking her straight in the eye, "while you are still FUCKING ALIVE!!"

"You—you're crazy! You can't eat me! I'm not a piece of meat, you sick fuck!"

"You remember this, you dumb whore," he screamed back, imitating the need in her voice from an hour and a half before, "'Uhh..uhhh..uhh….'," imitating her while she was on the cusp of orgasm, "'P-please...Please FUCKING EAT MEEEE!!'" The fearful filly shut her eyes in humiliation—she had really sounded like that, begging for her rapist to go down on her, "You said I could—YOU BEGGED ME TO! So guess what, I am! Every. Fucking. Fatty. Shred. Of. YOU!!"

He needed to go on a specialized diet. It began to click now, the conversation, the seemingly normal conversation she had with him before the night went to Hell like a bat out of it.

A high protein pork diet.

In this case, a high protein HUMAN pork diet.

HER pork, in fact.

This motherfucker was really going to do it. He was going to cook and eat her.

She hoped she heard him wrong, but knew deep down inside she hadn't—cook and eat her ALIVE.

Ashley Graham knew then...she was never leaving this house.

Not alive.

Not whole.

How could she, with pieces of her digesting...

Oh, God...

TO BE CONCLUDED...