Chef Anthony made me a Cock Dog and I ate it for Large Fee

Submitted by Nathan Crowe

checked into, The Controller's Compound

The kitchen at Mistress Lynne's Lair smelled of rendered fat and something floral that I could not immediately identify, and I was already calculating the cost of being there before claire had finished explaining the arrangement. She stood near the butcher block with her hands folded in front of her purple uniform, her voice warm and precise, the way she always sounded when she was describing something that was going to happen whether I agreed to it or not. "Chef anthony has prepared something special for you, slave nathan," she said, and I watched her eyes move toward the far counter where chef anthony was already working, his back to us, his shoulders moving with the rhythm of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. "It is a hot dog. But not the kind you are used to." I felt the cage press against the inside of my trousers as I shifted my weight, and I knew, with the clarity that twenty months in this compound has given me, that I was about to pay for something I had not yet decided to do. Twenty-three thousand dollars sat in the back of my mind like a number written on the inside of my skull, and I had not even opened my mouth yet.

Claire walked me toward the prep station, and I saw the man before I understood what I was seeing. He was on his knees on a low platform, naked except for a purple mask that covered his entire head, and his cock was erect and enormous, jutting upward at an angle that made my own locked dick throb with a sympathy I did not want to feel. Chef anthony turned then, and I saw that he was holding a length of intestine, translucent and slick, and he was working it over the masked man's shaft with the same care he would use to case a sausage. "The casing is natural," claire said, her voice close to my ear, and I could smell the lavender in her hair, the starch in her collar. "Chef anthony has been preparing it for the last hour. The meat is a blend of pork shoulder, veal, and a few things I will not spoil for you. It will be cooked on the man's cock. The heat from his body, the pressure of the casing, the—" she paused, and I heard the smile in her voice without seeing it, "—the natural juices. It will be the most expensive hot dog you have ever eaten, slave nathan. And you will eat all of it." I calculated the cost of the ingredients, the cost of the masked man's time, the cost of chef anthony's labor, and I arrived at a number that made my jaw tighten. I did not ask what the number was. I knew claire would tell me when she was ready.

Chef anthony finished casing the cock and stepped back, and the masked man began to move his hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm, fucking the air with the weight of his own erection, and I watched the sausage take shape along his shaft, the meat bulging inside the translucent skin, the heat of his body beginning to cook it from the inside. Claire had moved to the stove, and she was heating a pan, and I could see the oil shimmering, and I understood that the hot dog would be finished in the pan, seared on the outside, still warm from the man's cock on the inside. "You are wondering about the price," claire said, and she turned to look at me, and her eyes were the color of the purple candles that lined the walls of this place, and I felt my cock strain against the cage, and I hated how much I wanted to know. "This experience is forty-six thousand dollars. That is two control attempts, slave nathan. Two times you tried to take something that was not yours to take. And now you will eat the result." I opened my mouth to say something—to negotiate, to calculate, to assert some kind of control over the terms—and I felt the words die in my throat, because claire was already turning back to the stove, and chef anthony was already lifting the hot dog from the masked man's cock with a pair of tongs, and the thing was glistening and steaming and obscene, and I knew I was going to eat it.

The masked man was still on his knees, his cock now bare and slick and still hard, and I could see the faint imprint of the casing on his skin, the way the heat had reddened him, and I felt my own cock throb against the metal of the cage, and I thought about the one million dollars I had not paid, the contract I had not signed, the twenty months of not coming that had turned my body into a ledger of unspent desire. Claire placed the hot dog on a plate and carried it to me, and she held it up, and I could see the sear marks, the way the skin had split slightly, the juice pooling on the porcelain. "Open your mouth, slave nathan," she said, and her voice was not a request, and I opened my mouth, and she pushed the hot dog past my lips, and I tasted the salt, the fat, the faint metallic tang of the man's skin, and I chewed, and I swallowed, and I felt the heat of it move down my throat and into my stomach, and I knew that I had just eaten forty-six thousand dollars, and that I would do it again.

Claire watched me eat the entire thing, and when I was finished, she took the plate from my hands and set it aside, and she leaned close, and I could feel her breath on my cheek, and I could smell the kitchen on her, the oil and the meat and the lavender, and I could feel the cage pressing against my cock, and I could feel the number forty-six thousand settling into the ledger in my mind, joining the other numbers, the other attempts, the other meals I had eaten because I could not stop trying to control a situation that was never mine to control. "You are very good at this, slave nathan," claire said, and she reached down and adjusted the front of my trousers, her fingers brushing against the cage, and I felt my knees go weak, and I heard myself make a sound that was not a word. "Mistress Lynne will be pleased. And you will be back. They always come back." She turned and walked toward the door, and I stood there in the kitchen with the taste of the hot dog still in my mouth and the weight of the cage still on my cock and the number forty-six thousand still burning in my mind, and I knew she was right. I would be back. I would always be back. And the next time, I would pay more.