Teppanyaki

A dozen men sat around three sides of the bar, watching the chef at the grill. He was intently chopping and dicing vegetables, and prepping them for the large pan fryer in front of him. Oil dance and smoked on the grill each time a bit of moisture hit it.

The tock, tock, tock of the knife hitting the cutting board over and over in rapid succession was hypnotizing, almost as hypnotizing as the main course, strung up in the center of the open area, directly behind the chef.

On order was a marine, captured in the jungle on a raid of the territory of these men, each a powerful drug lord in his own right. Their host had invited them to dine with him, and had pressed one of the local Teppanyaki chefs into service for the evening, so that the meeting would not turn into just a boring strategy session.

In addition to the man bound in the center, two more soldiers were bound in cages to either side of the bar. Most hoped that they were intended for after dinner entertainment, but knew that they were probably here to gain an understanding of just how hopeless their situation is.

The GI in the center had been cleansed and prepped for the evening, but his hair remained intact. He was gagged to prevent him from interrupting the conversation, which ranged from how best to combat the insurgency of DEA agents and Anti-drug forces, to which cuts of meat would be best.

Two assistants stood on either side of the spreadeagle stud. One held a straight razor and shaving cream, the other a cutting board. The chef finished cutting vegetables, and stepped back, folding his knives across his chest as if he were an Egyptian Pharaoh.

The host clapped for attention, (which was hardly necessary) and nodded to the chef, who in turn nodded to his assistants. Immediately one lathered up the large toe of the bound struggling form. Shaving the hair from the joint, he rinsed it and stepped back, while the other assistant stepped forward and placed the cutting board under the toe.

The muscles strained and writhed as the man cursed behind his gag, sweat matting the hair remaining on his chest and legs. The chef moved forward and with one sweep of his knife, sliced off the large toe, then tossed it onto the grill. Mixing it with vegetables he chopped and diced and fried until the meat was finely chopped and mixed with the vegetables and sauce on hand.

Expertly flipping the meat into a bowl he handed it with both hands to the host of the party, who, using chopsticks, sampled the mixture. Nodding his approval he gave the sign to continue.

The men watched in rapt attention as the assistant with the razor began to lather up the cock and balls of the now panic stricken main course. While the shaving was taking place the second assistant placed a large brazier in back of the meal to be, and began to heat an iron with a large flat end. The muscles bulged as the masculine hirsute soldier continued to struggle to escape.

When the hair and lather had been rinsed off, the second assistant held the cutting board under the large cock and balls of the petrified soldier whose every muscle and vein stood out in stark relief.

The first assistant grabbed the smoking iron from the brazier and stood ready. The chef stepped forward but the host made a signal and he hesitate. Pointing to the gag, his meaning was clear.

The first assistant reached up and pulled the gag free from the soldiers mouth. Immediately a stream of fear choked pleading emitted from the mans mouth,

"OH GOD! NO! PLEASE! I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING! GOD, PLEASE NO! HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"
His voice rose in pitch and volume as the cutting board was firmed up and the chef stepped forward,
"DON'T! NO, DON'T!!!!!!! AAAAAAHHHHHHHHhhhh!"
The man shrieked as the chef began expertly cutting off his cock in paper thin slices. When he was done he had a row of fleshy coins which he tossed onto the grill with the expertise of a true showman as Assistant one used the hot iron to cauterize the wound.

As the flesh sizzled the chef tossed it around on the grill using his knifes, the added vegetables and piled it together to cook. Turning back to the now thrashing and moaning centerpiece, he quickly sliced open the mans ball sack and popped out the testicles while both assistants shaved the mans legs.

He placed them on a plate, raw, with the amputated cockhead in the center and handed it to his host, who handed it to one of the guests of honor. The man reached down with his chopsticks and, looking into the horrified uncomprehending face of the victim, picked up one of the man oysters, dipped it into soy sauce and wasabi, and popped it into his mouth.

As the chef continued to cook and present the assistants continued to shave, hold the board and cauterize each new wound. The toes were cooked, then the flesh of the inner thighs, the calves, the buttocks all went onto the grill and still the soldier moaned and strained at his bonds although the struggle was weakening.

The two soldiers to either side of the grill were staring off into space, shocked into disbelief at the sight of their former comrade, the lower half of his body charred to the bone from the hot irons, hanging in his bonds.

As the diners continued their feast, the chef handed the host a knife for the coup de grace, there would be no more meat for Teppanyaki, the remains would be sent to the kitchen for further rendering.

Standing in front of the soldier, who was now capable only of a low moaning sound, the host expertly slipped a silken cord around the mans throat and tightened it. He began to struggle weakly as his tongue protruded and his eyes bulged. In his state it did not take long for his eyes to roll back into his head as he expelled a death rattle.

The diners retired to the study for brandy and cigars while the two remaining GI's were prepared for entertainment.