Cannibalism Phone Sex Surprise

I was asked to make the big holiday dinner for work this year, and I grinned cunningly at those faces around me. “I’ll make a meal to die for.” I chuckled. They thanked me, hypnotized by my charms and unaware that I truly am an agent of Evil itself. I decided I would give these corporate pricks more than they bargained for. I collected little darlings, and for a week I fed them wonderfully. They were spoiled with sweets, and herbs, and spices, and wines to keep them calm. I fed from them, letting my fangs sink into their neck here and there to sample their sweet blood whiskey I was craving more than anything.
The night before, I slaughtered and carved up my little lambs, and marinated those tender steaks. I cooked all day, feverishly. My little innocents got their bones used for stock, and I made a hearty soup from their organs, and some vegetables from my own garden. It was delicious, up until I added the arsenic. Then I let it simmer away, soaking wet and delighted at the feast that awaited my coworker cohorts.
They came, and I served them a delicious, robust meal. I stayed busy refilling decanters and wine glasses. None of them noticed I only picked from certain dishes. They complimented my steak, and asked what it was. I grinned, nonchalantly stroking my cunt under the table in a moment of rest, as I chuckled, “Goat. It’s young goat.” They were in awe. And then, the sickness set in as the apple cyanide custard was a sure hit. Cleaning up that evening, I stacked my bonfire high, cumming in front of the flames as I praised Baphomet.

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