These girls from the gym that I do Zumba with invited me to a bonfire one of them was having out at her family’s farm. They said bring a friend, but female as it was a girls night. We were gonna get drunk, smoke weed and just have fun. Sounded great to me. I grabbed my BFF, got in the jeep and we headed to rural Kentucky. We joked a bit on the way that it seemed like we were driving through the area in one of those Wrong Turn movies. We got there and the girls were naked and dancing around the bonfire. I told my BFF, they just witches wannabes and we giggled. When in Rome, right? We took off our clothes started dancing around the bonfire with them drinking moonshine.
Next thing I know, my BFF and I are bound, gagged and tied to a stake. That moonshine I guess was spiked. I thought is this a joke? Then the girls swarmed around us like bees on honey. They started calling us bitches and stupid cunts. One girl tried to claim I stole her boyfriend a few years ago. Really? A few years ago, not last week? Get over it. My smart ass comments didn’t go over well with the Witches of Eastwick and I got slapped hard and an apple shoved in my mouth to shut me up. I still thought this was some sort of payback and would be over soon, but then they were dousing us in some buttery sweet smelling liquid. Did I smell pineapple? They appeared to be seasoning us. WTF? My friend looked scared; I was still in this is a joke mode. But, one of them said we were not only the guests of honor, but we were the main course.
They moved us over the bonfire. We were stacked on top of each other. The flames were so hot. We were literally melting. The main witch just kept turning us around and around and poking at our flesh. I could feel my skin frying, getting crispy. The pain was awful. We were like pigs at a luau. We would be dead soon. Dinner for the Witches of Eastwick. Have you ever smelled burnt hair? Burnt flesh? It’s nauseating. These crazed bitches were continuing to dance around the bonfire , watching us cook to death. Getting off on the smell of our flesh. We were helpless, powerless, almost cooked to death. That’s when I heard the evil ring leader sing, “Cassandra roasting over and open flame….” But this wasn’t a joke. I was dinner. I was nothing more than a side of beef.
Cassandra SPS
Call Cassandra SPS: (855) 733-5746 ext 4276
Visit Cassandra SPS's Phone Sex Profile
Read Cassandra SPS 's Phone Sex Blog
