The Devonshire Epicurean Society

"Crème de la' crème, Watson - remember?" Holmes replied, "sotto voce." "That's how these little 'soirees' stay so secret!"

We returned some of the others' curious smiles, as Msr. Dolcett led us by the crowd, and through a rear-facing hallway towards the kitchen area.

The kitchen itself was brightly lit with electric bulbs, instead of the near-obsolete gas lamps. It was an extremely large area for a mere residential home, more resembling one of those in a posh hotel. From Jock's reproduced blueprints, both Holmes and I recognized the huge, walk-in cold storage lockers, fabricated from both solid oak and stainless steel, seemingly large enough to hold whole carcasses of beef. The sizeable food preparation tables stood in the room's center, each fitted with rather odd, yet vaguely-troubling accoutrements - quartets of leather straps or restraints, placed about the corners of each, four-by-four feet apart, and strange angled inclines, with a series of loops about them, at the heads of each. Hanging on the nearest wall were several rows of what appeared to be large, polished steel spears, or skewers of a sort, ranging in length from nine to twelve feet. I suddenly remembered what these were "meat-spits" for roasting whole animals over beds of hot coals! I began to perspire then, either at their other possible uses, or it might've been the considerable heat issuing from one of the three immense ovens in the opposite wall - just the way they were pictured on the plans - obviously in use, a dull, red-hot glow visible through the glass door window. At the same time, I was aware of a spicy, tantalizing aroma of - it must've been roasted meat! I shuddered inwardly at this, but somehow - at the same time - desperately wanted to view the oven's contents. Holmes, however, gently steered me away from there to face the man Dolcett, standing in the midst of the prep area, flanked by two other men attired in white chef's tunics and hats.

"This, of course, is our main kitchen area - the summer kitchen outside is only used for preparing cold side dishes, this is where therealwork gets done!" he beamed. "Allow me to introduce you to our Head and Assistant Head Chefs, the geniuses behind many of our finest recipes! Pleas say hello to Senor Francisco Ludovico of Barcelona, a graduate of Le Cordon Bleu," indicating a tall, smiling, olive-complected Spaniard with slender moustache, who bowed deeply towards us, "and, Herr Manfred von Gurgurant, late of the Hotel Berliner!" The other, a rather taciturn, sober German, merely nodded to us. "Between the two of them," Dolcett continued, "there's over forty years worth of combined culinary expertise, from the more common, day-to-day, to the rather... more 'exotic' specialties, which our guests have come to appreciate!"

They all shared this as a secret joke, though I was fearfully beginning to catch on! The two chefs stepped forward to perfunctorily shake hands with both Holmes and I. Dolcett then led us over to a small alcove off of the main areas, while white-uniformed bus boys and other kitchen-staff bustled about with large mixing bowls and armloads of produce.

It was here that most of my fears for the missing young ladies' communal fates began to be rapidly realized, for standing before us, was - a entirely-naked young girl of about seventeen or thereabouts, wearing only a bathing-bonnet over her dark hair, standing upright in a large washbasin full of - fresh milk! Attending to her was a rather pleasantly-plump woman in maidservant attire, gently sponging milk all over and running down the pretty young thing's fair, white skin. It was also apparent that her sex was shaved clean as well! Neither she nor the attending woman seemed at all perturbed by this display of open nudity - indeed, the comely lass seemed pleased at being spied upon in this manner, and smiled charmingly at us! Dolcett made the introductions.

"This is Mrs. Clemstra, our Kitchen Supervisor, who's overseeing the cleaning and future preparation of some tender 'milk-fed veal' for one of our next dinners! Mrs. Clemstra, Patricia - please say hello to two of tonight's guests, Sir Joseph, and Dr. Worthing."

"Pleased to meet you, Sirs," the older woman smiled at us as she briefly stood up from the stool she was sitting on, then quickly went back to bathing Patricia, who only glanced up at us coquettishly with large dark eyes, and said rather humbly, "It's an honor to meet you both, gentlemen."

I tried not to betray my astonishment, while Holmes bowed in his most magisterial manner, took the young girl's hand, quickly kissed it, and - licked a little of the milk from it onto his lips, a bit lasciviously! "I'm sure the honor's all ours, Miss, and I'm already anticipating the next dinner!"

"Mrs. Clemstra, as you can no doubt tell, enjoys her work here famously - isn't that correct, Madame?"

The matronly lady glanced up again, this time with a thinly veiled longing in her eyes, as she gently yet firmly applied the milk-sodden sponge to Patricia's privates, who then let out with a bit of a girlish giggle. Both she and the man chuckled at this.

"Now, I do believe there's still time, if you'd so choose, Sir Joseph, Dr. Worthing," Dolcett went on, "to have a look at the rest of our 'livestock' on hand, before we begin serving at eight o'clock! Would this please you?" He winked.

Holmes, playing his part of the ex-judicial libertine to the hilt, winked back.

"I thought you were never going to ask, Monsieur! 'Lead on, MacDuff'!"

* * *

The Frenchman led both Holmes and I out through the kitchen's rear entrance into a large, open yard, now backlit by the declining rays of the early evening sun, towards a long, low, gabled-roofed, white-washed clapboard building, with a foot or so of open space between the wall-tops and the eaves. This was immediately identifiable as the mysterious out-building earlier referred to by the butcher Moskowitcz. It was also lit from within by electric light, and a low murmur of voices emanated from it, punctuated by an occasional masculine laugh or a squeal of delight from obviously young female voices! Dolcett turned to us, as he led us inside.

"This, of course, is our 'holding area', where we keep most of our 'fresh meat' close at hand, until needed! Ah, I see many of your fellow guests have decided to amuse themselves here also, while awaiting the final call to dinner!"

As we entered, we immediately saw, neatly laid out in twin rows - a series of hay-filled wooden stalls, of the type that actual cattle or horses would be kept in. Only these - these were occupied by - young women and girls, each and every one of them as freely-naked as the very day of their births, just as the first girl we'd seen in the kitchen! Each one also seemed to have their privates depilated as well, and either stood or lounged about in their confines, resting or sitting on hay-bales, and each one had a leather collar of some sort around their necks, along with a piercing on either one of their nipples or nether-lips, adorned by a circular metal tag, of the type that prize cows or swine wore, in a country fair judging contest! They were a mixed group - several blondes and brunettes, a red-haired young woman, all Caucasian save for a lovely Asian lass, a pretty Hindu girl, even one of obvious African descent. It now seemed as if all of the missing young ladies were both present and accounted for, right here! Many of the well-dressed sophisticates in attendance - both the men and women - were milling about the girls' pens, leaning over to read the tags, making rather lewd and lascivious comments on "meat quality", even touching, pinching, and squeezing their naked flesh! What's more, all the poor young women simply allowed this deucedly over-familiar behavior, chatting rather pleasantly with their tormentors, even joining in the laughter on the jokes at their own expense! It was such a sight as I'd never before seen in my life, and my carefully composed reserve was now about to give way. Dolcett beamed proudly at his display of prize-beauty women flesh.

"Marvelous specimens, aren't they, gentlemen? We've spared no effort, nor expense, at bringing the very finest viands, the very best, tender young veal, lamb, and piglet, from the market, to table, for both yours' and your guests' dining pleasure! And each and every one will be prepared in the most unique and appetizing recipes, to bring out their wonderful, delicate flavors! 'C'est manifique', no?"

"C'est manifique, oui, Monsieur," Holmes cried out in a mock-display of wonder and delight. "However did you find such splendid young does? And," he gave the man a sly aside, "how do you manage to keep them hidden from the local authorities' notice?"

"Quite simple, Sir Joseph," the man smiled knowingly. "You see that man over there - the one enjoying himself with the select meat-girl in that stall?"

He indicated a laughing, florid-faced fellow in his mid-thirties, wearing a gray uniform of a country constabulary, back towards us with his trousers down, and standing behind the bare buttocks of the young woman in question, about to bend over them.

"That, Monsieurs, is our local constable, Sergeant Tudberry, about to enjoy himself with our own special, naughty Helen!"

The pretty young thing squealed in either anticipatory fright or pleasure - it was difficult to say which - as the drunken lout entered her, to much applause and cheers from the observing crowd! I'd never witnessed such a wanton spectacle in open view before, and felt myself flush with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation! Dolcett looked at us expectantly, with a raised eyebrow.

"Gentlemen? Would you care to enjoy yourselves with any one of ourtres jolie jeune-filles? They certainly won't refuse you, or even mind the attention - indeed, they appreciate it! Pick any one you like, at your leisure!"

Holmes smiled appreciatively. "Why, that's most thoughtful, and considerate of both you and your quite-accommodating staff, Monsieur Dolcett! We're very, VERY grateful, aren't we, Doctor?" He glanced at me for a reply, faux bushy eyebrows raised in supplication.

"Why, er - that is, us - yes, I suppose..."

"Then, please go right ahead, with our most sincere wishes for your pleasure, Sirs! Now,excusez-moi, but - there are so many last-minute details to see to! And, please remember to finish your activities here before ten-minutes-of-eight, we'll ring the dinner-bell at that time, and you must be seated inside for the feast to commence on schedule! Till then," he bowed and proceeded toward the kitchen door.

I looked pleadingly at Holmes, desperation and horror quickly overtaking me!

"Holmes - for the love of GOD, man, PLEASE - please tell me that this is all some sort of extremely-decadent brothel, catering to the most perverse of tastes!! Tell me this isn't - these 'people' - they AREN'T...!"

"Cannibals, Watson", he said, low-voiced, in that maddening "matter-of-fact" tone he so often employed. "White, upper-crust, high-society, human flesh-eaters, with a particular fondness for the young, tender female of the species. Quite correct, and just as I'd suspected for some time now."

"But - then, these poor, wretched, innocent, lovely young creatures - they're actually going to be - to be..."

"Cooked 'alive' is the usual preferred method, I believe, whether baked or broiled in an oven or on an open grill, roasted whole on a spit over a bed of hot coals - you did see the proper equipment in the kitchen, I believe, old friend? Or, even - possibly butchered like a side of beef, then - boiled in a pot, cooked over the stove, or even other diabolical methods!"

I shuddered almost as with a seizure, and felt my stomach violently turn, as I begged him.

"But - this is MADNESS, insanity! Depravity of the highest order! We can't possibly allow that to happen, Holmes! Regardless of that reprobate over there," I indicated the rutting constable, "we have to dosomething, notify the police immediately, we..."

"Calm yourself, Watson, calm yourself - take a good, deep breath, and listen to me closely! I'd already notified Inspector Lestrade of my verifiable suspicions before we set off from London, and urged him to take the very next train out here to this location, bringing a large contingent of uniformed officers with him! 'Back-up', I believe the Americans are calling it now, in their police-work. He should be arriving in about twenty minutes or so from now," he consulted his pocket-watch, "if the rail timetables are correct. Besides, look around us - we're being watched, closely, both out-numbered and out-gunned!"

I followed his gaze, and noticed for the first time a number of large, muscular, impassive-faced men, in ordinary suits, stationed about the perimeter of the building, their jackets barely concealing what I strongly suspected were handguns. My gaze was met with Holmes' again.

"We simply have to 'play along with the act' for the time being, Watson, until Lestrade and his men get here! Then, we can more effectively deal with these villains."

"But Holmes," I insisted, "simply, how can this be? How could this happen? This isn't the wilds of New Guinea! This is the English countryside, at the start of the twentieth century!"

"And, we're surrounded by the idle rich, jaded and dissolute! We've both seen the fleshpots of places like London, Paris, and Amsterdam - and, the various sexual fetishes and depravities on display there! You remember, of course, the Whitechapel fiend, who committed those atrocities of well over ten years ago now (see:"The Whitechapel Horrors")? He even admitted in one of the infamous 'Ripper letters' that he'd both cooked and eaten one of the kidneys he'd removed from that unfortunate woman! Combine all of those extremes, and, the wealthy degenerate, and you arrive here! 'The ultimate taboo' becomes 'the ultimate thrill'! I tell you, Watson, I've seen this coming, eventually!"

He looked about furtively, then took my arm, steering me towards the "pens".

"Come, we've no more time to waste! We must determine the whereabouts of our young Miss Audrey Ermine before it's too late!"

We approached the confine of a rather shapely, lovely, fair-complected brunette girl. He leant over the gate, smiling paternally at her, and took her hand in his.

"And, what might your name be, my lovely meat-muffin?"

The girl returned a sweetly pretty smile.

"Anne-Marie, Monsieur, very pleased to meet you!" she announced in an unmistakable Parisian accent.

He kissed it quite cavalierly, then asked:

"And, who might your equally-charming neighbors be?" he glanced up and down the rows.

"Well, Sir, beside me here is Annabelle", she replied, indicating another lithe, brunette young woman on her right.

"Hello, Sir, and welcome," the girl smiled, in a noticeable Welsh dialect.

"And, on my other side, is Elizabeth", Anne-Marie continued, nodding to a dark auburn-haired, curvaceous young woman on her left, who quickly stood up and disarmingly curtsied in the nude!

"Pleased, I'm sure", she smiled demurely, then sat back down. The rest of the girls, prompted by the French girl, introduced themselves in turn.

"Michelle, gentlemen, please make yourselves at home, if you'd care to!" said an attractive blonde young woman with a suntanned complexion, twirling herself about, somewhat shamelessly, in her stall. Next came a milky-skinned, freckled, red haired lass, who spoke with the Irish country accent.

"I'm called Jessie, Sirs, very pleased you could come tonight, I'm certain that you'll love having us!" she teased with bright green eyes.

They all seemed to share this as a secret joke, laughing amongst them selves. I turned to Holmes once again.

"Good Lord, Holmes," I muttered under my breath, "these girls all seem entirely unaware of their certain fates, or - entirely accepting of it, without question!"

"Oh, that's quite all right, Doctor - I heard him." she indicated to Holmes, "call you 'Doctor,' right?" said Elizabeth. "We're quite looking forward to becoming 'meat for the dining table'! I'd prefer to be roasted on a spit, meself! They - Mr. Dolcett and the chefs - assure me that I'm next in line for it, as the summer warms up. I'm quite anxious for it!" she squealed with excited eyes.

"And I", beamed Anne-Marie, "will simply not settle for anything less than becoming an appetizing 'oven-roast' - in fact, I insisted on it!"

"So do I," added Jessie. "I'd love to become oven-roasted! I'd very much like to think that Chef Ludovico would prepare me just like a spring lamb - and, I'm sure I'd taste just as delicious as well!"

"Holmes, what've these fiends done to these poor things? Has their capture and torment drove them completely mad?"

"Remember, Watson", Holmes prompted me, "the nights we spent with your colleague Dr. Freud in Vienna, discussing his theories of the sexual psyche? How the deeply held, dark fantasy of 'sexual cannibalism' actually represented the subconscious desire to be 'consumed,' and thus possessed forever, as the ultimate sacrifice of erotic love? And, of the writings of one Sacher von Masoch, on the nature and clandestine thrill of 'sexual submission' of the giving of one's self, totally and completely, over to the dominant will of another?" He regarded me seriously. "These girls are still at an impressionable age, Watson! After kidnapping them and most likely brutalizing them, along with administering copious amounts of a hallucinogenic drug - very possibly, a mixture of laudanum and absinthe," as he peered into Elizabeth's eyes, "their young minds were most easily manipulated, open to any suggestion, no matter how 'extreme'. I sincerely doubt they're actually aware of how final their 'wish-fantasies' will become!"

"But I AM!" called a panic-stricken voice from the end of the row. "I know just EXACTLY what's going to happen to me - and, I'm TERRIFIED, in HORRORS, Sir!"

It belonged to a strikingly attractive, very blonde and blue-eyed, fair-skinned young woman, perhaps only a few years older than the rest - possibly mid-twenties - with a slender, shapely figure of the most perfect dimensions. She implored us with her luminous eyes, fearfully, almost hysterical!

"Oh, please, PLEASE, kind sirs, you both look like good, DECENT, and HONOURABLE gentlemen - won't you please, PLEASE HELP ME! My name is Catherine Celeste, I'm an American just visiting here in your country on vacation, when these MONSTERS broke into my hotel room in Hyde Park, overpowered me, and brought me out here to this remote place - to be COOKED ALIVE, and EATEN!! I STILL can't believe this is all happening - it's the WORST NIGHTMARE imaginable, oh my GOD!"

Both Holmes and I were deeply moved, both by her sheer terror, and natural beauty, to come over to her enclosure. As we neared, it was evident that she was chained down to the floor by way of her neck collar as a restraining measure. We'd also noticed that two of the sinister guards had also started moving towards us all.

"Oh, please, PLEASE - I BEG of you both!! Please leave here at once, and get word out to the nearest police force! Have them contact my parents in the States, by way of the American embassy in London, they have money, and perhaps can negotiate a ransom?"

"There, there - don't worry your pretty little head, young lady," Holmes mocked her, "your time in the oven, and on the serving platter, will be here before you know it!" He then added, in a low whisper, before Dolcett's henchmen closed in, "My name is Sherlock Holmes, I'm a private investigator, and this is my trusted friend and colleague, Dr. Watson - don't give up yet, or let on' - your ordeal will soon be over, fear not!"

He then moved away, as the guards quickly subdued her, against her squealed protests, with a hypodermic syringe, filled quite possibly with the very same drug mixture that Holmes had surmised. "I'll look forward to having you for dinner soon enough!"