Story - Anonymous Cuts by Shadowkeeper

[center]Anonymous Cuts

By Shadowkeeper

Part One - Inauspicious Entry[/center]

As I step into Bob’s Girl-butchering and Catering, the clichéd little bells on the door give warning of my entrance to the proprietor of said business, whose name is of course Bob, along with the only other living occupant of the establishment, a girl in her twenties who I recognize as she turns to face in my direction – it’s Maria, a sweet thing that used to baby-sit my kids.

The girl’s face brightens as she greets me with her trademark infectious grin. “Mrs. Harper, how are the kids and that devilish husband of yours?”

Despite the grim reasons for my visit here today, I can’t help letting Maria’s customary enthusiasm and joy in life push me into an answering grin. “Call me Meg, please, you’re not working for me anymore. Maria baby, I haven’t seen you in years! You look healthy, I’m glad to see they’re feeding you girls right at the University. The girls are fine, they’re just about to finish fifth grade with straight A’s again. John is just as horny as ever, he misses you, you know.”

Maria gets a dreamy look in her eyes and licks her lips unconsciously; my husband can have that affect on a girl. “Yeah, I’ve missed you guys too…I wish we could get together and try out some of those games again…”

My smile fades as I start to feel a bit concerned. “Maria, honey, you’re not selling yourself are you?” She bites her lip and nods, her eyes a little bright. “But – but, you’ve been doing so well in school, your mom always talks about how good you’re doing…”

She sighs, but somehow still manages to maintain a veneer of cheerfulness; I’ve never understood how she does that – even when she was sobbing her way through my husband taking her through her first backdoor grind, she had still come off as happy about it. “Yeah, well, I did my internship interviews, and I found out that my field isn’t hiring women any more, since we might end up as meat at any moment and they can’t afford to keep training replacements…so I figured I might as well help to feed the rest of the family for awhile instead of ending up as girl-burger in some restaurant when the state finds out I’m single and unemployed.”

I’m speechless for a moment in shock. “Wait, they’re allowed to hire like that now? I mean, I know we’ve lost a lot of rights since the culling started, but now we can’t even get jobs because of it? Why don’t you stay with your parents and try to find something? You’re a smart girl, I’m sure there are still lots of places that would hire you.” I look to Bob apologetically. “No offense, Bob, I don’t mean to be interfering in your business.”

The dear man just shrugs amiably – there’s a reason why so many of us end up in his display case, and it has to do with the fact that he really cares about us, even as he turns us into delicious cuts of meat. “Keep at it Meg, you know I’d rather have a sweet thing like this as a customer than a sales item, not that I’m going to refuse her if she insists of course.”

Maria forestalls any further discussion as she smiles once more and raises her hands. “No, that’s all right guys, I’m decided. I’m too chubby to be any better than a B or C grade, and that means that if the state gets me I get to jump into a grinder after they get rid of my hair and nails…no thanks! I’d rather help out my family and Bob, and get to have people see my head and admire how good my meat looks in the display…I want my ending to mean something. I hope you can understand that.”

She’s looking at me with those big, hopeful eyes, and I get a lump in my throat as what she’s just said strikes a chord with my own situation. “Yeah baby, I can, more than you know…tell you what, John always loved that lush ass of yours, so I’ll put an order in for it if your family hasn’t reserved it already.”

She rushes over and hugs me, hard. “Oh, thank you, thank you Mrs. – um, Meg…I only reserved my left leg for my family, that way there will be more money for them to put towards the mortgage, and I always liked it when Mr. – I mean, John nipped and nibbled at my behind.” She’s blushing now, it’s so cute and fetching that I’m starting to get wet.

Bob clears his throat. “Not to interrupt such a, er, touching moment, but if you ladies want my services today we’ll have to hurry things along, because I have a double live roast to cater in two hours, and the roasts themselves should be showing up for the prep work any time now.” He turns to Maria with a stern look that is belied by the mix of pity and lust in his eyes. “Now I assume you brought your doctor’s certification of health with you, so if that’s the case you can just come around here, go through the double doors, and then just slip out of those clothes while I take care of Mrs. Harper here.”

I can see Maria’s throat move as she swallows convulsively, and then she gives a little nod and puts a brave look on her face as she gives me a final hug. I don’t know what to say, so I just silently watch her walk away to her doom.

In a moment I’m alone with Bob. He patiently waits as I stare mindlessly at the carefully preserved heads that are tastefully arranged over their cuts of meat in the display case. I don’t recognize any of them, thank god, and I’m not here to purchase anything, but I can’t tear my eyes away as I think about how wonderful it is that there are places like this where a woman can feel appreciated even in death. I know that Bob does this more for our benefit than his, just as girls that come here are more concerned with their dignity than with money, after all, the only way that he can charge prices for girl-meat that the average person can reasonably afford is by minimizing his expenses and profits, which means that a girl can make a lot more money by selling herself to the state slaughterhouses than by coming here, and even so he makes barely enough to survive on. God, I hope that I can end up in this case, but I get the feeling that my wonderful marriage and kids have eaten up all of my luck for this lifetime.

Stiffening my resolve, I finally look up at Bob and give him a timid smile. “Erm, uh, Bob, I need to ask you a big favor…”

Looking concerned, Bob walks over to the door and turns the sign over to closed. “I’m assuming that you’re not here to make a purchase Mrs. Harper?”

I shake my head and lean against the cool glass of that reassuring case. “Please, call me Meg, I really can’t deal with formality today. I-I got my summons to the slaughterhouse this morning…standard wording: ‘In order to reverse the destructive population growth of our people and to mitigate the effects of the food shortages, blah, blah, blah, we gotta kill you, have a nice day and don’t be late or we’ll take your family.” Bob comes over and rubs my shoulders reassuringly; boy am I glad I can come to him; there’s no way my hubby or dad can really understand what I’m going through, not like Bob can. “Bob, can you do an appraisal of my meat and tell me how they’ll grade me, so I know if you can buy me from them…I’d really rather not have my head tossed into a grinder or whatever.”

The big guy pulls me into a gentle, enveloping hug, and I can feel the tension draining right out of me. “Sure Meg, no problem…would you like to help make things easier for your friend while you’re back there? I think it’ll be nice for both of you.”

[center]Part Two - Bittersweet Exit[/center]

By the time I realize that he’s leading me through the shop I’m already stepping through the double doors and into a white tiled, spotlessly cleaned and extremely organized room. Maria is in there, sitting naked as the day she was born on a steel table off to the side of the large space. She doesn’t notice us at first, as she’s studying the very young looking, headless, gutted carcass that’s hanging upside down over the drainage area in the center of the room. She jumps a little when she finally hears my heels clicking on the tile floor. “Oh, gosh! You scared me…um, what are you doing back here Meg? I hope you’re not selling yourself too, those girls need you!”

I force a reassuring smile onto my face. “No dear, I’m just getting an appraisal, and I’m going to help make this special for you, if that’s okay.”

Maria’s smile lights up the room; I’m gonna miss that when she’s gone, at least for the short time left to me. “Oh, that’s good! You had me worried for a second there. And yeah, it’ll be great to play with you one more time, hopefully it’ll make me taste even better!” She’s a smart girl, I’m sure she knows that there are few good reasons to get an appraisal done, but she doesn’t mention it, and I’m not going to ruin her last moments with my own woes.

With that out of the way, I turn to Bob. “Um, Bob, I don’t mean to get nosy here, but that carcass over there looks a bit…”

He gives me a reassuring squeeze. “Young? Yeah, that was Katrina, beleive it or not she was old enough to vote, if they still let you girls do that; she was a gymnast, real good one too, had a personal trainer and those diets that put off puberty. She lost her lottery protection after she broke her ankle, and then her number came up, and the State guys were so freaked out by how she looked that they gave her a non-edible grade and practically gave her to me when I asked. I’m keeping her for myself; there’d be too many questions if I put her out front, and she was a friend of the family at any rate…real nice girl, you’d have liked her. Now, why don’t you get out of those clothes while I give Maria here my own personal send off.”

Maria’s giving him a big grin as he pulls stuff aside to show her his own meat, and before I’ve even removed my blouse she’s slurping and slobbering away at it with gusto. She’s good; it only takes a minute or so for him to get up to full staff, and then he lays her out on the table and sticks a finger in her to make sure she’s wet enough. Obviously she is, because after just a moment of finger fucking, Bob gets down to business and mounts her. The whole time I’ve been rushing to get down to my skin, and so just as she’s starting to jerk and moan from his powerful thrusts, I’m over her, giving her kisses that she returns passionately while my hands stimulate her big, bouncing breasts and long, hard nipples.

Maria starts returning my caresses, and one of her hands finds my sopping snatch. Within moments, the tiled space is echoing with the kiss-muffled screams of the both of us as we shudder through simultaneous climaxes, and then Bob starts grunting as Maria’s pulsating cunt obviously makes him finish inside of her.

As we all catch our breath, Maria rubs her belly and giggles. “Oh Bob, I think I want to have your babies! Too late for that I guess, but I do want you to eat my womb, it’ll be the next best thing.”

Bob gives her a sad little smile and caresses her cheek. “Sure girl, I’d be proud to have that honor. Now I need you to turn on your stomach so I can get your hands secured, okay?”

Maria leans foreword to give each of us a final kiss, and then she turns over. Bob walks away for a moment and comes back with a hook on the end of a fairly impressive butt plug. He lubes it up and then starts to slowly insert the thing past Maria’s anal ring while she wriggles and moans; thank god my husband got her trained to like it in her backdoor, though with her tempting ass, I’m sure the boys at college helped out with that as well. Bob’s very good at what he does, and faster than you would think, he’s burying the last of it deep inside her colon, giving it a final few hard shoves as she grunts and thrusts back at him.

Maria’s still hot to trot thankfully, so rather than getting nervous as her wrists are tied to the hook protruding from her ass and her ankles are secured by another rope to one of the hooks hanging from the ceiling, she starts wriggling her hips and moaning instead; she always did like it when we tied her up. She isn’t unaware of what’s about to happen though, because she lets out a cute little squeak and her breath quickens a bit when the ankle hook is raised to pull her off the table and into the air, her head ending up at about waist level to Bob.

Bob of course is used to dealing with these kinds of moments, so as he slides the hook along its track, drawing the slightly swinging Maria towards the drain area, he rubs the small of her back and whispers soothingly. I follow his example and lean over a bit to stroke her hair and tell her how much everybody loves her, and how pretty and delicious she looks right now. By the time she’s in position over the drains, her breathing is slower and deeper, and she’s looking at the carcass next to her with a calm, peaceful look on her face.

Bob picks up a vibrating egg and a ‘magic wand’ from a nearby table and hands the latter to me. While I fiddle with the settings on the thing he turns on the egg and gently slides it into Maria’s frothy cunt. She starts to moan and hump her hips as best she can, and her sounds and motions of pleasure redouble as Bob presses a button on the anal plug, causing it to start vibrating as well. Gesturing for me to apply the wand to Maria’s engorged clit, her kindly killer moves around behind her and readies a wicked looking knife while he gently but inexorably uses her long black hair to pull her head back.

Somewhere in Maria’s mind, I’m sure there is an awareness of what it will mean for her to cum, but it’s pretty obvious that she’s not holding back as her moans and cries rise swiftly until they reach a crescendo, a wordless wail of pure release accompanied by a stiffening of her entire body; her eyes wide and quite obviously not really seeing the world around her. The sound she’s making tells me that she has put her all into this, her last orgasm, and my legs are shaking and nearly giving out from the arousal it brings me; it’s also her last utterance, as Bob times the stroke across her throat to coincide with that moment of maximum pleasure.

I kneel down into the path of Maria’s gushing blood and stroke her face as she starts to gurgle and thrash, her hanging, inverted tits moving in the most enticing manner from the frantic shudders of her combined cumming and death throes. Despite the instinctive struggles of her body, Maria’s pretty, blood flecked lips are curved into a slight smile and her eyes are filled with a strange mix of lustful pleasure and peaceful joy as we lock gazes throughout her final moments. It doesn’t take long before her spasms and twitches slow and her eyes start to cloud over and stare through me, and I hold her head steady for a final kiss before her life ends and her body falls as still and limp as the carcass of the hapless gymnast beside her.

I stand up and sigh, looking into Maria’s pretty, sightless brown eyes one last time, and then I jump and squeal as Bob sprays me down with cold water from a hose. “Sorry bout this Meg, can’t have you gettin’ blood all over the place. Damn, those nipples are gonna poke holes through that blouse of yours when you get it back on.”

He shuts off the water, and I try to grin at him through chattering teeth. “V-v-very f-funny B-bob…h-how b-bout I do th-the s-same t-to you and s-see how y-your little buddy l-looks.”

[center]Part Three - Unwelcome Tidings[/center]

Bob brings me a giant, super soft towel and dries me off with it, and pretty soon I’m not only warmed up fairly well, I’m also horny as hell again. On reflex I grab at his still half-hard member, but he gently moves my hand away. “Sorry Meg, no time for us to play. Don’t worry, if you want to invite me to your going away party, my buddy and I will be more than happy to show you what we can do. For now I need you to go get your Certification of Health so we can move things along.”

I can feel the heat in my face as I nod and give him a rueful grin – god, I was just acting like a randy teenager! Well, they say death brings out the sex drive like nothing else, so I guess I have no reason to be ashamed.

As I rummage through my overstuffed purse (gotta clean that out, can’t be carrying anything important to the slaughterhouse if it comes down to that), there’s a knock at the delivery door, and Bob goes to open it. As I straighten up, papers in hand, I freeze in shock and embarrassment as I instantly recognize the pair of women walking in behind Bob – it’s Sheryl Allison, president of the PTA, and her eldest daughter, Cynthia! My embarrassment recedes, while my shock is joined by disbelief as the gorgeous redheads start to remove their conservative clothing.

By the time I get over to the understandably distracted Bob, the ladies are already nude, and then Sheryl notices me and walks over to give me a friendly hug and peck on the cheek. Before we can really greet each other, Cynthia lets out a cute little squeak, and we both turn to watch while the girl stares at the tent in Bob’s apron from his obviously fully erect penis like it scares the shit out of her. Oh my, maybe it does!

Bob seems to have come to the same conclusions as I have, as he carefully starts rubbing the nervous girl’s shoulders. “You’ve never been with a man, have you Cynthia?”

A jerky nod answers him. “I-I wanted to wait until I got married, but that won’t happen now, so I want to lose my cherry to the spit…I’m sorry sir.” Poor thing’s got tears in her eyes and looks like she’s afraid that she’s about to be raped; I wonder what jerk gave her that impression of men and sex; whoever it is needs a good swift kick in the junk.

The girl stiffens as Bob takes her in his arms, but he swiftly gets her to relax within his embrace as he gently strokes her hair and speaks in soft, soothing tones, even though what he is saying ruins her plans. “You’re being roasted at a party for your dad’s clients, right?” Sniffles and a tiny nod. “Well, that means they’re going to expect to be tenderizing the both of you, in whatever holes they want, so unless you want to make your death pointless by upsetting your dad’s clients, you’re going to lose that cherry long before the spit goes in. Besides, if you take that big ol’ pole as a virgin, you’ll tear like hell, ruin your best cut and make your last half hour or so on this earth miserable. Here’s your options kiddo: I can do the deed here and now, so you can spend the whole party having fun, or you can really help your daddy by giving yourself to his biggest client, or if you have a boyfriend you can invite…”

Cynthia darts a glance over at her mom. “Mum, do-do you mind if I ask daddy to do it, I wanted to lose it to the man I love, and there’s no guy out there that I love more than daddy…” She’s begging with those big green eyes, and I’m getting wet just looking at her doing it. I wonder when it was that I started to get this way, finding a weepy young woman to be so powerfully attractive. I’m pretty sure that I wasn’t like this before the world leaders condemned the majority of women on the planet to be killed and eaten, but then again I was so young then, just fourteen and pure as the driven snows, a state that I swiftly corrected once I figured out that soon enough I was going to be staring at a death clock sporting invisible hands.

I’m taken out of my brief reverie by Sheryl nodding away at her daughter’s incestuous plan – I’m not surprised; given that the majority of girls will never be allowed to carry a child to term in the next decade at least, and that the biggest of all the old taboos, cannibalism, has pretty well been annihilated through general practice, the idea of a father/daughter coupling just isn’t all that much to get worked up about, especially when that daughter is going over the coals a few hours later anyway.

Cynthia’s grinning now, and shows her strength of character by asking Bob to show her the best ways to please a man with her mouth, so that she can start things off right with her daddy when the time comes. While the soothing, slurpy sounds of oral sex fill the room, I turn to Sheryl and finally ask for some answers. “Sheryl, hun, did I hear Bob right? Your husband is cooking you two just to feed some clients? I don’t get it, it just doesn’t make sense; you’re a pillar of the community, a perfect hostess, and a great mom, and Cynthia’s the first girl from this area in a decade to get enough scholarship money to attend an Ivy league school…why you? Why now?”

Sheryl sighs. “It’s these damn government takeovers, every company not running big profits is terrified of them; one month in the red and my Bill’s company was desperate to cut corners, so they found a loophole in the health-care part of the Union contract. They found out that they can remove of age female dependants from the insurance rolls by claiming us as company assets and roasting us. Well, Bill found out from his best buddy, who was part of the legal team that figured out how to do it, and so instead of having us taken to be hogged by the execs, he’s doing it himself.”

I shake my head, confused. “I still don’t get it, why not just drop out of the plan instead?”

Sheryl just ruefully shakes her head. “That would be great, but you know Cynthia and I are both severely diabetic, and we’ve become utterly addicted to the newest medicines, and without insurance…well, let’s just say we’d both rather cook than face that. And at any rate, they’re dissolving the PTA anyway – the president said it was interfering with the government’s new curriculum – and Cynthia’s out of scholarship money, since they upped the tuition once again, and we can’t afford to make up the difference.” She gives me a smile and another hug. “Don’t worry, Bob’s going to shoot us up with his best pleasure drugs before we even get there, so we’ll be going out with smiles on our face; you’ll see. So, enough about me, what are you doing here?”

Sheryl makes sympathetic noises and strokes my back soothingly as I tell my tale; it doesn’t take long, of course, which is just as well since Cynthia, ever the good student, has in the meantime picked up enough of the basic oral techniques to satisfy Bob, in more ways than one, and just as I finish relating my situation to Sheryl, he takes my papers at last and starts giving out orders with a kind but firm voice that brooks no arguments. “Sheryl, Cynthia, I need you to go into the prep area and clean each other out very thoroughly – you’ll find everything you need in there. Make sure you’re running clear before you stop the enema’s now; you really don’t want to know what will happen if you have anything left in you when those drugs take effect.” He turns to me as Sheryl gives me a hug and then leads her suddenly frightened looking daughter away. “Meg, I need you to stand with your legs spread as far as you can get them, and then place your hands on top of your head, okay?”

I close my eyes and try to relax as I do what he asked; I’m rather proud of how far I can get my legs apart without any problems, and I smile as I hear Bob’s low whistle of appreciation; all those years of hard work in the gym and dance classes has really paid off – I’m as fit as a sixteen year old cheerleader, not bad for a housewife and mother of two. That thought wipes the smile right off my face though; it’s the root of my fears in fact, that I just might be in good enough shape that Bob won’t be able to afford me.

Well, I’ll know one way or another in just a short bit, and worrying about it won’t help any, so I just clear my mind and enjoy the strangely arousing sensation of being felt up as a living piece of meat. Bob is running his big, strong hands all along my body, tenderly but firmly squeezing every last muscle, particularly my ass and thighs, and testing all the little softer bits of fat. I moan as he starts weighing my good-size tits in his hands, kneading at those orbs to check for firmness and internal consistency – he won’t find any problems there, I still ride nice and high and perky – and then when his thick fingers run along my dripping slit, tease and pinch my clit to get her out of hiding, and then enter me to feel the strength of my inner muscles, my knees nearly give out and I throw my head back as I shudder through an amazingly strong climax. I’m shaken to the core by the surprising power of the whole experience, and my still pulsating cunt tries to hold on to his fingers as they gradually withdraw from me.

I lean up against Bob’s front, holding tight to his apron and burying my face in his big, hard muscled chest as a series of sobs wracks my body – I don’t even know why I’m crying, whether I’m happy or sad or what, all I know is that a storm of confusing, overwhelming emotions is washing over me, and I have to ride it out. Bob obviously figures the same thing out, because he doesn’t do anything other than to lend me his support, which is all I need. Soon enough, I’m just sniffling, and feeling a bit empty – not relieved or renewed or anything like that, just empty. I look up into Bob’s sad, understanding eyes, and I wonder how he can go through seeing things like this every day and still maintain his sanity. I’m just able to force my lips into a tiny smile. “I’m sorry Bob, I don’t know what came over me, I just- “

He puts a finger on my lips and matches my psuedo-smile with one of his own. “Don’t worry about it, you’re not the first, and unfortunately you won’t be the last. Now, if you’re feeling up to it, why don’t you start getting dressed while I tell you what I think.”

My heart sinks like a rock – if he was able to buy me, he’d have waited until the end to ask me to get dressed, just in case I wanted to get it done with immediately. He sees the look on my face and immediately leads me to a bench and sits me down. My voice is a whisper. “Shit, I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

Bob slowly lets out a deep breath, and I can see how uncomfortable he is, but the dear man refuses to give in to the normal urge to look away from me; he keeps eye contact and holds my hands gently as he hands out his verdict. “Meg dear, you are without a doubt one of the fittest women of your age that I’ve ever had the honor of grading, and I’ve graded far too many. Your muscles are toned, but perfectly marbled with just the right amount of fat, those tits are just the right size, shape and firmness, and that fillet – well, let’s just say that if it were a painting, it’d be a masterpiece. Hell, even your skin is flawless; most ladies your age are pale as ghosts or tanned but tough and wrinkled - you must time your exposure to the sun or something. If I were to sell you myself, you’d be a grade A live roast just like Sheryl back there…” He trails off, and I know that the other shoe is about to drop.

“No matter what, your body guarantees you an A grade, but…well, the only girls that get to leave the state slaughterhouses in one piece are below the age of thirty, usually under twenty-four in fact – they just have too many sweet young things going through there for you to compete with, not with the prices people have to pay if they want to have a spit roast without finding a volunteer.”

I nod my understanding, unable to give voice to my despair as the tears start to spill from my eyes. He pulls me in tight for another hug. “I’m so sorry Meg, but I can’t afford to buy you…I wish you had come to me sooner, you deserve better than to end up as some anonymous cuts in some upscale market…”

I don’t want to think about that, not yet, so I push it out of my mind and pull myself back together, letting the numbness that has been following me since I opened that stupid letter fall over me like a security blanket. I gently disengage from my failed rescuer, give him a soft kiss to show my appreciation, and walk over to my clothes. He just sits there and watches as I get dressed – no words from him are needed; his expression says it all.

My hands are shaking, my fingers don’t seem to want to work right, and I’m having trouble getting my blouse buttoned properly, and then a steady pair of hands takes the task from me, and I look up into Sheryl’s hypnotic green eyes. She gives me a little smile, gets me all buttoned and smoothed and looking good; she doesn’t bother to ask what happened – I’m pretty easy to read right now. “Meg, how would you like to come to a barbeque? I could really use your help with something, and anyway I’d like for you to get a taste of us.”

I give her a hug, letting her know how much I appreciate her tact in avoiding the subject of my own fate. “I’m sorry, I’d really love to, but I’m going to Whole Foods later, and that means I need to walk home to get the car.”

Sheryl looks puzzled. “Whole Foods? You can’t afford to shop there, why do you-“ Her eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Oh, I see, trying to understand your future a little. Tell you what, you come with us, it’ll save you most of the walk home, and when we get there I’ll give you my most expensive outfit and some gaudy old jewelry my Auntie Tessa left me, that way you don’t stick out too much when you’re communing with the meat case.”

Sheryl takes one of my arms, Cynthia materializes out of nowhere to silently take the other, and the pair starts to lead me toward the back door. I don’t really offer any resistance, but I’m still not sure that I want to see two more women that deserve so much better meet their early ends. Unfortunately, with the speed of events, the best that I can manage is a mumbled, “Um, well, I don’t…is this okay with Bob?”

Bob just hands me my purse. “The more the merrier; just don’t expect me to ‘accidentally’ spit you, that doesn’t work in real life.”

I’m still trying to find a way out of this, even though the thought of watching sweet Cynthia taking all comers, or more accurately cummers, is starting to appeal to my baser instincts, when the girl finally pipes up. “Please Mrs. Harper, I really need your help. Mum can help fluff daddy for me, but I’m going to need someone to make sure I’m, um, you know, ready for him, and I’d rather it not be a stranger, I mean, maybe later, but not for my first-“

I stop the girl’s slightly desperate pleading with a kiss, one that I intend to be relatively chaste and reassuring; I don’t know which of us is more surprised when it deepens and becomes an enthusiastic dual of tongues that leave both of us gasping and unconsciously rubbing up against each other. “Wow girl, you are one hot number; if you can kiss your daddy like that he won’t need a fluffer…yeah, I’ll help you out – in fact, once I get started they might just have to use a cattle-prod on me to get me off of you.” I’ve got her saliva and a cocky grin on my face as I say this, and the little minx sends a shiver up my spine by answering with one of her own and then slowly licking my spit off of her bee-stung lips.

[center]Part Four – Pertinent Revelations[/center]

“You know, it’s probably for the best that you’re going out now, Meg; I don’t think you want to be around when your girls come of age.” Bob glances at me with an uncomfortable look on his face, and then concentrates on his driving again.

I’m in the passenger seat of his big truck, while the soon to be roasters are sitting in the back with all of the equipment that within hours will be turning them into a pair of delicious party centerpieces; they’ve already chugged down Bob’s chemical cocktail that will turn them into little orgasm factories, and I’ve been occupying myself by wondering what they’ll look like ‘in the throes’, so to speak. Bob’s enigmatic statement drives that right out of my mind though, and I sit up ramrod straight and look at him carefully. I get the feeling that Bob has something that he’s been dying to share with someone, so I bite, even though I get the feeling that I’d rather not know. “Okay Bob, what’s going to happen other than my girls ending up in the lotteries? I’m assuming that you’re talking about something worse than that, though I can’t imagine what it would be.”

The big guy squirms around in his seat. “Well, first off, you can’t tell anyone about this; I mean, I know you don’t have much time left, but if your husband suddenly starts acting weird, this might get traced back to me, and I’m not supposed to know about this.” He pulls over to the side of the road and looks in my eyes until I nod my acceptance of his terms, though I know it’ll be hard to keep anything important from my hubby, especially if it involves my girls.

He’s still hesitating, so I put my hand on his arm and look him in the eye. “Go on, tell me.”

He lets out a long breath. “Oookay then. I know you were young when the cullings started, but do you remember how they explained it all?”

I snort. “Bob dear, I don’t think any woman or girl could forget those announcements; I mean, it’s not every day that a girl finds out that she’s a walking Happy Meal.” I sit back and close my eyes, picturing the President on the TV, making what at first seemed like just another post-martial law announcement. “Let’s see, the Pres started off with the standard spiel about the collapse of industrial farming, how it’s suicide to try to restart it. After that was an estimate of how many people the earth can actually support indefinitely, I remember being shocked at how low the number was, at least compared to how many people there were back then, and then he dropped the bomb. If I recall correctly, and I do, he said that the Chinese had accidentally discovered that the most effective way to cut the population in the long term is to focus on women, since population growth is purely determined by the number of fertile females in the population, and since the cannibalism laws were pretty much being ignored because of the meat shortages anyway, the government was going to use a lottery to harvest women in the key age groups and sell their meat to offset the costs of yadda, yadda, yadda – can’t really remember what stupid pet project he was all about that week…then he assured us that the lottery would only last until the population was at the ideal levels or whatever – now that I think about it, he was pretty vague on that point…”

Bob grunts. “Yeah, slimy bastard, he’s just like the rest of ‘em, talking a whole lot and saying not much of anything. Well, what he neglected to mention was that the ‘ideal female population’ just so happens to be a bit over three girls per male in the military, elected official and upper level beurocrat, along with all the guys that finance the others…and we’ll be approaching those levels in a few short years…”

I’m feeling light-headed suddenly, and I’m having trouble breathing right. I fall back against my seat and close my eyes. “Whores. They’re going to turn my girls into whores for the elite, aren’t they?”

“At the least, but if you want to be precise, they’re going to be property, to be bought, sold, fucked, bred, eaten…whatever their eventual owners decide.” I can hear the pity in his voice, and I keep my eyes screwed shut to avoid looking into those sad eyes. “They’re starting the process next school year, taking the girls out of the regular classes and starting them in on submissiveness training and grading, along with special diets and excercises to get their bodies in top shape for when their big day comes. They’ll be confiscated by the government right at the graduation ceremony, and depending on how their various gradings are, they’ll either be auctioned off to the wealthy, or they’ll get assigned to some soldier or government functionary.”

I groan a little as I remember my daddy saying that the first step to tyranny is allowing a government to control the education system…god he would’ve been sad to be proven so horribly right. “So that’s why they’re busting up the PTA and school-boards. Shit, shit, shit.” I stop and try to think, to find some hope that my sweet girls can grow up to be something other than chattel. “Wait, even if the powers that be and their enforcers are going to be getting fresh pussy all the time, won’t they still be a little pissed when their sisters and daughters get taken away from them?”

Bob’s laughter is bitter. “Do they now? Of course not; they’re allowed to arrange for their loved one’s safety, and that isn’t going to change.”

I open my eyes and stare at the butcher in confusion. “Wait a minute, what are you talking about? They couldn’t be getting away with that, there’d have been calls for a class war by now…and what about those videos of actresses and politician’s daughters getting spit-roasted?”

Bob just gives me a wry look for a moment. “It’s easy to find politicians and such that have daughters or wives that are just too much of a handful…and Americans are notorious for taking anecdotal evidence as total proof of things; just look at how long the myth of ‘the land of opportunity’ lasted. No, I’m sorry to tell you this, but this is going to happen, it’s happening already really, and by the time us ‘undesirables’ realize that we’re being bred out of existence…”

I slump back and stare out the window for a moment, trying to reconsile my recent hopes for my daughter’s futures with the future that has been painted for me. I groan a little in realization. “This is what we get for believing that the Left and Right were different from each other. All that ideological crap means nothing, because now they both get what they wanted, and all it takes is letting the people that offend their delicate sensibilities die out. Bastards.” I open my door. “Look, those girls should be getting pretty worked up from their drugs by now, right?” He nods. “Good, I need to work off some steam. I’ll send Sheryl up here to keep you company.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m curled up with sweet Cynthia, enjoying the rhythmic sounds of a thorough fucking emenating from the front of the still parked truck, and recovering from a very theraputic mutual orgasm that about blew the lid off my head. The girl is still trembling in my arms, and I’m starting to think it’s not just from the aftershocks of her very loud climax. “Cyn, dear, what’s wrong? You’re not still scared are you? Please don’t be, your dad won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Those stunning green eyes are looking up at me from where I have her head pressed to my bosom, filled with anxiety as the sounds from the front peak and then cease. “Um, well, it’s not that exactly, um, it’s just that I-I’m not really saving myself for marriage so much as…well, I kinda like to be with girls more than boys…it’s just so disgusting the way guys look at me, treat me, like I’m only alive to fuck and be food…it’s not that way with you, or most of the other girls.”

I pull her long, sleek body in closer to mine and start to stroke her. “You’re very brave, living that life even with cops looking away from the gay-bashers cutting girls up; and I’m sure that you’ll be just as brave today. Just remember that, just for today, you really are there as a source of sex and food, so when those men, and me too for that matter, look at you with lust and hunger in their eyes, it’s because you and your mom are the sexiest, most delicious looking girls in town, and everyone’s there to worship you for it.” The truck starts to move again, and I hug the poor, frightened girl tightly, rocking her. “You’ll be okay baby, really.”

[center]Part Five – Sweet Mercies[/center]

As the truck finally comes to a halt and the engine dies, leaving a dead silence, I can feel the girl in my arms shudder in apprehension, and I tighten my embrace to reassure her. It’s only a few moments later that the double doors are opened, letting in a flood of bright mid-day sunlight that blinds me and makes poor Cynthia cringe and burrow her wet face even further into my bosom. God it makes me guilty that she’s turning me on so much like this, but really, with that long, sleek body pressed up so intimately against me, and that sweet vulnerability of hers, who could resist?

Blinking the tears out of my eyes, I grudgingly rearrange our bodies so that Bob and Sheryl can help us out of the truck. The elder Allison girl takes one look at her daughter’s state and swiftly takes the poor thing into her arms, cooing comforting nonsense into her ear and petting her gently. Bob has an uncomfortable look on his face, but tactfully just goes about pulling his equipment from the truck.

After standing there in indecision for a moment, a plan starts to form in my mind, and I decide to just run with it. “Hey Sheryl, why don’t you go find your husband and tell him to meet Cyn and me in her bedroom, and then you can start to entertain your guests while we, um, take care of things?”

Sheryl gives me a relieved smile and turns her daughter back towards me. “Cynthia, honey, please show Meg where your room is. If you need me, I’ll be right in the back yard, okay sweety?”

Cynthia doesn’t put up a fight as she is handed off to me and our two companions make themselves scarce, and as she leads me by the hand into her house I come to the conclusion that she isn’t really aware of the decision that has just been made on her behalf; she’s running on autopilot right now, too caught up in her anxiety to consciously register what’s happening around her.

Her bedroom is upstairs, and the sight of it seems to relax her, which was my intention. I gently make her sit on the bed, taking a moment out to admire the pink silk canopy and multitude of matching pillows, and then I take a look around while she collects herself. Cynthia’s room is so amazingly girly and princessy that it’s starting to make me drool from both sets of lips – filled with tons of stuffed animals, perfectly dressed dolls, delicate glass animals, little pink pillows and such, it’s the room of a girl that never truly grew up. God that just makes me want to molest her, so I do.

During our encounter in the truck, I was too worked up about my girls’ futures to truly appreciate Cynthia’s perfect body, so now I want to take my time and get to know every last little detail. To make the process easier and even more of a turn on, I ask the timid but obedient girl to find some nylons, and then use those items to bind her wrists to the canopy-posts; I also find a silk scarf whose brilliant red matches Cynthia’s hair quite fetchingly and use it to blindfold her. That done, I stretch myself out on the helpless girl and start things off with a long, slow kiss that ends with the both of us panting and dripping wet.

Starting at Cynthia’s swanlike neck, I start to kiss and nuzzle my way down her body, using my hands to caress each area before my mouth reaches it. I pay a great deal of attention to her high, amazingly perky C-cup tits and their tiny, rose-petal-pink nipples of course, making sure to bring her ‘love-puppies’, as my hubby would call them, to full attention; I’m willing to bet I could cut glass with her little nubs by the time I get done with them.

After spending a few moments enjoying her flat, toned tummy and cute inny belly button, I skip her pelvic area and start in on her feet, which are surprisingly dainty for her height.

By that point Cynthia is squirming and whimpering like mad, rolling her hips unconsciously and biting her lips as I bring her arousal up and up and up, taking her to the edge of a climax over and over again without letting her go over. It takes me a very long time to make my way up her endless legs, as I just can’t get over the perfection of their shape, or the silkiness of her skin. By the time I start kissing her inner thighs, Cynthia’s about out of her mind with lust, and she wraps those long, long legs around my shoulders, digs her heels into my back, and forces me to press my face to her soaking snatch at last; obviously, I’m not at all resistant to the idea.

Having worked her up into a frenzy, and primed her for a monster cum that I hope to extend into a chain, I dive right in, using lips and tongue and teeth and fingers to hit every good spot I know at once. She stiffens and shudders like she’s attached to a live wire, her legs nearly squeezing the life out of me as the overwhelmed girl throws her head back and opens her mouth wide in a voiceless cry of ecstasy. God she’s sexy when she’s cumming, so much so that I have to divert one of my hands to my own oozing cunt to scratch the itch her spectacular show is giving me.

I’m so into her that I almost miss the gentle cough at the door, and the totally lost to this world girl still has her legs locked around me, but somehow I manage to turn my head enough to see Cynthia’s dad standing at the door with a blindfold of his own on, being guided by an older gentleman in a suit. The guy smiles and holds a finger to his lips, and motions for me to continue my attempts to make Cynthia die from pleasure while he guides her poppa over to the side of the bed.

After I take a moment to free Mr. Allison’s thankfully moderate sized cock from his pants, I start to use my fingers to get Cynthia stretched out a bit for him, noting with relief that like most virgins her age, she has managed to rid herself of her hymen one way or another. While I’m having fun spelunking, the older guy, most likely a close client, guides daddy Allison up onto the bed and gets him to straddle his daughter’s cushy chest, his dick lined up perfectly with her mouth as she raises her head in an automatic reaction to the change in situation. Old guy seems to be pretty quick on the uptake, as before she can panic, he takes the scarf from her eyes, pulling it down to encircle her neck in a most inviting manner and allowing her to see that her beloved daddy has been made ready for her.

Cynthia’s big green eyes get an absolutely enchanting sparkle in them, and she breaks out into the biggest, most delighted grin, looking like a child that just got a pony, and then she takes the head of the half-flaccid cock before her into her mouth and starts to suck and lick like it’s her favorite flavor of popsicle. Obviously Bob taught her well, because by the time I have her stretched out to my satisfaction, she has her daddy rock hard and groaning. Sensing a potential disaster in the offing, I quickly pull myself from between her legs and grab his hips to guide him away from an early ejaculation and down her body until he’s between those heavenly thighs of hers and all lined up with her glistening lower lips.

I look across the bed at the old guy and smirk, motioning for him to get ready to pull off Mr. Allison’s blindfold, and then I give Cynthia’s daddy a good smack in the ass. On reflex, he thrusts forward; burying himself to the hilt in his suddenly squealing daughter, and a second later his eyes are uncovered. Now that it’s too late for any silly qualms about screwing his daughter, he gets over his surprise and chagrin pretty quickly and leans down to start softly, lovingly kiss Cynthia as he slowly and gently rocks his cock in an out of her. She wraps her legs around him and writhes beneath him, and the sight is making me incredibly horny, but I’m also tearing up, it’s just so touching the way they are making love, rather than fucking.

The old guy draws me to the door so that we can talk without disturbing the loving couple, and starts to speak in a refined, sexy British whisper; he really reminds me of Steed from The Avengers – the TV show, not the comic, silly. “Greetings, you must be Meg; I am Alistair Crawford, one of Mr. Allison’s clients, and an old friend. I’m informed that the young miss isn’t really looking forward to spending quality time with a bunch of strange men in her last hours.”

Uh-oh, I hope this isn’t going to be a problem. “Um, yeah, she’s, well, kinda put off by the whole thing, other than getting it on with her daddy obviously.”

He nods and gives me a reassuring pat on the arm; god, he’s so gentile it’s dead sexy. “Quite understandable, and I have no intention of making her go through with it; her mother is doing quite fine with the guys, and I can arrange for my interns to come down from the hotel to help out some. As far as the cooking goes, I’ve talked it over with everyone, and while we all do love to watch a girl like Cynthia writhing on a spit, we’d rather it be something the girl looks forward to. Her mum, who by the way is indeed looking forward to putting on a good show for us, told me that this poor girl really isn’t keen on being drooled over by a bunch of randy men, and so it is my opinion that we should make this one thing she’s happy with her final experience. What is your opinion on this matter, my dear?”

I realize that my mouth is gaping open in surprise, so I snap it shut, and then try to digest this unexpected proposal. “Wow, that’s really sweet of you…if you’re sure…” He nods and smiles encouragingly. “Well then, I think I know just what to do, though I’ll need you to explain things to her dad real quick first.”

His smile widens. “Of course, my dear, and I’m sure that you wish to do the same for the girl?”

I shake my head. “No, if I do this right she’ll go out on a high, without any fear. You’ll see.”

As Alistair whispers into Mr. Allison’s ear, I’m doing the same in Cynthia’s. “Cyn, honey, I’m gonna be choking you a bit with your scarf, okay? Don’t worry, it’s something my hubby does with me; it makes your cums even better. You trust me to make this really special for you, right?”

Cynthia nods and smiles at me, her eyes filled with love for everyone in the room as she surprises the hell out of me. “Just make sure I get to feel my daddy finish before I’m gone, okay? Oh, and tell mum and daddy that I want your girls to get my stuff, I think they’ll love it.” What a special girl; I wish I had gotten to know her better before now.

After kissing Cynthia one final time, I let her get back into her melding with her father before I start to draw her scarf tight around her slender neck. There’s a knot in it already from when it was tied around her head, and I use that to make sure that most of the pressure is on her windpipe, slowly cutting down on her air supply without interfering too much with the flow of blood to her brain. As her face turns red and her moans become strained gasps, Cynthia starts to put a bit more urgency into her movements, and her daddy reluctantly picks up the pace as well. He’s obviously quite torn, wanting to show how much he loves his little girl, while also wanting to make sure that she gets as much pleasure out of this as possible.

Cynthia makes up his mind for him with her last words before her scarf takes her voice away forever. “Fuck me, daddy, fuck me so hard I don’t know what’s happening.”

His face set with determination, her father does just that, pounding into her now, making a rhythmic, loud slapping sound as their pelvises slam together, then stopping to grind into her for a moment before going back to jack-hammering her. The whole time he’s kissing her mouth and face, even as her mouth stretches wide in her futile attempts to draw air into her lungs. She’s cumming continuously, shuddering and jerking in an endless but terminal orgasm, her legs kicking out behind him, then pulling him in deeper, the motions of her body not under her control anymore. I don’t think she’s even aware of anything other than the pleasure anymore; those pretty green eyes are wide and staring straight through her father, whose tears are splashing on her darkened face, and her movements are getting disjointed and random. I’m holding her right on the edge, just the slightest twist and she’ll die in moments – and then the moment I was waiting for comes, as her father grinds himself as far up into her dying body as he can get and starts to grunt and groan, obviously filling her womb with his cum.

I give the scarf that final twist, and Cynthia arches her back, thrusting her sweet tits up at her daddy as he finishes his duties with a final jerk of his hips, and then her body shudders exquisitely from head to toe and she slowly falls limp, those long, perfectly formed legs the last part of her to move as they gradually slide from around her father and sprawl out to the sides awkwardly.

Alistair and I withdraw from the room as Cynthia’s dad unties her wrists and cradles her, spending a few last minutes with his precious girl before she has to be taken to the cooking area. As soon as we are out of sight of the still pair, I lean against the wall and start to slide down it, shaking uncontrollably and balling my eyes out. I feel Alistair pull me into his arms, and I hold onto him tightly. His wonderful voice is in my ear, soothing me. “There, there, deary, it’s alright, let it out. You’ve just done something very wonderful, but so very hard. I don’t know that most could do that the way you did. I hope you know how much better this was than what might have been.” I look up, sniffling but now interested in what he’s saying. “You know, my daughter was chosen for a company roast when she was just about Cynthia’s age. We raised her to be chaste, to only give herself to one man her whole life. What a waste – it made things so horrible for her when they forcibly ‘tenderized’ her, as they say. And then when they spitted her – this was back in the early days, and we were still convinced that it was an unforgivable sin to eat human flesh…well, I’m sure that you can understand why I won’t accept any reluctance on the part of a meat girl, and why I say that you did a good thing just now.”

I smile and give the man a little kiss. “Thank you. I’ll be fine now.”

We help each other to our feet, and then he surprises me by leading me into one of the bedrooms. “Mrs. Allison has asked me to get you looking as posh as can be with her stuff, and then I’m going to take you up to that store, what did she say it was, Whole Foods? Yes, that’s it. I’m sure you can understand that I’m not keen on joining in on the fun out back, and really I’d rather enjoy your company until it’s time to eat. Now, let’s see what we have here…”

For someone so gentle, Alistair sure can dominate a situation, and I find myself totally unable to resist as he turns me into the image of a spoiled trophy wife and leads me to his old but well kept and expensive looking Rolls…

[center][color=blue:300y4qlq]Continued below…[/color:300y4qlq][/center]

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[center]Part Six – Empathetic Understandings[/center]

As Alistair’s Rolls pulls off the highway, past the tastefully arranged trees intended to block the distasteful sight of that concrete scar on the land, and into the parking area of the local Whole Foods, I gasp and bless my lucky stars that I didn’t attempt to drive here in my own beaten turn of the century compact car – it would have stuck out like a sore thumb and attracted the attention of security immediately. The lot is half full, and every single vehicle is shiny and huge and outfitted with shiny chrome and energy wasting doodads like TV’s and computers for every occupant. About half of them are massive SUVs, while the other portion is mostly made up of nearly equally heavy luxury sedans, which offend my sensibilities greatly – those beasts should have been extinct decades ago, but when the only people who can afford to buy new vehicles are wealthy enough to not notice a 500 buck fill-up, fuel efficiency kinda ceases to matter.

Back at the house, I had worried that Alistair was overdoing it when he made sure to shove some very gaudy jewelry on my fingers, but as we enter the store and I get a look at my fellow female patrons, I feel a bit underdressed – these spoiled bitches are almost universally sporting rocks that you could orbit a spacecraft around, if such things still existed. They also carry themselves with a haughtiness and sense of superiority that I’m finding most difficult to emulate – it’s just not in my nature to look at a hardworking, underpaid employee with anything but sympathy. I wonder when it was that the upper middle class started to pick up such behavior. I swear that when I was a kid that kind of attitude was reserved for the political theatre and white people in Spike Lee movies, but I have to admit that since the true middle class disappeared, and society finally did split up into the beggars and the choosers, I have been assaulted by a media that caters to the privileged at the expense of the ‘unwashed masses’, so I really shouldn’t be surprised that this is the result.

Thank God Alistair is with me, as I just can’t bring myself to purchase any of the food here, even though it is far too tempting to buy my first real wheat bread or ear of corn in years – this place is chock full of products from crops like those, the ones that are beyond expensive since shortsighted destruction of diversity nearly made them go extinct. My companion has decided to treat me to whatever he notices catching my eye, explaining that it’s to make up for the trauma of snuffing out the life of a girl that I obviously cared for, and assuring me that as a near euthanasia-aged man with no family, he has plenty of money to waste. It really hurts me when he mentions that – the thought of this sweet, worthy man being put down like an aged dog is just unbearable.

I have to stifle a gasp when we reach the meat section; I’ve always known that they have live-roasters available here, but it never occurred to me that the poor doomed girls would be displayed openly, nude, gagged and hung by the wrists in a special display area. My goal for this expedition is the packaged meats, but I can’t help gravitating towards the trinity of defeated looking girls helplessly hanging before me – and I do mean girls, not a one can be old enough to drink.

Alistair tags along amiably, casually whispering what he calls ‘fun facts’ about the way these live roaster sales work. The price of the girls is not listed, as it’s one of those cases of ‘if you have to ask, you can’t afford it’, but he gives me his estimate of how much each girl should sell for, and the price is simply astounding – I could feed my whole family for a year and buy some new outfits while I’m at it for that much money. Well, it’s good to know that these girls are valued in some way at least, though it pisses me off that the families they are leaving behind won’t see a dime of it. I’m even more torn at his next tidbit – some men shop for sex slaves at places like this, since the government doesn’t wish to inconvenience the wealthy by requiring proof of a roaster’s termination. How should I feel about that? I mean, on the one hand, this means that these sweet looking girls might not die young, but on the other, they might be doomed to a life of pain, servitude and forced sex, maybe even forced breeding…and they still might end up snuffing it sooner rather than later, just for the amusement of their owners. Fuck, this shit is really starting to get to me; I’m having trouble holding my mask of indifference to their plights.

Alistair must have noticed my problem – he motions over one of the butchers and asks if I (he calls me his wife, and for some odd reason that turns me on) can ‘sample the merchandise’. I have no clue what he is talking about, but when the butcher, a rather tired and trod upon looking guy whose name-tag says Oliver, wearily asks me which girl I have an interest in, I automatically point to one that reminds me of one of my long dead cousins at that age – Sharon, that cousin, had been chosen to roast for one of our final family reunions when she turned up with a boyfriend her parents didn’t approve of; the betrayed look in her eyes as she was gagged and tied to a spit haunt me to this day.

Oliver lets the girl down and gently guides her to a nearby door, and I follow them through it automatically while Alistair smiles reassuringly and waits by the other two girls. Inside is, well, it looks like a brothel room – just a bed and a small stand with several drawers, one of which is open enough for me to see a few different types of restraints and some condoms. The bored looking butcher leaves the girl in the middle of the room, gives me a knowing smile, and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

The girl is just standing there, looking at the floor and shivering a little. I take a moment to study her, trying to figure out just what the fuck I’m supposed to do now – I mean, I can figure out that the normal thing to do is to try out the girl’s sexual performance or some such, but I’m not too sure I’m keen on doing that to the poor thing. She’s tall, probably just shy of six feet, with a slender figure that still has plenty of shape to it. Her tits are perfect for her frame, just on the edge between a C and a D cup, and they are firm and perfectly rounded – mouthwatering really. She’s hairless below the neck of course, revealing a cunt with inner and outer lips that are just exaggerated enough to wet the appetite, without making her look loose or used. Her face – well, angels have faces like that, all pert and sweet and innocent even with the ball gag in, and her eyes are a cobalt blue that just draw me in even though she’s not even coming close to looking at me. Fuck, if this is a normal live roaster around here, I can’t blame people for wanting to keep them around awhile.

Finally I come to a decision and approach the girl. She shudders and represses an automatic flinch as I reach for her face, and I feel a swell of pity for her – what have these fucks been doing to her? I pull the ball gag free, and then use the quick release on her cuffs to free her wrists. She’s finally looking at me, apprehension on her face, as I guide her to the bed and make her sit down. I lean in close and start to whisper to her. “Don’t worry honey, I’m not going to do anything to you, not unless you want me to. I’m not what I look like; I’m in your shoes, except I’ll be leaving the slaughterhouse in parts. What’s your name, sweety?”

She licks her lips and tries to speak, but her voice is cracked from either disuse or abuse, I can’t tell which and would rather not know, to be honest. “I-I’m – or I was called Sarah, Sarah King. Um, what’s your name, if I may ask, ma’am.”

I sit down next to her and pat her naked, perfect thigh with exaggerated casualness. “I’m Meg. Would you mind telling me a little about your situation? Like, how old are you, how long have you been here, have they told you that you might not be going on the spit right away?”

Sarah gives me a timid, sad little smile, and I automatically give her a small, one-armed hug. “I’m seventeen ma’am, my mom’s number came up last month, and I had no other family, so they waived the normal age requirements and sent me to the slaughterhouse with her. I spent most of that time there, doing odd jobs while I waited for enough of us live roasters to arrive for them to auction us off, and then a week ago the Whole Foods guy won me, those other two, and some other girls that went to another store, and I’ve been here since. They told us right away that if we please the customers that sample us enough, we might just live to see next year, but I figured it was just a way to get me to perform better.”

I’m caressing her long, flaxen hair, petting it without really meaning to, but she doesn’t seem to mind and even leans in to me a little, finally starting to relax. “Well dear, they weren’t lying, but you should know that the alternative to death is total slavery, with no guarantee that they won’t snuff you anyway, maybe in some really painful way. It’s your choice whether you’d rather take that chance I guess; I know I haven’t figured out which I’d go for. They haven’t hurt you too bad here, have they?”

Sarah’s resting her head on my shoulder now; I can’t see her face, and she’s speaking so quietly that I can’t read her tone. “Most of it’s just uncomfortable, and humiliating, but you get used to it pretty quick. We spend most of the day hanging out, waiting for someone to sample one of us. That hurts, though most of the time just because the guys don’t bother to get us ready first, even when they, you know, use the other hole…I had a few that wanted to see how I handle pain, but I don’t really, so they gave up on that pretty quick. Um, then at night we get locked in these rooms, and every few hours one of the employees sneaks in for a quickie – most of them are nice though, and there’s one manager that makes it really nice for us. The scary part is when we get a serious buyer looking us over…you know who they are from the way they walk around us, like vultures. There were a few other girls when we got here, but they didn’t last long – they were black girls, I have no idea where the store picked them up from, I mean, they aren’t too common anymore, and so they really got people’s attention, exotic meat and all. There’s a new shipment of girls coming in soon, and I’m sure I’ll be gone soon after they get here, maybe even before. I…really don’t know how I feel about that.”

I pull the girl in close, partially to comfort her a bit, and partially because her naked, perfect body just feels really nice against mine. I feel really tempted to strip off and just rub against her until I cum, but I can’t stand the thought of using her like that. “I’m so sorry sweety, if I really were in the money I’d buy you in a heartbeat, make you part of the family…but that’s not an option, so I really don’t know what to tell you. Is there anything I can do for you before we go back out there?”

She has the cutest, shyest smile as she looks up at me. “Um, can you just lay with me and hold me for a little while…you remind me of my mom…I really miss her.”

I pull her back onto the bed and cuddle with her as she softly cries. “Oh honey, of course you do. Just pretend I’m her for a little while and try to remember the good times with her, okay?”

It’s probably been less than an hour since I entered the room, but I feel incredibly guilty for leaving poor Alistair hanging like that. He’s quick to reassure me that he needed the time to take care of some business anyway, and then he stops the butcher from hanging Sarah back up. He turns to me and winks. “So my dear, is this one acceptable to you?”

Not sure what he’s got up his sleeve, but trusting him implicitly, I do my best imperious nod and hope that this turns out better than the rest of my day. Oliver the butcher smiles and attaches a leash to Sarah’s collar, handing the other end to me before giving her a friendly pat on her pert ass to get her moving in my direction.

Alistair takes some paperwork from the butcher, and then directs the pair of us girls over to the cases of pre-packaged meats. He grins a bit at our confusion and then whispers out of the side of his mouth. “Just act normal ladies, I have this situation fully in hand.” That doesn’t really explain anything, but we relax a bit anyway. “Now, Meg, I think it’s about time for you to find what you really came here for. What cut are you most interested in seeing?”

I can feel my face going red…this seemed a lot less embarrassing when I was planning it out as a solo mission. “Um, the rump roasts I think…I’ve always been pretty proud of my ass.”

He gives the mentioned part of my anatomy a friendly pat, eliciting a gasp of outrage from some bejeweled lady passing by, who doesn’t seem to even notice that we are leading around a naked teenager by a leash – fucking hypocrites. “Ah, a perfect choice for our little exercise. Now I assume you want to find one that came from someone close to your own age and such? Good! Now, you’ll notice that it’s hard to tell any of these apart, but if you feel them while looking closely…gently now, don’t squeeze too hard! Now look at the difference in the surface, and you’ll see that these two have different textures. That’s because this one came from a teen, most likely one with a great body but acne or some other skin flaw, and all they did was scald her skin off, taking the bit of subcutaneous fat with it – grade A teens rarely have much ass fat, if any really, so it comes off that way pretty easily. This other one came from a woman in her thirties most likely…as you can see, they manually trimmed the surface fat from it, to make it look more like the rest. Personally, I prefer my roasts untrimmed, the extra bit of fat really adds a lot of flavor. You’ll notice the marbling is also better on the second one as well.”

As he explains all of this to me, I’m holding onto, well, the ass cheek of some woman that was just like me, before they cut off her head and chopped her into bits. It’s all starting to seem a bit more real to me now, and I’m not sure if it was a good idea for me to try this. I mean, how do you come to terms with the fact that by the end of the week, it’ll be your own ass sitting in these coolers, that someone will be paying some hefty price to take it home and devour it without ever knowing or caring who it came from?

Alistair notices my discomfort, and gently removes the meat from my hands before placing it in the cart. He then takes me by the arm and politely asks Sarah to push the cart behind us as he leads us to the checkout stands.

Ten minutes later I’m sitting in the backseat of the Rolls with Sarah leaning up against me. Alistair waits until we are on the highway before he breaks the silence. “Meg, have you found another woman for your husband?”

I shake my head ruefully; this man is just too good. “No, I’ve tried but single girls are getting a bit rare unless you want to go for the jail-bait.”

He laughs a bit at that. “Yes, I thought as much. You have two young girls and a husband that will have a hard time when you’re gone, and you’ve been worried about it, I can tell. Well, worry no more my lady, for you have the solution in your arms this very moment.” Sarah and I just stare at the back of his head in astonishment. “This young lady – Sarah was it? Well, Sarah is no longer in the system. She can be there for your family, and you won’t have to worry about her being stolen from them by the lottery. I’m sorry if I intruded a bit, but when I saw the way you two looked at each other when you came out, inspiration hit, and I had to act on it.”

Sarah and I look at each other and suddenly we’re grinning. She’s on the verge of tears, and I’m not entirely dry eyed myself. “Alistair, you are a saint. How can we ever repay you though?”

He tsks at me. “Now, now, I don’t want to hear that kind of talk. As Bugsy said, money is just dirty paper. However, if you want to do me a favor, you ladies can help my poor overworked interns entertain the rest of Mr. Allison’s clients while we watch his wife’s spitting and roasting dance. We’ll take Sarah up to Cynthia’s room to get her some clothes first, of course – it wouldn’t do for anyone to guess her situation. Ah, that reminds me, you can get rid of that vile collar now my dear; I won’t be having any slaves in my car, just friends.”

We toss the collar out the window, and then Sarah and I hold each other tight and laugh, our day looking much brighter. Somehow both of us are now looking forward to watching Sheryl Allison’s final performance, and the attentions of a large group of men whose sexual edges will be blunted from several hours of fun already. I’m also anticipating the ever so rare opportunity to sample meat from a nearly identical mother and daughter, to see what the difference in tastes is…I’m sure that they’ll be simply divine either way…

[center]Part Seven – Critical Transformations[/center]

As we pull into the Allison’s huge garage and exit the car, I give thanks that it’s attached to the house, as poor Sarah’s nervous enough without having to deal with parading around naked in a nice suburban neighborhood. The poor girl is trembling as I pull her close against my side, trying to reassure her. I think that she’s starting to wonder if she’s gone from the frying pan to the fire, or would that be the other way around? I can’t say that I blame her, after having spent a month coming to terms with being seen as livestock.

We are greeted at the side door by Sheryl, who is gloriously nude, covered in cum both fresh and drying, grinning from ear to ear and positively glowing with excitement. “Oh, good, you made it back just in time – I was about to do my final cleanup before the big event, and I didn’t want you to miss the show!” She walks right up to me and gives me a tight hug, no doubt ruining the overpriced outfit I’m wearing. “Meg, thank you so much for helping my baby, for making it special…you just don’t know how much that means to me…” Sheryl’s voice trails off as she finally notices the new addition to our party, who is staring at the ground and looking like a hunted rabbit. She stiffens and turns the evil eye on Alistair. “You didn’t…”

My gentle friend smiles amiably and holds up his hands to forestall any unpleasantness. “Come now Sheri dear, you should know better than that. Sarah here is my guest, who will be helping out with the entertainment before going home with Meg, who has chosen the girl to be her successor. Worry not, no harm is going to befall the girl, that is as long as we keep this to ourselves and get her nicely dressed before her public appearance.”

Sheryl relaxes and moves over to give Sarah a warm hug. The poor girl is startled at first, not surprising given their mutually nude state, but in the end I can see my host’s natural charm and friendliness is soothing her fears. After a few moments Sheryl steps back and eyes up the teen’s figure critically, and then she starts to grin as she gives her face a soft, motherly caress. “Oh my, aren’t you just a darling. Meg, your husband is one lucky man, going from a great wife like you to this adorable thing. And I do believe that you’ve also found a perfect heir for my Cynthia’s wardrobe – she should fit most of it with little trouble. Meg, why don’t you take her up and find her something nice to wear, while I steal Alistair for a moment. When you’re ready just pop on out back, I’m sure the guys will give you a nice welcoming.”

As I take Sarah by the hand and lead her through the Allison residence wearing nothing but a wide eyed, rather enchanting expression of wonder, I find myself grateful that the Allison clan is traditional enough to have arranged for the younger children to be away for the day – I really don’t think that I’d be okay with trying to explain to them why some strange girl is about to go raiding their beloved sister’s closet.

When we enter Cynthia’s room, Sarah gasps, obviously overawed by her surroundings. I immediately start rummaging around in the dressers, sorting through the tasteful underclothing there while I try to decide what my protégé is going to wear. Looking up from my task, I see Sarah wandering the room in a trance, softly running her hands over stuffed animals and keepsakes, before ending up at the enormous walk-in closet. As she explores it, she handles the huge selection of fashionable, cute but still pretty conservative clothes as if it is made of gold, and I just can’t hold back my curiosity any longer.

“Sarah dear, I really don’t mean to pry, but you seem a little, I don’t know, overwhelmed by everything here…” I trail off, not really knowing if the poor girl can handle talking about her past yet.

The girl doesn’t look at me as she responds in a small voice, still running her fingers along the tasteful collection of clothes before her. “I’ve never really had anything new or nice before, no one in my neighborhood did. Everyone got their clothes second hand, one way or another…and as far as stuff went, well, we had old TV’s and stuff, whatever ended up in the salvage stores, but we never really had enough to get all the little things, you know, the stuff that makes where you live seem like a home.” She waves her hand at the profuse evidence of the late Cynthia’s formerly charmed life, making her point quite elegantly I think. “I had a teddy bear that I really miss, he was kinda my best friend, but that was about it – having enough to eat was always more important, and I don’t think I ever really noticed the difference unless I was watching a TV show.”

I step up to Sarah with some sufficiently sexy undergarments – a nice, silky, virginal white set with a push up, thong, garter belt and matching stockings – and try to sooth her as best I can while I start to dress her. It’s a bit hard to concentrate though, as the feel of the silk on that perfect body of hers is starting to make me wet – damn I’m a horny little bitch today. Even as turned on as she’s making me, I want to hear more from her, and talking seems to be keeping her calm, so I try to draw her story out from her. “Oh baby, you and your mom always had it tough, didn’t you? I’m so sorry, you deserve better.”

She leans back into me as I reach around her front to fasten the clasp of her new bra, forcing me to bite back a moan of arousal as her firm, pert, silk encased ass presses into my tummy, giving it butterflies – it really is amazing the effect this girl is having on me. “It’s okay, really. Mom did her best; she always made sure that I had as much as she could give me. It’s just, well, things started out so badly…she was fourteen, a freshman, and her sweetheart, my dad, he was a senior, just turned eighteen, and they did it just the once, when he took her to his prom, but that was enough, and when mom told her parents she was knocked up, they had my dad put in jail for statutory rape, then kicked mom out. I never met my dad, they Culled and Euthanized the prison population before he got out, and even if he had been free they still would have taken him away since he was a sex offender. She told me a lot about him, she loved him right to the end.”

Sarah turns to look me in the eye, draping her long, slender arms over my shoulders casually. Her eyes are a bit bright, but she has a little wistful smile to balance out the unshed tears. “Really, don’t feel too bad for us. We did a lot better than most of the families I grew up with. See, my mom managed to get help from some of her friends until she was able to graduate, and after that she worked as many jobs as she needed to keep us afloat, so we never joined the welfare rolls – well, I’m sure you guessed that anyway from the fact that we lasted as long as we did.”

We pull apart, and I start dressing her in an outfit that I think might help with her confidence while she continues. “I still remember when they decided to cull all the benefits people – they were so sneaky about it! It was the first of September, and a bunch of my neighbors were grumbling about being told to report to city hall with their families if they wanted to get their checks. Well, that was the last I saw or heard from any of them, and then a few months later the cops started rounding up former recipients. I lost all my friends in such a short time…there were a lot of empty apartments in the area after that, but it still wasn’t safe to go out alone at night, between the ‘off the grid’ squatters and the vigilante gangs that assumed that anyone in our area was a system leach in hiding.”

I shake my head in amazement at what this poor girl had to endure even before the system got around to murdering her mother and trying to do the same to her, and pull her into a tight embrace while I whisper into her ear. “Sweety, you really are an amazing young woman, and I’m so happy that my girls can have you as a role model. You’re going to be wonderful, and a great mother to your own kids when they come along.”

Sarah suddenly pulls back and starts to tremble again. “Meg, I don’t think I can do this – try to replace you I mean. Really, how can your girls not resent me? And your husband, he’s just going to see me as some dumb kid, and a trashy one at that. I’m just not in your league…” Suddenly Sarah’s eyes widen. “Wait a minute. Why do I have to replace you at all? Can’t Alistair just buy you like he did me? Please, please ask him to do it! I-I don’t care if you have to take me back! Please…” She trails off, obviously seeing the pain in my eyes, so I close them and take a deep, calming breath.

After a moment I feel that I have the strength to finally say what has been percolating through my brain since Alistair revealed Sarah’s purpose. “Hun, even if he could, I can’t ask him to do it. I have to do this by the book, stay unremarkable and anonymous, and I need you to be there for my girls. I can’t explain just yet, but there’s something terrible that’s going to happen to them if we don’t do everything just right…and, well, my part in the plan is to let the government murder me. I really wish, more than anything, that I could change things, be there for my girls, watch them grow up, get married…it’s breaking my heart to leave them, but this is how it has to be.”

Considering that I’ve just put my stamp of approval on my own death warrant, I’m not feeling too bad…in fact, all things considered, I feel kind of liberated, freed to focus on the moment, and the people around me, like I used to before that stupid letter arrived to fuck everything up.

Sarah, however, seems to be taking it rather poorly. Those amazing blue eyes are impossibly huge now as they fill with tears, and that perfect pout of hers is trembling so much that I just have to still it with a kiss. She’s delicious, just like I knew she would be, but we’re on a tight schedule, so I keep it short and sweet. I pull away and turn her by the shoulders until she’s looking into the full-length mirror next to Cynthia’s closet. “As for you being a kid, or trash…look at yourself, really look, and tell me what you see.”

Sarah is trembling again, poor thing. “I-I don’t know. I really don’t know what I am anymore.”

I smile at her through the mirror and start to pull her long hair into a ponytail. “You know what I see? I see a beautiful, graceful, strong young woman with so much to offer that any man would be a fool to turn you down. And let me tell you, my John is no fool. Really, look at yourself again, but this time ignore all the things society has been trying to say to you about yourself.”

She’s taking me seriously, really trying to see what I do, and it seems to be putting some confidence into her. And really, there’s no way that she can’t be affected that way – I chose her outfit just for this purpose. She’s wearing a white silk suit with a skirt that is fairly modest, but looks less so because of those long, long legs and the fuck me pumps that I picked out for her. The whole thing is tight enough to be sexy as hell, but still lends its wearer an air of professionalism and purity that strengthens Sarah’s natural grace and poise.

Sarah just stares at herself for a while, eyes wide with surprise and amazement. “It-it’s like I’m a whole new person…”

Unable to resist her innocence and child-like wonder, I pull my successor into my arms and hold her tight. “Baby, that was always there, you’ve always been that person. I just opened your eyes, took you out of the cocoon. Now let’s get me changed so we can go out there and blow those guys away!”

Not overly familiar with the layout of the Allison household, I figure that the best way to get out back will be through the kitchen, so after I get changed, we make our way there. At the entrance to the room we stop, surprised to find Sheryl standing naked in the middle of a large tub and glistening magnificently while two young women that I’ve never seen before rub oil into her skin.

Sheryl’s face breaks out into a delightful grin as she spies us, and our matching outfits. “Oh good, I was hoping you girls would make use of one of our sets – Cyn and I used to love going out and teasing the men with those! We never failed to get a reaction, and I don’t think you foxes will have any trouble either.” She gestures toward the kitchen table, where a pair of covered plates is waiting. “Pull up a seat and have a bite of Cynthia while the girls finish me up here – I want you to escort me out to the spitting table.”

Sheryl is used to being in a position of authority; Sarah and I automatically obey her commanding voice and head for the table, even as I look at her in confusion. “Wait, we weren’t gone that long! How is Cynthia done already?”

Sheryl laughs a little. “Don’t worry, you’re not losing track of time. Since we weren’t going to be treated to a pole dance, we decided to butcher and grill her, so that I could have a little taste before I go over the coals. My Paul gave me her left nipple – god she tastes good! But you’ll be finding that out in a moment. Meg, your plate has the blue cover, and, um, Sarah is it? Sarah has the pink one. Go on, sit and eat!”

We sit as commanded and take the covers off our plates, and I let out a gasp of surprise. There before me is Cynthia’s perfectly cooked filet, looking just as good as it did when I tasted it raw. “Oh my god, Sheryl, this is too much – shouldn’t your husband be getting this?”

Sheryl’s laughing again – I think she’s been waiting to spring this on me, just to see the no doubt stupid expression that is on my face right now. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. Paul will still be having mine, and he’d better be satisfied with it, or I’ll haunt him! No, we both agreed that you earned the honor, and besides, I think she’d have preferred that a woman be the last to eat her sweet spot, especially a sexy one like you.”

After taking a moment to pay the customary respects to the source of our food, Sarah and I start to eat – she has a nice thigh steak, and from the look on her face, this is her first taste of girlmeat. That look also tells me that she’s just as blown away by the quality of the taste as I am by my own first fillet. We are both eating slowly, in a rather reverent silence, until Sheryl speaks up once more. “Well Meg, while we have a spare moment here, don’t you think you should warn her a little about your husband’s, shall we say, special practices?”

I don’t even bother to ask how Sheryl knows about my John’s sexual tastes – it’s not like we’ve been all that secretive about it after all. I do hesitate for a moment as I try to figure out how to prepare Sarah without scaring her half to death. “Sarah dear, how much do you know about Domination and submission?”

Wow, her eyes just get soooo amazingly big! “Y-you mean like whips and chains and stuff?”

I chuckle a little at that. “Chains, or more likely rope and cuffs, sure. Whips, no. Yeah, sometimes we have fun with a little paddling, especially when I do the schoolgirl ruetine, and of course he punishes me with spankings and such, but that’s about it. I’m not into pain any more than you are. Hate it actually. What I am into, is putting myself under the total control of the man that I love, showing him the ultimate in trust, and being treated like dirt under circumstances that I have control over. I think you’re a natural submissive like me – so used to being dominated and humiliated that you are going to have a craving for it, one that my John can satisfy safely and with love, while giving you a normal, healthy relationship otherwise.”

Sarah forgets about her eating for the moment. “Wait, I know that I can be pretty shy or whatever, but I just can’t see you submitting to anyone. You’re so strong, so self-assured!”

I motion for her to finish eating as I explain. “Where do you think those traits come from? Honestly, a good submissive is far stronger inside than anyone else you’ll meet. They have to be, otherwise they burn out on it or have a breakdown of some sort. No, what I have with my John has made me what I am today. And please don’t think that he’ll start right off with this stuff on you. It’s something that usually comes slowly, though as usual I seem to be the exception to that rule.”

I take a final bite of Cynthia’s delicious cunt and pause for a moment to savor it, and then I continue. “Understand, I grew up learning to be submissive because of my father. I was raised in a situation quite the opposite of yours. My parents were both well paid, respected professionals, and they expected excellence and perfect behavior from us kids, no exceptions. My whole life’s course was laid out for me from an early age, and I was so much the daddy’s girl that it never occurred to me that there was any other way. I also never stopped to think about why my dad put me down so much even though I was always top of my class, and the proverbial little miss goody two shoes.”

Finished eating, I stand and shoo away the two girls – obviously Alistair’s interns – and continue my story while putting the finishing touches on Sheryl’s oiling. Sheryl for her part starts moaning and writhing a bit, as I make sure her choicest bits are well oiled indeed. “Then when I was fourteen, everything changed – I just didn’t realize how much until later. The president made the culling announcements, and the role of women was changed forever, but us upper middle classers never really noticed the difference for a few years. I continued on my normal course, focused entirely on school and a few close friends and staying out of trouble, even the good kind, until I was your age, and my older sister got picked in the lottery. She was the first person I knew that was killed by the new laws, and she had just finished her degree. I was devastated; my whole world view went out the door. I kept up my grades, but my best friends and I were totally disillusioned, and so we decided one day that there we needed to find out what life was really about, before it was too late. So that very day, we got some fake IDs, took the bus downtown, and went into the first BDSM club we found. See, we didn’t want to get our cherries busted, we wanted to get them destroyed, and we thought this would be the best way to do that. What a trio of stupid cunts we were.”

I pause to support Sheryl as she has a nice big cum, and then motion for Sarah to get Sheryl’s sandals as I help her from the tub. “Anyway, we didn’t realize that all the sex clubs were now getting permits to act as snuff sites as well, as long as the forms were followed to a certain degree, so when we signed up to be auctioned off, it never occurred to us to put getting snuffed or live cooked on our no-no list. I ended up watching the two people I loved most in the world up to that point die in terror, and I would have joined them if my John hadn’t happened in. He knew me through my father, and I had always had a bit of a crush on him…god I was so embarrassed when he bought me, but pretty excited too. Then he strapped me down and paddled my ass black and blue while he made me watch my friends die. He was soooo pissed at me! I thought it was just because of my dad and all, but actually he’d been watching me for a long time, so when I realized he’d saved my life and begged him to keep me as his slave, he took me to my dad and asked to marry me instead. From then on I’ve been the typical loving, spoiled wife on most days, and his slave and total humiliation slut on our naughty days. It’s been a wonderful fourteen years. I have no regrets, and I don’t think you will either. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

I give Sarah a big hug, and then direct her to the other side of Sheryl. “Okay Sheryl honey, let’s get you out there before the guys start to riot.”

[center]Part Eight – Momentous Penetrations[/center]

When we step outside the men are all standing around chatting, other than a small cluster around the poor, tired looking interns, and then they notice us and a hush falls over them like a wave. Sheryl raises her head proudly. “Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet my assistants, Meg and Sarah!” Whistles and catcalls greet us. “Now, these wonderful ladies have volunteered to help you guys out while I’m entertaining you with my pole dance, so Alistair’s interns can go get some work done.” More cheers, and a relieved look from the two girls. “I want to thank you for the wonderful time you’ve shown me, and I hope you enjoy eating me as much as you did my daughter. I’m sure you’ll forgive me if I also hope that my gift to you today helps to cement your relationship as clients with my beloved husband.”

As Sheryl’s audience chuckles at those final words, her just mentioned husband approaches and makes them her literal final words, at least to the general audience. After giving her a long, soulful kiss, her Paul holds up the ball-gag that has become a traditional signal to start off a girl’s ‘final inspections’ by the audience. Sheryl smiles gamely before showing her final consent to her own demise by placing and securing the gag in her mouth herself. Paul caresses her cheek softly for a few moments, staring deep into her eyes before covering them with a blindfold, a symbol of her control being taken from her. He whispers softly into her ear, and then he steps back so that she can take her final walk.

With Sarah and I on either side to guide her, Sheryl carefully makes her way blindly through the crowd of men, pausing at our signal before each one so that they can pretend to inspect her meat. What most of them do instead is to take this last opportunity to feel her up. By the moans and gasps of pleasure coming from behind that gag I don’t think she minds very much.

Usually on these final walks the escorts tend to find themselves receiving a bit of attention of their own, and at the start of this one I was already kind of juicing up in anticipation of that, while at the same time worrying a bit over what Sarah’s reactions might be, but as we make our way through the crowd of excited men, not a one does anything inappropriate with us. We don’t even get an ‘accidental’ grope, nothing. I’m not sure if Alistair had a talk with them before we came out, or if it’s the professional looking outfits that we’re wearing (usually escorts are scantily clad at best), but by the time we get to the prep area, I’m feeling more than a little frustrated and needy.

The prep area is fairly simple and to the point – a picnic table to keep equipment and such on, the spitting rig, and a pair of portable stocks that were originally intended for those hapless interns but are now most likely for Sarah and I – should be fun. In the meantime however, Bob makes a tourniquet on Sheryl’s arm so that he can shoot her up with some kind of red liquid. While we wait a moment for the shot of whatever to take effect, he hands a pair of shot glasses to Sarah and I that are filled with some kind of pinkish stuff.

I give the butcher the Raised Eyebrows of Critical Inquiry, and he explains in a surprisingly detailed manner – with a firmness that seems to indicate that I should memorize the info he’s giving me.

“Don’t worry ladies, your drinks won’t do anything permanent or unpleasant, they’ll just give your stamina and libidos a boost so you can deal with all these cocks a little easier. Sheryl and her daughter had a version of that earlier, but that one’s meant for those not long for this world, ‘cause it also sterilizes the digestive tract and shuts down the kidneys so I don’t have to deal with gutting. That’s the first stage of a live roaster’s treatment; the second is that shot I just gave her. That one’s in the process of killing her ability to feel pain, and it’s enhancing her pleasure centers so much that she won’t be rational for much longer. Both of those are only legal for a registered butcher or executioner to have, so if you know anyone planning on live roasting, make sure they give me a call.”

Bob gives Sheryl a gentle hug and gives her a tender kiss on the forehead, and then lifts her up onto the spitting rig. As he straps her to the thing in a modified doggy-style position that shows off her lush ass beautifully, Sarah and I wash the dirt and grass stains from her feet and coat them in oil. She must be pretty ticklish, because we set off some cute squirming and giggling during our efforts, earning some eye rolls from Bob.

Soon enough our hostess and main course is secured and immobile. Her husband finally arrives, apparently having been busy welcoming some late guests, and he pops off Sheryl’s gag. Removing her blindfold and looking deeply into her eyes, he whispers some final words of love, and then he stands and slides his cock into her welcoming mouth. She has a twinkle in her eye and starts to wriggle her ass invitingly at Bob.

Surprisingly Bob accepts Sheryl’s invitation not with his cock, but with the spit, sliding it smoothly and gently into her sex until her lower lips are stretched tight around it. She’s moaning around her husbands cock and straining against her bonds to try and hump back at the spit as Bob fucks it in and out of her. Soon enough she starts to shudder in orgasm, and that’s when the spit is finally shoved into her for real, past the point of no return.

Sheryl squeals and jerks a bit, and I can see some blood dripping from her cunt, but she doesn’t seem to be in any pain – I guess it’s no surprise if getting impaled is startling whether it hurts or not. Just in case she’s getting uncomfortable or nervous, and, well, just because Sheryl’s tits are really hard to resist, I signal to Sarah and we start to suckle at them while running our hands along her lovely body. I don’t know whether it’s from our efforts, the sensations of the spitting, or both, but soon she’s quivering and moaning again, the vibrations in her throat sending her Paul over the edge and he cums down her throat.

He withdraws from her mouth, but we only get to hear her cries of ecstasy for a few moments before she starts to violently gag. Suddenly the retching stops, and the tip of the spit slides out of her mouth. She has this really startled look on her face that only becomes more pronounced as Bob moves past me to cut her windpipe and put a breathing tube in place. She seems to calm down after that though, and the spit is shoved the rest of the way in without any mishaps.

The guys slide some crossbars onto the spit, and then the four of us make quick work of removing Sheryl’s straps and securing her limbs to the aforementioned crossbars. I see her twitching her hips experimentally, and then she catches my eye and winks at me with joy in her eyes. Then the guys lift her spit and carry her towards the barbeque pit, and she closes her eyes to concentrate on learning how to best fuck the spit.

The four of us watch Sheryl’s beautiful body writhing on the spit as it rotates her over the coals for a few minutes, and then Sarah and I are led back to the prep area, where our stocks are waiting for us. These ones are pretty nice, as they have an adjustable support for our torsos so that we can stay in there for long periods without damaging our backs. We start to strip off, but only to our underclothes, which seem to be a hit with the guys - we keep our fuck me pumps on as well.

As Sarah and I are secured, we are both acting more than a little wanton – those pink drinks really do rev your sex drive up in a hurry! Out of the corner of my eye I see Bob slowly entering Sarah with that wonderful cock of his, both of them groaning in pleasure, and then I stop paying attention as I feel hands on my hips and a cock spreading my cunt lips. At first I think that it’s Paul, but as I’m entered more fully, I realize that I know this cock very, very well. I groan in lust and a bit of apprehension, and then call out, asking my husband what the hell he’s doing here…

Before I even finish calling out to the man that I believe is my husband, he confirms his identity with several hard slaps to my ass – he has a thing for asses, so I’m more than familiar with what a spanking during sex feels like from him. He gives my cunt a few more thrusts, and then switches to my ass, forcing his way in with only my cunt-juice for lube.

I’m grunting loudly enough from the hard anal fucking that he’s giving me, that I barely hear him speaking. “Slave, you’ve been a bad girl today, haven’t you?” His voice is very stern, and I can see Sarah throwing worried looks in my direction, but my John is using his ‘play anger’ voice with me, with an undercurrent of amusement, so I’m not worried.

I give Sarah a reassuring wink and grin, and then compose myself, bringing out my submissive side, hoping that my husband and Master has some delightfully wicked and humiliating punishments in mind for me. “Yes – uh - Master, I - I’ve been terrible today. I dallied – oh, god - in running my errands, I came to a – oh – a party without permission, I’ve been a d-dirty slut, and I – oh, yes - killed an innocent girl. I even obtained my replacement without – ugh - without consulting you, Master. My Master, I’m so sorry for being such a wicked, willful little whooorrrre…”

That last bit is me cumming buckets, more from the degradation than anything else I think – well, and the anticipation of what might happen from here, of course. I’m so lost in it that I’m barely aware of my John filling my ass with his seed until I see him come around in front of me to have his dick cleaned off. I know, ATM is nasty to most girls, and really when we have straight sex he doesn’t make me do it, but when I’m in a mode like right now, I revel in it. I mean, I keep myself cleaned out back there anyway, so there’s just the hint of an earthy taste to it, along with the saltiness of his cum of course – not that hard to deal with, really.

As I eagerly try to get at my husband’s cock to do my duties, he surprises me by shoving a ring-gag into my mouth, spreading my jaw painfully wide. I look up at him in confusion, and he smiles down at me before shoving his cock into my mouth for a good wash. “No, I’m not worried about anyone getting bitten by you, girl. This is just part of your punishment – I know how much you like to talk while you’re getting fucked. The rest of your punishment is that I’m going to take this new girl home, I’m going to make sweet, sweet love to her all night long, and you’re going to miss out on it because you’ll be here, getting fucked, spanked and pissed on by all of Paul’s clients, our neighbors and our friends. Oh, forgot to mention: Sheryl and your friend Alistair called me and told me what was going on, and we all decided that after the client party we should have your going away party, so I called everyone and you’re in for a very, very long night. Guess it would have been better if you didn’t have so many people that like you enough to come say goodbye.” God, this is an even better punishment than I was hoping for – damn, I love my husband.

John pulls out of my mouth and we pause for a moment, watching Sarah’s perfect body shudder exquisitely as Bob brings her to a breathtaking orgasm. A moment after that, and my husband goes to help my protégé out of her stock while my first pair of clients spit roast me with their cocks. As the aggressive fucking from either end jerks me about, John returns with a nervous looking Sarah in tow. He pats me on the head and pulls her in close. “Sorry you can’t watch your friend’s pole dance, but don’t worry, Paul is taping it, and he’ll let us borrow it before you have to…” He stops, and I look up in curiosity. I’m shocked as I see my usually totally in control husband fighting back tears, and I realize that he hasn’t truly accepted what is going to happen to me, that he can’t bring himself to say it.

I wish that I could get up and hold my husband, comfort him, but instead I give Sarah a significant look, and she seems to understand. She kneels down and gives me an awkward hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry about him, Meg. I’ll take care of it. You just enjoy your party, and I’ll see you in the morning. You - you are going to enjoy it, aren’t you?” She’s frowning now in worry for me, and so soon after that initial, self-assured statement – John’s going to have some work cut out for him, rebuilding her confidence. I give her a wink, trying to put a smile in my eyes since the ring gag prevents my doing it the more traditional way, and she seems to relax a bit before she goes to get dressed.

As the sexy, seemingly perfectly matched pair moves off out of sight, I can’t help but imagine the two of them making love, fucking, playing D/s games, and I feel my drug enhanced libido going into overdrive. Losing myself in sensation, I let all my worries for the future slip away, and just enjoy each moment as it comes to me…

[center]Part Nine – Dawning Notions[/center]

You know, I’ve always thought I had an overabundance of sexual stamina. During overnights when I was still a virgin, my best friends would try their damnedest to over-stimulate me, make me cry uncle, and every time they’d pass out before I reached my limits. My husband, while incredibly satisfying for me, has only ever been able to sexually exhaust me once. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the time he brought over all of his co-workers, male and female, to have a go at me on my thirtieth birthday – though I have to say that was one of the yummier experiences in my life, especially when I found out that I was the last woman to taste his perky little secretary – she made an idiot bet involving a noose and her ability to hold in a bullet vibrator the very next day. Nope, it was the time that I was strapped down with one of those magic-wand type vibrator things strapped right on my clit for an entire night – and I still don’t count that, since it was my clit going super sore that made me cry and beg for mercy. I probably could have gone for a few more orgasms if it weren’t for that.

That said, by the time dawn rolls around, ending my time in the stocks, I’m pretty well done for. Mind you, I was given the occasional break for hydration, to try out some of Sheryl’s wonderful meat, for removing the gag to prevent damage to my jaw (though speech was still verboten) and of course to get hosed off and cleaned out, but I really think that if I hadn’t had Bob’s magic drink in me, I’d have collapsed long ago. As it is, when Alistair and Bob finally arrive after a good night’s rest (green I am, green with envy!) and gently release me from my bonds, I’m about worthless.

My pair of rescuers carries me over to the designated cleaning area, where they use the garden hose to rinse me off, gently sponging my goose-pimpled, somewhat bruised and chafed skin. As it’s an outdoor water line, it’s cold water, and in the cool of dawn it leaves me shivery and uncomfortable to say the least, but at least that wakes me out of the haze I’ve been living in for the past twelve or so hours.

Alistair is blushing as he handles my slippery body. “My apologies, dear, for not giving you a proper bathing, but last night’s host apparently found a sweet young pair of twins that attended your portion of the party, and wound up being – ahem – ‘comforted’ by them during his night of mourning. We felt it would be rude to disturb them, not to mention he or one of his guests locked the doors and I neglected to bring any lock-picking tools with me. Luckily those same twins had the forethought to leave some clothes out for you. I’ll go fetch those momentarily.” Twins, huh? Probably the daughters of my neighbor Sharon; if so, Paul is one hell of a lucky man.

I give the guys a weary but friendly smile. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m just glad to be clean. If I have the energy, I’ll shower when I get home, or knowing my husband, he’ll be waiting to bathe me himself.” Wow, suddenly the image of being washed by my husband and my protégé brings a tingle back in my sore cunt – I really am a hopeless slut, aren’t I?

A few minutes later and Bob is finishing up toweling me dry while Alistair brings over a fresh set of Sheryl’s clothes for me to wear. Apparently today is a blue day, for cobalt is the feature color of the matched teddy set, stockings and loose, silky little off the shoulder dress. Even the damn pumps match – I really don’t want to know how much Sheryl and her Cynthia spent on clothes over the years.

Bob hands me a matching purse, and I notice that it’s rather heavy. Looking inside, I see a syringe and a largish bottle of red liquid. I look up in curiosity at Bob, and he draws me into a gentle hug so that he can lean down and whisper in my ear. “That’s the stuff I gave Sheryl last night, you remember?” I nod. “Well, half the syringe of that stuff, and you’ll enjoy the hell out of your, um, processing. No more than that, though! A full dose will overwhelm your nervous system in ten minutes or less. You’ll lose everything but sight and hearing, and you won’t be able to move. They use that dosage on runners and criminals.”

I reach up and caress Bob’s face. “Thank you, thank you so much. I think I know what kind of risk you’re taking here, so I’ll be careful, but…you can’t know how much you’ve just helped me.”

Bob just gives me one of those sad smiles of his and backs off. “It’s no problem, really. I had that left over from a live roast that was a pain slut – she didn’t want any drugs, so I’ve just had that laying around. Officially it was destroyed, so as long as you don’t talk about this, I’ll be fine. Now, I’ve got to go open the store. You take care of yourself sweety.”

I give him a kiss, and he walks off. I sigh, and then close up my new purse, hiding its illicit contents. Alistair then takes me by the shoulders and starts to guide me towards that ever so beautiful Rolls. When we get to it, I open the rear doors and tug the confused man inside with me. As soon as I have the door shut, I start to gently but passionately kiss him. He pulls back, and I know what he’s going to say, so I firmly place a finger on his lips. “Shhh, I know you want to be true to your wife, but you’ve been such a sweet friend, and this is the last of my going away party. You can imagine I’m her, or you can just look at this as a condemned woman’s last request, but either way, I’m going to make love to you.”

For a moment, he looks like he wants to protest, but that’s when I unzip his fly and reach inside, finding him hard and ready. I pull it out, grinning at him wickedly, and he gives in, pulling me onto his lap while lovingly kissing my face and neck. I’m practically purring as I arch my back, tugging at my dress to free my tits and present them to him.

As my gentle lover starts to nuzzle at my breasts, I reach down, slide the crotch of my panties out of the way and guide him into my still sore but more than ready cunt. The fit is perfect, as is the rhythm of his thrusts up into me, the way that he holds my waist to guide my motions over him. It’s pretty straightforward and banal, as far as sex acts go, but somehow the connection between us make this by far the most special coupling I’ve had since my wedding night. I feel guilty for a moment as I realize that I’m more than a little in love with this man, and then I shove my concerns aside and just enjoy the slow, gentle ride.

I have no idea how long we went at it in that car, but considering the age of my partner, it was quite the marathon session, ending (predictably, I suppose) in the missionary, with my legs wrapped around him and a strange, long, languorous orgasm carrying me away as I felt him finally letting go and filling me with his cum. I have this curious wish that his seed would take hold despite my being on birth control, and then I drift off into exhausted sleep, trusting Alistair to take care of things from here.

I’m awoken not by my gentle friend, my loving husband or my sweet protégé, but by the gleeful shouts of two excited young girls exploring every nook and cranny of the Rolls. Sitting up and pulling off a blanket that Alistair must have put over me after I passed out, I smile at my daughters and pull them into a tight hug. They squirm around a bit, but put up with me as I just take a moment to appreciate how lucky I am to have them in my life.

Finally letting them go, I stumble out of the car, still sore and weary from my long, long night. Ever the gentleman, Alistair is waiting right there to help me, of course, but so is my next door neighbor Sharon, of the ‘comfort twins’. She’s also one of my best friends, and my daughters’ godmother. We first met during Lamas classes. Neither one of us enjoyed or finished those classes, but we left them as a near inseparable duo.

Sharon, who’s a big, strong lady, pulls me into one of her traditional rib-cracking hugs and starts in on me in her distinctive Texas drawl. “Meg, I aughta tan your hide! Why didn’t you tell me those fu- um, them government jerks picked you? I found out when Johnny-boy called about watching the girls last night – you owe me a goodbye session since I couldn’t go to your shindig by the way!”

Overwhelmed by both the hug and the barrage of speech coming down on me, all I can do at first is grunt and try to extricate myself. Eventually I win my way free, and give Sharon a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for watching the girls honey, and don’t worry, we’ll have a good long talk and…such…very, very soon. In the meantime, I need to get inside to see what John’s up to, before I let the girls in, if you know what I mean…”

Sharon smirks. “Yeah, I saw that sweet thing he came home with last night, so I made sure to check in a little bit ago. They were having breakfast in bed, last I saw, so I’m keeping the girls over for breakfast.”

“Thanks Sharon, you’re a lifesaver. Um, just a little heads up, but your girls stayed over at the party, with a fresh widower-via-live cooking and possibly some of his clients, so you might want to give them a call to make sure they’re not getting married or playing any dangerous games right now.”

Sharon frowns and swears under her breath, barely remembering the presence of tender ears. “Those sneaky little – I’ve told them not to let those types catch them alone…nothing but trouble. Well, what can you do?” She herds my girls toward her house and waves back to me distractedly. “Thanks babe, I’ll see you later, gotta go for now!”

A moment later, and Alistair and I are standing next to the car in bemused but comfortable silence. Finally I give him a tender hug and kiss. “Thank you for everything. You really made all of this very special, and of course I can never repay you for helping Sarah the way you did. You’re one in a million.”

He just smiles amiably. “Not a problem, my dear. It was all my pleasure.”

I give him a sly grin. “Well, that’s not strictly true now is it? Anyway, I hate to ask, but I need two favors before I get inside.” He just nods in acceptance. “Um, well first off…are the twins okay, do you think?”

Alistair looks thoughtful. “Well, now, that’s hard to say. I mean, the locked doors and quiet of the house this morning could be a bad sign given the nature of the men involved, but I don’t think Paul would be the type to do any harm to them – not to mention that he has to know what a pain it is to get retroactive processing permits. Of course, his clients wouldn’t care about that, given that they are from out of the area, so it really comes down to how reckless those girls are. You’d know better than I would.”

I bite my lip in thought myself. The twins, Carrie and Caylee, are smart, sweet, generally well-behaved girls, but Carrie is a bit naïve, and Caylee is a bit boy-crazy. I have to shrug my shoulders at the situation – I’ll find out one way or another when I next talk to Sharon. Meantime, I have other fish to fry. “Okay, now for the other favor, the big one. See, I have a plan, one that could save my daughters from a bleak future, but there are some hard to get things I need…”

[center][color=blue]Continued below…[/color][/center]

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[center]Part Ten –[/center]

As I enter my home through the backdoor, I drop my purse on the kitchen table and feel tempted to take a seat and relax my aching body, but I just know that if I do, my husband will find me passed out on the floor later. Ah well, no rest for the weary – not that I’m not looking forward to seeing John and Sarah together in the buff, by any means.

The house is still and quiet for the moment, and I take the time to just enjoy the peace as I slowly work my way towards the stairs. Just as I reach the foot of them I hear a delighted giggle come from above me, followed by some very cute squeals of protest interspersed with a more desperate sounding cluster of giggles, and I find myself smirking. John has this weird radar for girls’ tickle spots, even the ones that protest that they aren’t ticklish at all, and he takes a perverse delight in using it mercilessly on us. From the sound of things as I get to the top of the stairs and head towards our bedroom, he’s not pulling any punches, so to speak, and Sarah should be quite thankful for my arrival.

Speaking of my delightful protégé, she’s squealing and squeaking so much that neither one of them notices when I slip through the door, or even when I approach quite close to them, grinning as I watch Sarah’s long body squirming delightfully all over our four-poster bed as she tries to escape her tormentor. I notice that John has actually made her pee herself a bit, and I can’t hold back a snort of amusement.

John looks back for a second with a saucy grin and a wink, and then goes back to his games, while his victim tosses her gorgeous blond hair all over and tries to beg for my help between giggling fits. Too bad for her that she looks so good writhing around like that, because I just can’t resist joining in on the fun!

Soon enough we are forced to halt, however, as Sarah starts choking on her own saliva, one of those things that happens sooner or later when someone’s seemingly trying to tickle you to death. Sarah is red in the face, and tears are streaming from her eyes, but she gives me a childish grin in between coughing fits, so I’m not worried for her or anything. John gets up to fetch a glass of water for her, so I cuddle up against her side and rub her back, giving her a few pecks on the cheek while I’m at it. “So, how was he? Did you have fun last night, do anything I wouldn’t do?”

She giggles and lays her head on my shoulder, her sleek, sweaty body plastered against me. “Is there anything you won’t do if he asks you to?” I put on a mock-thoughtful expression, making her giggle again before she sighs in obvious contentment and continues. “God, he is soooo good. I mean, that one nice guy at the store wasn’t bad, and that butcher, um, Bob, he made me feel incredible…but your husband…”

I take Sarah’s hand and interrupt her with a kiss as John comes back. “Actually sweety, it might not be official, but from now on, he’s your husband too.” I turn to John as he hands a glass over to a shocked looking Sarah. “Isn’t that so, dear?”

Sarah looks back and forth between us, a priceless look of surprise and confusion on her face and her water still in John’s hand. He laughs a little, puts the glass on a nightstand and then lays down to pull us both into a loving hug. “Yep, right as always my little slave.” He gives me a long kiss, and then turns similar attention to Sarah before backing off and caressing her arm reassuringly. “Don’t look surprised, sweet cheeks. How often do you think I spend an intimate night alone with a woman - without Meg here, that is? The answer is never. That’s right, never. We might swing, but it’s only in the orgy or threesome or sex party type sense. Wife swapping any other way is for idiots.”

Sarah still looks very unsure of herself. “Um, sure, but…well, you have a wife, Sir, and I’m just a nobody, you could take me as your slave and…” I perk up in interest at the way she says Sir, where you can hear the capital letter, and the way she seems to get a slight enjoyment of the word ‘slave’. Hmmm, something tells me that my girl got herself some kink to go with the tender stuff last night.

John, however, just sighs. “No, sweety, you and Meg are my slaves, but only consensually – I don’t do real slaves, not unless it’s a temporary thing from a bet or whatever. And you, my dear, are by no means temporary. Meg chose better than you can know, and I intend to spend years letting you know that. Besides, how do you think my little girls will react if their new mother isn’t married to their daddy? You need to have their respect, and that’s the fastest way to it, end of discussion. Now, who wants a shower?”

As much as I could use a real shower, and as much as I would love to run my hands along both John and Sarah’s perfect, soapy bodies, I’m just too exhausted. I must look pretty beat, because they decide to help me get my dress off (boy does John like what I have under it, he looks like he wants to attack me, tired or no!) and to get me under the covers. Then comes some sweet kisses from the both of them, and it’s off to a deep, dreamless sleep.

I’m awoken by two bundles of energy bouncing on the bed and giggling incessantly. Those giggles become much more intense as I pull my daughters to me and start to tickle them. “My lord girls, bouncing on the bed at your age? Whatever will your friends think when I tell them about it?”

I get a desperate chorus of “MOM!” out of that one, and promises to never, ever, ever do it again if I’ll just keep it to myself. Heh, who needs spankings when you can take advantage of peer pressure. That taken care of, and sleep now impossible to get back to, I start to slide out of bed when Amber, the more serious and responsible of the two, gasps and grabs my arm. “Oh, crud – momma, we forgot! We were told to wake you up, ‘cause Auntie Sharon is all upset ‘bout something…um, daddy said you should talk to her, she’s, um, in the kitchen waiting with daddy and that Sarah girl.”

Julie, the more fun loving and easily distracted twin, tries to get a word in edgewise, and then gapes as I jump out of bed and slide into my new silk dress. “Whoa, momma – those are some fancy duds! Where’dja get ‘em?”

I roll my eyes as I head out of the room. “Girls, I know that Sharon and her son don’t use the best of English, but I expect better out of you – got it?” There’s an answering chorus of ‘yes mommas’. “As to your other question, and any others you want to ask about what’s going on, the answer is none of your beeswax. Now go play in your rooms please, and I’ll send Sarah up to keep you company – you’ll like her, really!”

My girls look doubtful, but obediently shuffle off to their room as I charge down the stairs, feeling newly energized and anxious for my best friend.

Everyone looks up from their coffee cups as I enter the kitchen, and the funereal silence of the room, along with Sharon’s red, red eyes, makes my heart leap into my throat. I dash over to my oldest living friend’s side and kneel down to hold her close. “Sharon – the twins?” I hold my breath, dreading what she might have to tell me.

“I-I don’t know. Their phones are off. They didn’t show up to work this morning. None of their friends have heard from them since yesterday…oh god, Meg…what if-if they…”

I want to cry with Sharon, knowing in my heart that none of the things she’s mentioned points to a happy conclusion, but seeing her distress puts me in problem solving mode. I stand up and reach for my phone. “Did you contact Paul Allison, the host of the party last night?”

She shakes her head. “There’s too damn many Swedes in the area. I didn’t know which Allison to call…”

After shooing Sarah and John out, I give Sharon a tight smile and hold out a hand for silence as I go through my cell, looking for Sheryl’s number. It should be in there from when I was on the PTA. It takes a moment to find it, as I put her number under her job title, but soon enough I’m on the phone with a groggy, hung over sounding Paul. “Hey there Paul, it’s Meg, from the party last night? Um, do you remember some twins hanging out there last night?”

“Uh, well, sure. I spent some time with them after Sheryl was done. They were really sweet, kinda wild but in a good way, if you know what I mean. Um, I’m not going to get in trouble for that am I?”

Despite the gravity of the situation I have to crack a smile at that – Paul really is a good guy; too many men nowadays view teenyboppers of all varieties to be fair game. “No, no trouble there Paul, they’re legal. Problem is, they haven’t come home yet, and their mom is worried. Any ideas?”

He lets out a relieved sigh, and then pauses in thought. “Hmmm, well, I wanted them to stay with me, but I was tired way before they were…um, I think they left with one of my clients, went to some Spider Club or something.” Shit, that’s my Club, the Spider Web – a very bad place for a pair of green, attention getting fuck bunnies like the twins. I barely hear Paul continuing. “I can’t remember which client it was, I’ll call around and find out.”

I try not to sound frustrated. “Okay Paul, thank you so much. Call as soon as you hear anything, please.”

We say our goodbyes and hang up. I let out a long sigh, and then turn to give Sharon my ominous news…

[center]Part Eleven – Informative Calls[/center]

After I deliver my news, we sit in silence for a moment, but Sharon really isn’t the type for silence, especially when she’s upset. Instead, she usually talks about everything except what’s troubling her. “So blondie there is the new you, huh? Don’t know’s I like the idea of Johnny-boy paradin’ that Barbie-doll around while your still kickin’”

I smile and squeeze Sharon’s hand, which I’ve been holding this whole time. “Oh, no – you’ve got it all wrong! See, I was the one that picked Sarah out, and before John even knew I was looking. To be honest, I don’t think he would have even tried to find anyone otherwise…and my girls are just too young to be going without a mother. I mean, they’re going to be starting in with puberty, and boys, and girl politics any time now! Can you imagine my dear husband trying to deal with that?”

We share a small laugh at that, and then we both jump as my cell rings. I see that it’s Paul calling back and I have trouble answering because of my suddenly shaking hands. Paul, sensible guy that he is, wastes no time on pleasantries. “Hey, I found the client that took them out, but he isn’t sure what happened to them. Didn’t even know their names, to be honest. All he could say was that he went to that club, the, uh, Spider Web I think he said, and that he got kicked out pretty quick for being to drunk. Says the girls opted to stay.”

My voice is small, distant as I think of what happens to sexy, unescorted girls in places like that. “Oh, okay…thanks for the help…”

Paul’s voice oozes sympathy. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help…call me if you think of anything else…”

I click off my cell, take a deep, steadying breath, and turn to Sharon. “They went into my club, then stayed when the guy they were with got booted. That’s all we’ll know until the club opens this evening; John and I will go check their records and talk to the owner then. In the meantime, Sarah’s going to watch the kids, I’m going to go pre-register for my processing, and you’re going back to your place to wait for John – no, not for anything kinky, I know you’re in no mood…but if anyone can keep you from going nuts right now, it’ll be him.”

I decide to drive myself instead of taking the bus to the slaughterhouse, er, I mean the ‘Community Processing Facility’. I suppose the official title is more appropriate, given that it handles the paperwork for slave contracts, bets and other such agreements, as well as for home and retroactive processing (the latter is for when a girl gets snuffed outside of a licensed snuff property, such as my club and you don’t want to get charged with murder – they usually just take you at your word that there was consent involved). They also handle the licensing for various types of clubs, butcher shops, auction houses, stores and so on. All that said; every girl still calls it the slaughterhouse, because for us, the most important aspect of their operations is turning women into meat.

As I park in the visitor’s lot nearest the Administrative Center of the facility, I instinctively look towards the plant’s ‘meat entrance’ – it’s something you just can’t help doing, like staring at a car accident as you drive by. I’m expecting the standard leave-taking of family and friends, or maybe a short line of girls all fresh from the bus, so I stop short when I instead see a girl all dressed for graduation, finishing up some kind of speech to subdued cheers, and then having pictures taken with her family as she holds her diploma just so for the camera.

My curiosity piqued, I drift towards the odd tableau even as it starts to break up. I wait nearby as the girl removes her cap and gown, handing them over to her parents along with the diploma. She accepts some final, tight hugs, and then waves everyone off to their cars with a wistful smile plastered to her face.

I approach the girl just as her family leaves sight, and just barely catch her as the smile crumples and she collapses in great, heaving sobs. I put my arms around the girl, rocking and shushing her like a baby on reflex, and she curls her little body into my embrace – seriously, she’s a tiny little thing, maybe ninety pounds soaking wet, and if it weren’t for her very full, attention grabbing bosom, I would have been worried that the age laws had changed on me.

Over a good five-minute period, I comfort the girl, all the while wondering what it is with me ending up in this type of role so often these past few days. Maybe it’s just the universe getting the most out of my mothering skills while it still can. Maybe I’m just a drama magnet, who knows? Regardless, I manage to get the girl to turn off the waterworks and help her to stand back up. Getting a good look at her, I’m struck by the almost clichéd nerdiness of her, other than those prize winning tits, that is. Skinny body, braces, coke bottle glasses, plain-Jane brown hair braided into pigtails with eyes to match…even her private school uniform looks extra-studious somehow. Given the circumstances, I can’t help speculating on the likelihood that this girl is going to grade low enough for the grinders, and shudder at the thought. Who knows, though – those tits might just raise her grade enough to earn a slit throat instead. Wonderful the things we women can look forward to these days.

I know most people nowadays would chose this moment to leave, if they hadn’t done so the moment the girl broke down, but two of my biggest flaws are my curiosity and my extra-strong instinct to do what I can to protect the young, so instead, I take her by the shoulders and try to sound reassuring as I introduce myself and ask her name.

She wipes at some leftover tears and gives me a timid smile. “My name is Bethany Kidder, Ma’am.” I take a step back in surprise – I’ve heard of this kid (well, okay, legally an adult, but to me they’re kids until they get past their early twenties). When I was in the PTA, she had been mentioned in discussions regarding the gap between public and private school quality, because this girl was stunningly intelligent. It has been a few years since, but even then she was working through college courses in the summers, and I don’t mean easy liberal arts classes – by now she should be close to getting her Associates, despite the evidence I just saw that she hasn’t been skipping grades.

I gather myself back together and give the little genius a big grin. “Wow, the Bethany Kidder – I’ve heard some great things about you! It’s a pleasure to have a face to go with the name finally, though the circumstances could certainly be better. I take it you were supposed to be graduating on Friday?”

Bethany looks embarrassed at first, then crestfallen as I mention graduation. “I was supposed to be Valedictorian, actually – that was my speech that I was giving to my family. Ironically, that’s why I’m here, ready to have this brain I was so proud of turned into pet food.”

I wince at that last – her grading must be worse than I thought. I look around for a place to sit, and settle for the curb, taking the girl with me. “I don’t get it. Are you saying that your school is processing its top students now? That doesn’t make any sense!”

Bethany laughs bitterly. “If only! It would be easier to take if it was something so impersonal. No, this is all due to stupid, banal jealousy and greed.” She pauses a moment to consider me carefully, and those otherwise unremarkable eyes become incredibly intense – it feels like she is dissecting me with vision alone. “There’s a girl named Stella Harrington, whose father has donated huge sums of money to the school. She’s head cheerleader, student body president, editor in chief of the school newspaper – you name it, she’s done it, but she couldn’t beat me out for Valedictorian. I wasn’t even trying to get it, I would have handed it to her if I could, since I hate public speaking, but apparently her father couldn’t take the insult of a scholarship girl beating out his precious little princess…”

Bethany doesn’t finish her tale, but she doesn’t need to. I’m familiar with the Harringtons, their power and money, and above all their reputation for ruthlessness. I can well imagine the string pulling and favor exchanging that probably happened behind closed doors, all leading to whatever the official mechanism is that has wasted this girl’s huge potential.

The girl sighs, and I see a tear of frustration slide down her cheek. “To think, I turned down a prom date – an actual date! – so that I could study, and now it turns out it was all for nothing, I’m going to die and I’ve never even kissed a boy! What was the point of it all? What is the point for any girl now?”

We sit in silence for a moment as I think of what will be happening to her as I go about my business of the day, unpleasant though that is, and some ideas begin to form. “Bethany, are you pre-registered for a specific time of processing?”

She shifts uncomfortably at the mention of her demise. “No, no ma’am. This was all very short notice, as you can imagine, although I don’t actually have to report in until tomorrow morning, technically. My research indicated that mid-day is the best time to avoid the rushes, so that’s why I came now.”

I smile. “That’s perfect. Why don’t you just walk with me while I make some phone calls.”

She looks at me quizzically, but with trust as well, as she follows me towards the Administrative Center. “Ma’am?”

I don’t want to get her hopes up, and I respect her too much to lie anyway, so I go for as much of the truth as I know at this point. “Don’t misunderstand, Bethany – I can’t save you, at least not from dying. However, I might be able to save you from the grinders, and accomplish some other things as well…”

My first call is to Bob, the wonderfully gentle butcher of women, inquiring as to how much it costs to buy the processing rights of a pet food girl. The price is low, all things considered, and he mentions that there is considerable wiggle room on the time limits on such contracts. Perfect, that green lights my next call.

Paul Allison answers on the millionth ring or so, sounding tired and depressed. Obviously the deaths of his beloved wife and daughter are weighing on him – again, perfect. He’s a businessman by preference, so I keep things businesslike. “Paul, I know you have to be feeling a bit down about now, so I have a proposition that should put a little spice in your night and keep things at bay until your little ones get back home.”

As I thought, he goes straight into business mode, serious and energized. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“Well, I have here the smartest little virgin meat girl, and she’s available at a bargain basement price. Now, she doesn’t have much meat on her bones, but if you needed that you’d just go down to Bob’s for some steaks. What she does have is a tight little cunt and some really great tits, and I’m sure a lot of gratitude for giving her a chance to use them before she dies, if you know what I mean.”

Paul sounds reluctant as he responds. “Well, that’s all well and good, but I really don’t want to deal with yet another girl dying in my home, especially with the extra permit costs…”

I don’t let him finish. “Well, that’s no problem, since I can get you into my club, and then you can have fun playing games with her. Hell, Bob says that you might have quite a bit of leeway on the kill-by date, so if she survives the night you can use her brilliant mind to help you out around the office, and get some under the desk action while you’re at it.”

“Hmmm, well, maybe…”

He’s almost sold, now for the clincher. “Oh, and did I mention that she’s the perfect bait for bagging one of the Harrington girls?” That does it – I know from conversations with Sheryl during my PTA days that the Harringtons have interfered with Paul’s deals before, so I knew I had him before I even called.

Paul agrees to meet us in the Administrative Center’s lobby in twenty minutes. I hang up, and then hand the phone to Bethany. “Sweety, I’m sure you heard all of that, and you’ve probably figured out what I’m doing, so I just need you to call one of your friends that knows this Stella girl, and have her pass it on that you’re going to be snuffing it at a club called The Spider’s Web tonight…”

Bethany’s braces flash in the sun as she grins wickedly. “The trollop won’t be able to resist, and she’ll think her name makes her safe from harm. Brilliant! She’s mistaken about her safety, right?”

It’s my turn for the wicked grin. “Sweety, no girl is truly safe there, and haughty, spoiled ones are the least safe of them all – not to mention that my husband has some friends that are very, very good at talking a girl into getting herself killed.”

While Bethany calls up some of her friends, I sigh as I consider the duplicity in what I’ve just arranged. Not the bit with the Stella girl, but the underlying reason for wanting to bring Paul and his new meat-girl to the club tonight – which is so that John and I can get entrance. You see, our club requires that all members bring a girl in with their group that is eligible for games in order to get in, and as Property of the State, I don’t qualify. If I hadn’t found Bethany here, I would have probably been forced to take Sharon (Sarah isn’t in the system, so she’s a no-go, not that I’d take her anywhere near the place anyway), and in Sharon’s current state…well, it wouldn’t have been pretty, especially if we learn any bad news about the twins.

I have some other thoughts on how to work all of this into my plans for myself and my daughters, but I put away my various schemes and qualms as Bethany hands me my phone and gives me a thumbs up, and we enter the Administrative Center hand in hand…

[center]Part Twelve – Fateful Pairings[/center]

As John and I wait for Paul and his new meat-girl outside The Spider Web, I take a moment to consider the strange events of the day so far, and how they might develop as the night goes on.

Sharon’s twins have yet to be heard from, a scary situation given that despite their fun-loving natures, they are two very responsible young women. My best friend, in the meantime, almost tossed John through a wall when we told her she couldn’t come to the club with us. Thankfully our years at the club have made John and I very good at subduing women, and we were able to tie her up in a chair. After that it didn’t take much to get her to down a retarded amount of hard liquor until she passed out, allowing Sarah to watch the kids without having to worry about a desperately worried mother doing something stupid.

Of course, all of that excitement occurred long after Paul met me at the Administrative Center. When he showed up, he was taken immediately by Bethany’s tits, as expected, and not much else – until I mentioned her name. Just as I thought, Paul is one of those guys that actually listens to what his wife is saying, or did, and so he quickly recognized our little genius, and her potential value to him. From that point on, he was quite the gentleman with her, and insisted on treating her as his date for the rest of the day, despite the fact that she’s really his slave, and meat on the hoof to boot.

We split off from each other for a while – Paul took Bethany to buy her Processing Rights, whilst I had the joy of setting the date and time of my execution. Since Bob had entered my pre-grading into the system, the process was no more difficult than setting a dental appointment. I was able to fit into the first slot on the last day allowed by my notice; at the butt-crack of dawn on Friday, while everyone else will be getting ready for work, school or whatever, I’ll be ending my time as a living, breathing woman, and starting my new one as dinner. Joy. I am thankful that a Friday appointment was open, because I need as much time as possible to get things into place if I want my plans to work

I see Paul and Bethany walking towards us, arm in arm and looking happy as can be, and I can’t help but remember my time with them after we left the Center. Paul took us out for lunch and a few drinks to start, and we had some wonderful conversations once Bethany got over her nervousness. Turns out she’s not just smart, but also extremely friendly, in a sardonic, cynical manner that I just adore. At the same time, there’s a sweet vulnerability to her that really endears her to me, like with Sarah, and it seems to have really gotten to Paul as well – the man was so taken with her by the end of lunch that he couldn’t wait to get her home!

Of course, the poor little virgin was pretty darn nervous at the prospect, even though it was obvious that she was hot for her new owner, and she quietly whispered to me that she hoped that I would be there to help her with her first time, but I had to get home and deal with Sharon and the kids, so I just reassured her that I knew first hand of Paul’s skill and gentleness with deflowering girls. Of course, I neglected to mention any specifics, like that it was with his daughter, or that she snuffed it during the course of their encounter. Oh well, if full disclosure is too much to ask of our government then it’s too much to ask of me.

Speaking of the odd couple, they’ve finally reached us, and after a few words of reminder on our plans, we step up to the door, where a bouncer is waiting to scan us into the club’s database. First John presents his member’s card, and our group is entered under his name. Then Paul slides his ID/State Bank card through the reader, and is advised that he can either pay the cover charge, or get a probationary membership – he surprises me by splurging on the latter.

Finally Bethany and I present our Processing IDs to be scanned, and I’m given a large, bright red sign on a chain to put around my neck, telling people that I’m off limits, while Bethany just gets a ‘meat-girl’ hand stamp, which let’s everyone know that she is owned and has no consensual rights. The whole process takes less than a minute, and we don’t have to explain a thing. Right behind us a small gaggle of sorority type chicks gets in with the same ease, just with the standard ‘free girl’ hand stamp. Convenient how effortlessly a woman can enter into a death trap, isn’t it?

Through the doors we find the ‘coat room’, which for many patrons is more of a clothes room – if you’re going to get naked anyway, it’s a lot easier to find your clothes in here than scattered around the club. Bethany and I immediately drop our long coats, leaving the both of us clad only in slave collars and fuck-me pumps. Mine are blue, hers a shocking shade of red that matches her lipstick. As I get my first look at her nude form, I have to admit that the contrast between her slender body and those impossible tits is amazingly eye-catching, and the definition that those very high heels adds to her super slender legs and tiny ass certainly doesn’t hurt either.

The boys take a bit longer to disrobe, as my husband goes for his standard nudity and Paul follows his example. Well, nude that is except for the neck chain with a clip for their ID cards, which Bethany and I are wearing as well, a club requirement - theirs for any drinks, food or slaves they might wish to purchase, ours because it doesn’t do to have a corpse lying around too long waiting to be identified. This aspect of the club’s operations is something that I’m thinking of taking advantage of, later. While the guys strip off, I pull Bethany aside for some girl talk. “So, how did it go, you know, with the two of you…”

The girl positively gushes, well, compared to her normally droll and/or subdued manner anyway. “Which time? Let’s see, there was the slow, candlelit bedroom gentle time to break me in, the hard and fast on the kitchen floor session, the from behind in the shower bit, and then of course we did it in the car in the parking garage – that’s why we were late, by the way.”

I grin. “So I take it the sex wasn’t too horrible for you?” The sarcasm is dripping from my voice.

She looks around and leans in to whisper conspiratorially. “Meg, if I die tonight, it’s as a woman in love. At this point, seeing Stella bite it is just icing on the cake.”

Wow! I’d hoped things would work out between the two, but this is even better than I had hoped – I just hope that Paul isn’t quite as attached to Bethany if she doesn’t make it out of here alive, otherwise I’m going to feel mighty guilty, I think.

Before I can think of a response, our respective Masters attach leashes to our collars and tug us into the lobby. As they do, we all assume our assigned roles for our little trap. Paul is going to play the dominant, powerful bastard, with Bethany doing the scared little girl bit. Meanwhile, I get to play the bitchy, resentful wife to John’s exasperated, sick of it husband – should be fun!

At the lobby there are three directions one can go – straight ahead into the dance club/bar/restaurant area, to the right for the standard sex club area and private rooms, and of course to the left are the stairs leading down to the actual snuff club area – I know, it’s clichéd, but it works, so who am I to complain?

We split up to find our quarry, with Paul and Bethany searching the ground floor while John and I hit the basement. All of us are more than familiar with what Stella Harrington looks like – she has pictures all over the place from cheering, modeling, pageants, awards ceremonies, and of course exhibitionistic self-portraits, so to speak, plastered where anyone can find them. Stupid bitch is just asking to be victimized by one type of predator or another.

As John and I enter the snuff and gaming area, we don’t bother to get too deep into our roles yet, since people know us down here and we aren’t expecting Stella to be down here yet – and if she is, well, odds are she’s in over her head and we won’t have to do anything other than watch her get snuffed. Besides, we’re mostly down here to find out about the twins anyway.

The main gaming and snuff-play area is pretty wide open, other than the various equipment of course, and has a pretty high ceiling to accommodate things like guillotines and gallows, so we are able to see who’s there pretty well from the stairs. Not many people come down here this early, so it’s easy to see that the twins aren’t in this room.

Because of my off limits tag, a bouncer tries to stop me at the bottom of the stairs, but John flashes his members card from where it hangs around his neck, to reassure him that we won’t be getting the club in trouble with any convenient ‘accidents’. While we have the guy’s attention, John asks him about Sharon’s girls.

The bouncer rubs his chin for a moment. “Twins, eh? Where they maybe tallish, big titted and bleach blond?” We nod. “Yeah, I remember them. Came in with some dumbass that couldn’t hold his liquor. Follow me, I’ll take you to ‘em.”

I sigh in relief at the implication that they are still alive, while wondering why they would still be here. I get my answer soon enough, and my heart sinks as we approach ‘the wall of fame’, where the heads of particularly beautiful or otherwise noteworthy girls are displayed. Sure enough, in a pair of niches right next to each other, are the heads of our lost girls, final expressions expertly preserved for posterity.

The bouncer ignores my look of shock and dismay (after all, I’m just a slave and State Meat as well) and points to one of the heads, its face projecting terror and confusion. “That one, she went first, let some guy talk her into a little breath play – you know the deal, dude said just ‘til he finished. Guess she didn’t know how fast a strangle chord can kill a girl. Man, did that body of hers look great squirming and twitching while it happened!”

John pretends he doesn’t see how upset I am, and keeps calm and cool as usual. “I’ll be sure to get the recording of that.” He probably will, too – can’t say I blame him. “What about the other one?”

The bouncer turns to the other head, whose expression is one of pure ecstasy and joy, and brushes a stray strand of hair back into place. “This one was really special. Decided she didn’t want to go on without her sister, see? So, she hops right into a guillotine, one of them ones set for endurance games, tells everyone to take a shot at giving her, what’d she say, oh yeah, ‘a cum to die for’, and holds the rope with her teeth. I bet most of the late crowd took that bitch for a ride, never saw a girl hold out through so many cums before in my time here. Hell, I even tried her out on my break. Took one of those specially trained dyke slaves to get her to really blow her top, heh.”

John distracts the bouncer by asking about getting the recordings, giving me an opportunity to kiss the twins goodbye. I keep getting pictures in my head of these girls growing up, and I just can’t quite reconcile them with the descriptions I just heard of their demises. I mean, it’s not like it was with my old best friends in high school – they were my peers, not girls that I still think of as children.

I’m still trying to figure out what I’m going to tell Sharon, when John finishes arranging to have the twins’ recordings sent to his member’s account online. He looks at me and the pair of heads with sympathy, and then turns and tugs me by my leash back towards the stairs, and hopefully a more enjoyable part of the evening…

[center]Part Thirteen – Luring Prey[/center]

Just as we reach the top of the stairs, the door to the dance club bursts open and the giggling sorority type girls tumble out, heading for us and daring each other to go down the stairs and stay there for X amount of time. John looks at me, and groans – normally we’d have joined them and made sure their night was memorable…for us that is. My poor baby is just twitching to get at these girls, but instead he just pulls me out of the way as the girls stumble past us. And I do mean stumble – the dumb bitches are already trashed. Wow, I sincerely hope that we can get Stella down here soon, because it won’t take long for these girls to start getting into trouble, and I want to be there to see it.

John sighs and gives me a puppy dog look, and then grins before taking me through the doors and into the dance club. It’s time to take on our roles. It’s actually quite easy – both of us hate loud, crowded environments like this, so we just use that irritation to drive our performances.

I start to scan the crowd for Stella or our friends, but don’t get too far before I’m practically being dragged towards the bar by my leash. I look at my husband and see the focus and impatience in his gaze, and I know that he’s found our prey. I start putting on a little show then, pulling back weakly on the leash and whining bitchily but indecipherably as we reach the bar. Sure enough, right there is Stella Harrington, standing over a crouched, sobbing Bethany, tormenting and taunting the girl as Paul stands by with trying to look like he’s enjoying his slave’s humiliation. I can read the pair well enough by now for the fakery of their performances to shine through, but Stella seems to have been completely taken in by them. Good, time to start the games.

As previously agreed, I start things off by reacting naturally, which is to say I try to launch myself at Stella, growling and yelling for her to leave Bethany alone. I take great satisfaction in the startled, frightened look in her eyes as I get to her, but only for a moment as John yanks very hard on my leash, taking me off my feet. We then start up a heated, and I’m sorry to say hammy, argument. He goes into how I take better care of the other slave girls than him, that he’s sick of my bitching and complaining, I come back with some random bitching and complaining, mostly shit that I remember from daytime soaps and trashy talk shows.

After giving the wide eyed, grinning Stella a show for a few minutes, John finishes it up by asking the bar-tender for a ball-gag, which then of course winds up in my mouth. Another request follows for some restraints, and the next thing I know, my hands are cuffed together behind my back and I’m kneeling on the floor next to Bethany. My newest friend leans up against me to hide her wink and I return it before turning my attention to the others.

I have to admit, Stella’s a pretty damned hot piece of ass, despite the obvious looks of contempt and superiority that she gives pretty much every girl she sees – or maybe that just adds to the attraction for me, since there’s nothing quite as sexy as seeing a haughty, spoiled little bitch walking blindly to her own death. She’s runway model tall, but not the typical model thin. Actually, she has some great curves, with a surprisingly bouncy pair of D-cups and a near-ghetto booty that contrast nicely with her narrow waist, all contained in a tiny, expensive looking black and red corset. Add in some nice, meaty legs that go for miles, encased in red stockings and ending in matching, incredibly tall ankle boots, her long, perfectly coiffed chocolate brown hair, pulled into a ponytail, and big, baby blue eyes, and I’d almost feel threatened, if I didn’t know what she was in store for tonight.

Anyway, the little bitch is obviously angling to take advantage of the rift she sees between us – she’s putting those great looks of hers to full use as she poses and flirts with John outrageously. My husband takes more time ‘giving in’ than he really needs to – the bitch seems to really need a good dicking tonight, or maybe she just gets off on stealing men away from their wives, but either way she’s laying it on really thick by the time he draws her in to lean against him for a good, hot make out session. And I do mean hot – Stella’s not the only one breathing hard by the time he breaks off and suggests finding a room.

The girl is looking up at him with eyes half lidded with passion – she looks ready to pop already, a dangerous state to be in around here, as she’s no doubt soon to find out. She nods her acceptance to the proposal, and then giggles as my leash is handed to her. She tugs on it hard to make me follow as she follows John into the lobby and onward to the private rooms. There’s a bouncer waiting who scans my husband’s membership card before showing us to an available room. As we are about to enter, John makes sure that the bouncer hears as he turns to talk to Stella. “Now, two girls are entering this room, but only one is coming out alive. Are you okay with that?”

Just as we thought, the girl has no clue what the big red tag hanging from my neck means, or just hasn’t noticed it. Either way, the bouncer grins as Stella nods in ascent and rubs up against my husband, obviously turned on by the thought of watching me get snuffed – stupid cunt, I’m really going to enjoy this. “Really? Wow, that is sooo hot! I can’t wait to see this…how’re you gonna do it?”

John just smiles and gestures the girl to enter, knowing better than to say anything further in front of a witness now that she has unknowingly consented to be snuffed. She leans into him as she passes, pressing those big jugs of hers against his chest, and then gives my leash an extra hard tug as she leads me into the room. I’m pulled over to the big, bondage-ready bed in the middle of the room where she forces me to bend over, face pressed to the mattress, ass sticking out invitingly, and then I hear the door close behind us.

Stella is too busy reddening my ass with her palm to hear the door’s lock clicking, or she thinks that it’s for my ‘benefit’, either way she just merrily goes on with my spanking, giggling as I squirm around and occasionally get a squeal past my gag. I’m actually enjoying myself, but I’m giving the impression that the opposite is true. I may not like pain in general, but for me the humiliation of a spanking, especially one given by a little bitch like Stella, really just gets my juices running. Eventually the ass beating stops as I see John grab the girl, turning her around and grabbing her ass as he draws her into another nice round of tonsil hockey.

John slowly backs Stella up to the bed, never interrupting their make-out session, even as he lowers her onto her back, pressing her down as he easily enters her bare, neatly trimmed cunt. The teen moans into his mouth and starts to hump back at him, her young face filled with pure lust, the big globes on her chest moving hypnotically with my husband’s hard, confident thrusts. Despite her obviously positive reaction to the fucking, I can tell that he’s focused entirely on his own pleasure at the moment, getting himself off real quick to take the edge off.

As I thought, John cums before she can, groaning as he fills her with his seed while she groans in need, still just short of her own climax. She gives him a disappointed pout, but then grins wickedly as he moves her so that her cunt is in my face and growls for me to eat her cream pie. God, I love it when he does that!

I’m a pretty decent muff-diver, all things considered, and I’m not too bad at keeping a girl right at the edge, and that’s what I do now, enjoying the teen’s squirming, whimpering and moaning, especially when those sounds become muffled by the presence my husband’s cock in her mouth. His voice is commanding yet soothing as he orders her around with ease. “Get me hard baby, that’s right, use your little tongue. Get me nice and hard so I can make her watch us. We’re gonna look her right in the eye while I do you, how’s that sound?”

She takes his cock out long enough to respond in a husky voice. “Oh yeah, that sounds hot. I want to see her face when she sees how much better I am.” I don’t know what turns me on more, the humiliating word play, or the fact that she didn’t catch the way John worded his last question – he usually likes to give out little clues like that when he’s tricking a little snuff-bunny like this, just to see if she can figure things out before the end. He gets off on it, but I think he’s also assuaging any lingering guilt for killing the poor things – after all, he did give them a chance, right?

John must be plenty hard by now, because Stella is moving around now, assuming a position identical to mine, facing me, while my husband gets behind her, slowly entering her while giving me a wink and a grin that the teen can’t see. There’s something else that she can’t see, and that’s the classic barber’s straight razor in his left hand. The right one is lightly pulling on her hair – not enough to hurt, but enough to be dominant in a sexy way, and to keep her head up, staring straight at me with her neck conveniently exposed.

John gets that commanding, soothing tone going again as he starts to really pound her, pulling back a bit harder now that he has the excuse. “Look at the bitch. Look at the slut and show her how good it is. Tell her when I make you cum, baby.”

Stella grins at me, and then starts to swear and beg for it harder and faster, showing her rising lust to me, reveling in the humiliation she sees in my eyes. Fuck this is hot; I really wish my role would let me finger myself before the climax of this plan. And speaking of climaxes…

The teen in front of me is obviously getting close to hers, and from the look of things, we’ve teased and delayed her into one of the biggest of her short life. She’s incoherent now, mewling out bits of words without making any sense and clawing at the plastic covered mattress as John kicks things up a notch. Stella starts to shudder, her cries rising in volume and pitch, until she screams out, “I’m cumminggggg!”

That’s the last thing she ever says, well, other than a wet sounding “Gurk!” as the razor is drawn across her throat. The slice is deep enough to sever her windpipe and jugular, but not so deep as to hit her carotid – this is no fast bleed out here. Stella’s lovely body jerks and heaves spectacularly as she desperately claws at her throat, trying to stem the flow of blood that is even now covering her spectacular breasts. She’s still cumming, the shudders from her terminal orgasm blending seamlessly into her twitchy struggles for life, her eyes filled with a heady mixture of pleasure, pain, terror and confusion.

The teen is still looking straight at me as I finally start to pleasure myself, rubbing my wet sex against the edge of the bed as her blood filled mouth forms the question ‘why’; a wheezing, wet gurgling is the best sound she can manage though. She’s breathing in a lot of blood, but there’s a considerable amount of it pooling on the bed as well, so it’s a good question which is going to kill her first. Either way, she’s starting to stare around listlessly, and her actions are now more or less random and weak as John starts to violently pound her dying body, jerking her back and forth like a marionette - they’re both getting close now, and so am I as he leans over enough to hiss in her ear. “This is for Bethany, you spoiled little cunt!”

Her eyes widen in shocked realization for a moment, but soon Stella’s baby blues are half lidded, and she’s barely moving – I think she’s lost consciousness by now. I’m right on the edge, and then I tip over it and into a massive climax as the girl’s body goes into violent convulsions, her death throes like an exaggeration of what I feel my own body doing. I hear myself cry out in ecstasy nearly in concert with my husband’s muted roar as he presses himself hard against that lush ass, releasing himself inside the girl’s body even as it shivers a final time and becomes nothing more than meat for the kitchens.

John stumbles over to me, releases my cuffed hands, and then we fall to the floor together, holding each other and kissing tenderly as we come down from a great sexual high. I have to say, that was one of the most delicious snuffs I’ve been a part of in this club, and one of the best cums, in part because I had to deny my own pleasure for so long I think.

Suddenly John pulls away from me and heads for the bathroom, laughing. He comes back with a towel and notices my quizzical look. He starts to wipe off his groin and legs as he continues to chuckle. “The bitch pissed on me, but not when you think. It wasn’t when she died, wasn’t when the blade went in. Nope, she lost it when she started to cum – damn near made me drop the razor and foul the whole thing up, it surprised me so much. Shit, now I’ll spend my whole life wondering if she always did that, or if I was just that good!”

We share a good laugh at that, twisted as that may sound, and then we drag Stella’s body into the bathroom on the handy-dandy plastic bed cover. Now, the bathrooms for these private rooms are equipped with the standard shower, shitter and sink, but they also come equipped with a little area for draining a girl either before or after death. Using the strap and pulley above the drain, we hang the meat up by its ankles, and then I retrieve a saw from the same set of drawers that the razor came from – I’m still not sure how John got into there without the bitch noticing.

John looks at me strangely as I start to cut through the rest of Stella’s neck. I don’t even pause as I take control for the moment. “John, be a dear and go get Paul and Bethany, and try to make sure nobody sees her enter the room.” Stella’s head falls to the floor with a thunk, and I bite my lip as I start in on one of her wrists. “Let’s just hope that she’s still alive…”

[center] Part Fourteen – Arousing Irritants[/center]

By the time the room’s door opens again, I’ve finished my work with Stella’s body and am pacing the room nervously. I know that my request that Bethany not be seen means potential delays, but between my concerns for the poor innocent’s safety and my need for her to play a role in this (admittedly optional) portion of my plans, I’m nearly overwhelmed with relief as she steps past the threshold. I rush up to my young friend and the poor, shocked looking girl is in need of a quick shower by the time I get done hugging her – oops, I seem to have forgotten to rinse Stella’s blood off of me in my distraction.

Before anyone can get a word in, I drag Bethany into the bathroom and start to wash her off, ignoring the way she keeps staring at her nemesis’s blankly staring head, which I left in the sink. Both John and Paul try to ask me what’s going on, but I just shush them and finish with Bethany. As soon as I have the girl dried off, I pull her ID off of her and replace it with the one I purloined from Stella’s carcass. Bethany’s ID I place under the headless, handless body. “There. You are now officially dead. For the rest of the night, your name is Stella Harrington. As long as you manage to avoid getting snuffed tonight, I’ll be taking that ID and you’ll be invisible to the system. Paul, that means that you will be able to keep her for as long as you like, as long as you keep her hidden. Sorry if that still kills your plans for college, sweety, but at least it gives you a chance to live a while longer than you would have.” I turn to John. “Honey, there should be opaque breath play bags in one of those drawers – can you get one for me and put these-“ I wave my hand at Stella’s head and hands. “-inside. We’ll drop it off with our stuff before we head downstairs.”

Bethany pales visibly. “Y-you mean we- we still have to go down where they…”

I hug the scared girl to me, feeling damned guilty. “I’m sorry sweety, but we were only able to use John membership to do all of this because you were with us…otherwise he wouldn’t have been allowed into any snuff areas, at least, not without buying an auction or club slave that we honestly can’t afford. The downside of that is that you need to play at least one game downstairs, or become property of the club, as a slave or meat. I don’t know about you, but I think the first option is the better one.” She’s starting to shake, the poor thing. I pull back to look her in the eye. “Look, there’s a bunch of drunken coeds down there. I’m pretty sure we can get you into a game with at least one of them that can allow you to use that wonderful brain of yours to your advantage. But that won’t work unless you can calm down and think rationally, okay?”

Bethany closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then nods, looking much better already. Satisfied for the moment, I back off from her, right into my husband. I see Bethany’s eyes widen in surprise as John pulls my hands behind my back and reapplies my cuffs, but I just grin at her and wink – I’ve trusted my husband with my life on numerous occasions, so right now I’m only breathing hard in anticipation of what he’s going to do next.

What happens next is that I’m bent over the commode as he scolds me, the disappointment in his voice partly serious, partly playful. “Am I hearing this right, slave? You didn’t tell this innocent girl the risks that she was taking in coming here? Or more importantly, you didn’t tell her owner?” I grunt a bit as I feel a tube being shoved up my ass. Uh oh, this should be interesting! “You’ve been a bad slave, making our guests uncomfortable. Don’t you think you deserve to be uncomfortable as well?”

I reluctantly nod my head, knowing what’s in store for me, but at the same time knowing that I deserve this, and more. Seconds later, I feel water entering my colon and bowels. At this early point in an enema being administered, I wouldn’t be having any problems, but this one has something added to it that is making me groan and squirm around from an itchy burning deep inside me. John doesn’t fill me up too far before he pulls the tube and replaces it with a moderately large butt plug. Really, it’s not enough to give me any major cramping or anything, but then again, this is probably staying in for the rest of the night, so we’ll see how bad things get before the end.

It’s a good ten minutes after my enema went in that we’re finally entering the ‘coat room’ to drop off the bag with Stella’s identifying bits – nearly the whole way the staff has been encouraged to harass me by John, which serves the double purpose of humiliating me as well as to draw attention away from Bethany’s presence in the private rooms area.

As I place the bag next to John’s clothes, I raise an eyebrow at Paul, who is ordering his slave girl to leave her glasses in her coat pocket. Now, I don’t know just what her prescription might be, but I’m pretty damn sure that Bethany can’t see shit without those thick ass lenses. That thought seems to trouble the girl as well, but she obediently follows Paul’s orders anyway.

John must have seen my worry, because he makes sure to explain while we head back towards the stairs. “Don’t worry about the girl, honey. I suggested this to Paul while that one bouncer was pinching your nipples. See, this way, she can’t really see what’s happening to the other girls, and hopefully won’t get as nervous.” He grins with amusement. “Well, I actually thought an isolation hood would be best, but poor Paul seems to be a little too taken with the girl, and doesn’t want her to think that he’s hiding her face.”

I snort in amusement and shove at my husband gently. “Yeah, like that doesn’t sound like someone else with a new slave girl at this very club, say, fourteen years ago?”

I’m rewarded for my cheek with a smack to one of my lower ones, followed by a quick but gentle hug and kiss from my man. “Yeah, well, let’s hope things turn out as well for them as it did for us.”

As we reach the bottom of the stairs, I once again have to concede that my husband is a genius, because things down here are in full swing now. The group of Sorority types is still relatively intact, seven or eight of them clustering together in a small herd by the Wall of Fame, but they are surrounded by interested guys, and two of their number have been separated from the rest.

That pair, a beach bunny blonde (really, she’s even in a tiny red bikini of all things!) and a tall, athletic looking red-head (in a similarly tiny black lace thong and bra set – I mean, really, these damn day trippers have no clue how much they stick out looking like that, or how lethal drawing attention can be), are reluctantly allowing themselves to be drawn over to the drowning pools by a couple of handsome young men. I’m kinda curious as to what games the boys have planned for them, but taking Bethany anywhere near there is not a good idea – her chest is so thin I highly doubt she has much lung capacity.

At any rate, John and Paul are pretty focused on the preening bitches of the herd, who don’t seem to understand yet that the guys fawning attention on them are looking forward to watching their deaths. God, these types of bitches bug the shit out of me, but I have to admit it’s hot as hell when their kind go down, the more spectacularly the better.

Most of the guys are younger members, and as they see my husband and I they part before us in respect – after all, we’re the ones who taught them most of their best tricks. A moment later, and John is looking the college girls over critically, while the dumb cunts obliviously continue to flirt with the younger guys around them, well, all but one.

That girl, a rather timid, smart looking pixie of a blonde, seems to have caught the predatory look in my husband’s eyes. She pales, gulps, and then seems to come to a difficult decision. Squaring her shoulders, she approaches us, leaning in close so that her companions can’t hear her speak. “Sir, I get the feeling that we’re nothing but meat to you guys.” John gives the girl a friendly smile and nods slightly. “Crap! Am I to take it that we’ve walked into a death trap then? Because I’m this close to getting my degree and getting the hell away from these idiots, and I’d rather they didn’t become the death of me tonight!”

John sends me a significant, questioning look, and I shrug in response – the enema is starting to give me some strange kinds of cramps, and I’m not in the mood for mercy or vindictiveness, so it’s all up to him.

John gently reaches for the girl, taking her by the upper arm and handing her off to Paul. “Young lady, you seem like your head is screwed on a bit tighter than the others. I’ll tell you what; my friend here will take and collar you, so nobody else bothers you, and I’ll figure out what to do with you later, okay?” Heh, he sounds so reasonable, and the girl is looking towards the splashing noises coming from the pools – I don’t think she even thinks about it before she agrees to give up her freedom. Hmmm, maybe not so smart after all…

I have no idea what John has planned for the girl, but again, I really don’t care at the moment – I just want to get Bethany’s required game done and over with so I can get this damned enema out of me. Okay, so I’m not sure if that’ll be the end of my punishment or not, but it would be our usual style of humiliation for me to have to let go of the thing in public, and following Bethany’s game would be the ideal time for that.

While Paul gently leads the new girl off to get collared and leashed, John has taken over Bethany’s, drawing the two of us in amongst the herd. Knowing my husband as I do, I’m pretty certain that he’s looking for the Alpha Girl - the popular, overconfident, overbearing one. The underwater thrashing in the pools has ceased, and a few of the girls seem to have noticed, judging by the nervous looks on their faces, but there’s one girl in particular who is totally oblivious, holding forth about her wonderful little self and the shortcomings of others, and I just know that we’ve found our mark…

[center][color=blue:s4acdjv3]Continued below…[/color:s4acdjv3][/center]

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[center]Part Fifteen – Delicious Prizes[/center]

She’s a curvy one, this Alpha Girl, not hefty, by any means, but still a thing of soft, lush yumminess. My god, I’m salivating just looking at her, all I can think of as she turns her cute, perfectly made-up face towards us is how great those ruby red lips would look wrapped around an apple as she’s served on a golden platter, to match her long golden curls. Wow, I think I’ve had too much girl to eat lately.

Her big green eyes would be cute, if it weren’t for the cold, demanding look in them as they pass over Bethany entirely and barely pause on me before lingering over Paul and my husband. Finally they settle on John with a disturbing, lizard-like speculation, as if she were sizing him up for lunch. Well, she almost has it right, just has the players mixed up a bit I guess. Oops, jokes about to be on her.

My husband of course has been sizing her up as well, and not just for her meat quality, I’d be willing to bet. I can tell when he has a read on her – it’s the moment that he gives her a dismissive grunt and turns toward Paul, who is now approaching with his new slave for the night. I have to smirk a little as I see that he’s talked the pixie chick out of her clothes as well as into a collar – he’s going to fit in here just fine, I think. I don’t think Alpha even notices her former companion, as she’s too busy being indignant over somebody actually ignoring her. Beautiful.

John gives Paul a significant look and then goes into his spiel. “Sorry buddy, I think you’re wrong. None of these girls is going to be able to beat the ones we already have.” He gestures vaguely in the direction of the Sorority Bimbos, or so it would seem, but either way he manages to give Alpha Girl’s tits a good bop with his hand, and pretends not to notice. The outrage growing on her face is just priceless. “Honestly, I think we should just skip the game and go ahead and give these ones their prizes.”

Paul rubs his chin, pretending to think things over. “Well gee, I don’t know. At least one of those others should be good enough for us, and those prizes are really too valuable to just go handing out…”

Alpha and a few other girls perk up at the talk of prizes, and especially when their value is brought to the table. How utterly predictable, but at any rate, that seems to have been the final motive for the Alpha to shove her way between my companions. She’s blatantly shoving her admittedly impressive tits out at the men as if they are weapons, which, now that I think about it, they usually probably are, at least with younger, less experienced men. Oops on her, these are guys that have been there, done that – but with waayyy better women.

The girl starts in on them, with an overdone ‘sultry’ southern voice of all things, as soon as she thinks her impressively, expensively pushed up puppies have drawn the men’s attentions. “Excuse me gentlemen, I couldn’t help but hear your conversation! Well, I don’t mean to impose, but I think that me and some of my friends would be much better choices than those scrawny little things and that worn out piece of meat!” Wow, she actually knows what my sign means, which tells me this probably isn’t her first time here. Wouldn’t surprise me to find out this isn’t the first group of ‘Sisters’ that she’s led into hell here either. That just makes things more delicious, so I ignore her slight against me, well, for the moment at least.

My husband doesn’t bother to hide his irritation. “And what makes you so sure about that, girl?” The Alpha steps back, obviously startled at his resistance to her not inconsiderable charms (well, the physical ones at least, her personality of course leaves much to be desired). “Did it occur to you that we’re looking for much more than just a good set of hooters and a nice smile? Of course not, and that’s my problem. See, we need a good, total package. Looks, endurance, smarts, and hell, even dancing – those are what we need. So far, all I see is some tits and ass, well, not even that really, with all of that silk in the way. I mean, really, are you here to play, or are you just a little girl playing at being an adult?”

Oh boy, that did it! The stuck up slut’s eyes flash as she lifts her chin and reaches back to unzip her excessively expensive little black dress. The thing is strapless, so it’s swiftly pooled around her feet, revealing that she’s wearing nothing else, other than some shear thigh-highs and some killer stilettos. She turns her head slightly to her Sisters. “Girls, lets show these guys what real women look like!”

Two girls that seem to be the Alpha’s flunkies, a surprisingly tall, elegant Asian girl that I’ll call Beta and an athletic, strong and aggressive looking Latina that’s probably the Enforcer of the group, quickly strip off and stand with their leader. The remainders of the college girls are already being pawed at and drawn off by the younger guys in the room, not that our mark seems to have noticed. I have to admit; the trinity of chicks standing there together is a pretty spectacular sight, almost making me as squirmy as the weird itching, crampy sensations coming from my bowels.

The three girls look quite appetizing in more than just a sexual manner, of course, as evidenced by the undisguised hunger in my husband’s eyes as he gives them a good look-over. “Well, that’s a start, but there are plenty of high school girls that have grown bodies like that. A real woman, one worthy of our rewards, has smarts, the will to survive anything, and the bravery to risk it all for the big prize. Do you still think you’re our girls?”

Beta and Enforcer look to their leader for guidance, but the Alpha doesn’t even look at them before nodding her acceptance of my husbands challenge. After giving me one more sneering glance, she takes his arm, while her flunkies do the same on either side of Paul. Bethany, Pixie and I are then tugged along as they make their way towards a stage with its curtains drawn closed.

Now, this early in the evening, it’s not unusual for many of the game stages to still be hidden. This is, of course, to give the advantage to predators looking to ensnare girls that are too silly, drunk or distracted to ask the nature of a game before agreeing to it. What’s happening right now is a textbook example of that, although as usual, my husband is using a game that’s a little fairer than one of the nastier members would choose.

As we reach the stage, a small group of younger members starts to gather around us, and John gestures to one of them, a boy named Jack, who is the son of one of our oldest friends – again, they’re kids to me until they get into their late twenties, so I can call him a boy if I want to. Jack has seen us in this type of routine before, so he doesn’t need instructions. He runs off for a moment, and swiftly returns with some padded cuffs.

John takes the restraints and clears his throat to get the attention of the Alpha and her friends, as well as Pixie and Bethany. “All right girls, this is a five player game, and since my wife here can’t play, we have just the right number of girls for it. Now, this is a game of smarts, courage and endurance, with no set number of losers. None of you may die, or all of you, or any number in between. Any of you that can’t handle that, walk away now. The rest of you need to turn around and put your hands behind your backs.”

Bethany knows she has no choice in the matter, and Pixie probably thinks the same, so those two present themselves for cuffing right away. The Alpha, seeing this, again does that proud lift of the chin and follows suit a moment later. Beta and Enforcer, on the other hand, look at each other and hesitate. They obviously aren’t too keen on dying for their fearless, idiot leader, they aren’t that kind of stupid, but there’s that other kind of stupid, the one that sees loss of social status as more likely than loss of life, and thus tends to place more importance on avoiding the former. Well, at any rate, that conflict in their little heads is enough to pretty much paralyze them, at least enough that they don’t run, don’t even resist as they are gently turned around and cuffed, decision made by default.

Now that all of the, um, contestants in our little game show are prepared, and, well, consenting enough, John signals again. Jack and a friend have been anticipating this, apparently, because they are already positioned to pull back the curtains, revealing a large stage dominated by a set of five computer controlled nooses and a large screen in front of them…

[center] Part Sixteen – Terminal Dances[/center]

Now that the true nature of our little game has been revealed in rather blatant fashion, Bethany looks like she wants to puke – poor girl looks convinced that she’s going to die. Pixie reacts even more dramatically, falling into Paul’s arms as she goes into a cute little half-faint. Come to think of it, there isn’t much about the little thing that isn’t cute, and while I’m sure that even her death-throes would fit that pattern, I’m hoping that she makes it through this game so we can perhaps find out in a more…intimate fashion. Okay, I’ll admit it, the thought of bedding the girl in even a totally vanilla fashion is making me randy.

Meanwhile, Alpha Girl has paled visibly, and some of that annoyingly unjustified self-assurance of hers has evaporated. Maybe that one has a few functioning brain cells after all! Beta is worse off, looking around her in a panic, but still holding onto enough self-control to not embarrass herself. That’s not the case for Enforcer, who takes one look at the nooses, mutters a ‘fuck this’ and immediately turns to make a run for it. The girl is strong, not to mention determined, I’ll give her that, but she’s also partially restrained and outnumbered by men who are expecting this, not to mention experienced at dealing with situations like this. She makes it further than I would have thought, but in the end she ends up carried by legs and hair up to the stage, where she becomes the first of the girls to go on display, trapped in position by a noose drawn tight around her neck.

It’s no surprise that all of this has made the other girls very nervous, but fortunately for them, not a one of them bolts or otherwise makes a fuss. This is of course very disappointing for the crowd, but given the whippings and other rough games being played elsewhere in the room, I’m sure they’ll get another opportunity soon enough.

Now, you’re probably wondering where all the ‘guests’ of these younger guys are, and the answer is - it varies. Some are following along on leashes, some are in the various punishment stations, available for fucking, whipping or…whatever by anyone that wishes to play with them. Some have already been snuffed, or sold to the restaurant upstairs, or are occupied with someone in the private rooms. At any rate, what this means is that being unclaimed, fresh meat in this environment is not a good thing, and I’ve always been grateful for my husband literally keeping me on a short leash around here.

John and Paul jump up onto the stage, dragging Bethany, Pixie and myself along with them. A moment later, after a gesture from my husband and some prodding from the audience, our last two contestants reluctantly join us. John smiles at each of them as trusty young Jack goes from one girl to the next, firmly guiding them to their proper positions and securing them by their necks, drawing them up by the nooses until they are forced to stand on tip-toes to avoid strangling.

The sight of all of that tempting flesh stretched out and displayed so fetchingly is really getting to me, along with this stupid enema, and I’m begging my husband with my eyes to be allowed release, one way or the other, but he just shakes his head and whispers that I’m going to be needed for the game. Intrigued enough to put up with my itches, so to speak, I turn my focus back on the girls, whose tits are being labeled in marker with numbers corresponding to their positions in the lineup. This is traditional, because most members could care less what name potential meat cares to go by.

The number order is important in this game, because it determines play order. Enforcer chick is first in line, of course, followed by Beta, Alpha, Pixie, and finally our Bethany is at the far end – not a random occurrence, as John hadn’t let her go until the others were in position.

Now that the girls are set, John lays out the rules for them – rules that more experienced women would have found out about well beforehand. “Okay ladies, here’s how this is going to go. There is a screen in front of you that will show five questions, one at a time. In number order, each of you will give an answer, and a wager in time of up to three minutes. If you get it right, the time is subtracted from your total hanging time. Get it wrong, the time is added.” The girls are all wide eyed with alarm now – god they’re making me wet, hell, as much as I like the girl, even poor Bethany’s fear is getting me hot. My husband just smirks at their reactions. “That’s right girls, at the end of the quiz period, you will be hoisted off the ground for a nice slow hang. Told you dancing skills were important! The base hanging time is twenty minutes, so think very hard about what you wager, and when.”

Alpha Girl smirks and looks towards her friends. “Don’t worry girls, we’re in way better shape than those scrawny things over there, just you watch, they won’t even make it to ten minutes.” Beta and Enforcer don’t seem too reassured by this, perhaps seeing the flaw in the Alpha’s logic – what good is it for your competitors to die, if you do as well?

I see that Bethany and Pixie are unnerved by the bitch’s little speech, as she likely intended, so I get John to release my leash, run over to them really quick and give them a whispered speech of my own. “Girls, look at me. You are going to make it, I promise you. All you have to do is treat this as just another finals test and make the max bet only on the answers you’re absolutely certain of, and zip otherwise. Honestly, you’re both pretty smart, especially compared to those bimbos, so if I’m right, you’ll come out of this with a sexy little five minute hang that’ll leave the guys drooling.” I start to walk away, and then turn back for a moment. “Remember, it’s just another test, no biggie.”

By the time I get back to my husband, Bethany has closed her eyes and looks calm as can be. Pixie…well, not so much, but still better than before my little pep talk, not that I care so much. Of course, that little exercise in running comes at a price, which is to say that the discomfort in my ass and bowels is at an all time high, but that doesn’t last long as my dear husband takes the opportunity for what he laughingly calls ‘a pre-game show’. Ha ha.

There’s a convenient set of drains built into the stage for cleaning up bodily fluids, so in a matter of moments, I’m squatting in front of all these guys, many of whom I watched grow up to one degree or another. I can feel my body and face go all red with embarrassment as my husband pulls the plug and I hear the nasty gushing and farting noises that always accompany an enema being released. It’s totally humiliating, which is of course the whole point, since John and I don’t get anything sexual out of gross stuff like this otherwise. The point in doing it now is no doubt to use the humiliation to get me primed and ready for the real show, and boy am I ever.

John sprays me down a little and calls for the game to begin, and I see the other reason for my little episode – to weaken the contestants a little, by making them hold themselves up that much longer. Brilliant, and sexy, as their straining, twitching calves and little squirms are hella sexy.

The first question comes up before I even get back in position. It’s a fairly standard history question, one that I could easily answer, and I’m surprised when Enforcer and Beta get it wrong, earning an extra two minutes each on their hang times. The rest of the girls are correct, each having bet the max time.

Question two is a toughie, quoting some obscure classic novel, and Beta, Enforcer and Pixie all wisely wager zero. Alpha, on the other hand, loses her three minutes from the last question, while Bethany calmly gains another three-minute reprieve.

Enforcer chick and Beta are really sweating now, and Pixie’s looking pretty nervous again as well, while the Alpha bitch and Bethany are cool as cucumbers. Question three changes much of that, as the complex math problem puts the overconfident Alpha another three minutes in the hole and leaves the rest wagering zero – except of course my little genius. Three more minutes off of her time, and she’s even starting to enjoy herself, sending smirks over to the now scared looking Alpha.

The next two questions should be easy for college girls, but Alpha and her Enforcer are too frightened, and they totally flub them. To make it even worse, Alpha wagers the full three each time, still believing in her superiority. Enforcer only gains an extra two minutes of hanging, but that takes her to twenty-four minutes, a huge challenge for even a well-conditioned girl like her.

Beta answers both questions correctly, but only wagers a minute each time, so she’s back to twenty minutes and not looking happy about it. Meanwhile Pixie’s confidence is back, and she does well for herself, needing to survive on the ropes for ‘only’ eleven minutes – forever when you’re in the air, but definitely survivable if she doesn’t panic.

My girl Bethany has managed to take off the full fifteen minutes, just as I said she would, and she’s now grinning from ear to ear as she watches the Alpha Girl break, yelling and thrashing around as best she can, threatening us all with her family’s power. Her rants are greeted by derisive laughter from the audience - stupid bitch has no clue how many big fish have memberships here.

At any rate, just as Alpha’s shrill hysterics and her friends’ sobs are getting annoying, they are cut off by the nooses humming to life and pulling the girls off their feet. Ah, there’s no sound quite like the gurgling, choking and rasping noises that a girl makes in the first moments of a hanging – a good thing, too, since there usually isn’t any movement from most girls during that time. Of course, Alpha has to be an exception to the rule, not that I’m complaining. She panics the second her feet leave the ground, and starts to thrash and kick violently, shaking her lush assets wonderfully for us. Yummy, I don’t know whether to get horny or hungry.

I get tipped over to horny a minute later as the Alpha’s desperate movements unnerve another girl, putting her into an uncontrolled air dance as well. Unfortunately, that girl is our Pixie. Oh well, I just resign myself to the fact that I have a fairly low chance of eating her raw, and enjoy her sexy and, yes, cute movements as much as humanly possible.

Four minutes in, and Alpha’s friends are getting pretty twitchy, but haven’t given in yet, focused intensely on forcing air past the constrictions around their throats, but Bethany, the cheeky little monkey, has commenced her own air dance, this one deliberate and controlled, designed pretty much just to bounce those amazing tits of hers around for our viewing pleasure. By the time she comes down a minute later, Paul is being inundated with very lucrative offers for her services, a surprising number of them quite vanilla in their terms.

As soon as my young friend is on the ground, Jack releases her from her bonds and she runs over to give me a big hug. That doesn’t last long, however, as I see that her cunt is running like a river and turn her so that her little ass is pointed at my husband. He doesn’t need any better hint, and he promptly grabs her tiny waist, positioning her for a doggy style fuck that allows them both to enjoy the continuing show.

For my own part, I’ve been ready to pop off for awhile, and that isn’t being helped any by Bethany leaning over my kneeling body, pressing those tits of hers into the back of my left shoulder and reaching around to caress my own breasts. The moans and whimpers of delight that she’s breathing into my ear are almost the final straw, but I manage to hold back. I want to wait for someone’s terminal moment, and it doesn’t look like I have long to wait.

By this time, we’re nearing the ten-minute mark, and both Alpha and Pixie are tiring visibly, their kicks now more spasmodic and weak. Their faces are rapidly darkening now, their tongues starting to protrude, and then it happens. Pixie’s eyes, which had been getting pretty vacant, suddenly widen, and she starts to convulse and shiver, not from death throes, but from an orgasm. Her slender hips are humping away, and there’s a radiant joy in her face that’s amazing to look at.

Pixie’s cum seems to drain her rapidly, and soon she’s back to the vacant stare, drool running from her chin as her cute body twitches and shudders occasionally. Piss starts to run down her slender legs, and I’m almost certain that she’s done for, when her rope automatically starts to lower, her time completed. She’s really damn limp when she hits the floor, but Jack is right there to take her noose off and start trying to revive her, so I keep holding back, wanting to see a sure thing before I go off.

Good thing I waited too, because now Alpha’s starting to shudder and jerk around violently, and it’s not from a climax. Nope, there’s terror in those green eyes of hers as her body starts to die, and then they roll up into her head. There’s an almighty, final jerk that bounces her big tits nicely, and then she goes still as her bladder voids itself in a big gush. The fingers on my tits suddenly twist my nipples simultaneously with the death piss, and that takes me right over the edge.

I’ve been over stimulated and holding off for so long that my cum is huge, huge enough that I’m unaware of my surroundings for many minutes. By the time I come out of it, Beta and Enforcer are well along in their own air dances. The Hispanic girl is still doing well for herself, but she has a long way to go yet, while the Asian is getting that twitchiness and glazed look already. I check the clock, and I see that we’re at the eighteen-minute mark – Beta’s close, in both ways.

I’m trying to predict whether the girl is toast or not, when somebody suddenly slides their face under me and starts to eat me out enthusiastically. Looking down, I see that Pixie has survived, and is quite thankful to me despite her extremely close call with death. I smile down at the girl, and then go back to watching the show, just enjoying the ride.

The clock approaches the twenty minute mark with the Asian girl tiring and looking about done for, but she’s still barely holding out when her rope starts to lower her. She even manages to stand on her own, though she’s unsteady enough for Jack to come over and help her. I guess her ordeal, or maybe just her survival of it, has gotten her pretty worked up, because a few moments later the game’s main attendant is plowing the elegant girl’s pussy while she cries and screams encouragement. Nice.

Enforcer has two minutes to go, and she seems to be doing well, fighting her bonds and the rope enthusiastically, when she bucks in a particularly violent yet awkward manner. Suddenly I hear a loud CRACK, and the last girl’s athletic body shudders and then goes limp, other than an occasional twitch. She’s obviously dead, given the new, impossible angle of her neck and the frozen, surprised look on her face. Wow, that’s something I haven’t seen in this game yet, but I guess with the strength of her struggles, and the extra weight of her dense, muscular body, I should have seen it coming.

No longer needing to watch the nooses, I lean down and get into a lovely 69 with Pixie, wondering what we’re going to do with her now, and whether I’ll ever find out her actual name…

[center]Part Seventeen – Swift Actions[/center]

I must say; Pixie has a wonderfully experienced tongue, and a very tasty little honey-pot. I’ve had like three shared orgasms with the girl since the end of the hangings, and we’ve only stopped because my husband and Paul pulled us apart. I wouldn’t say that I’m fond of the girl yet, don’t know her that well, but I have to admit that it’s tempting to take her as our sex slave. I know that won’t happen though, at least, not for more than 48 hours – those are our rules, and we haven’t broken them yet. Besides, with Sarah waiting at home for us, I think having another new girl around would confuse my kids too much. Oh well, time to see what’s going on.

I look around, and what’s going on is a hell of a lot of girls in peril, though the most blatantly lethal stuff like the guillotines are currently not in use. This isn’t any kind of surprise, as it’s easier to trick a newbie with something like a strangle chord or stocks (followed by…something bad) than it is to get them to put their necks under a big freakin’ blade specifically made to cut their silly little heads off.

Meanwhile, closer to home, Beta is cuddling – that’s right, actually cuddling – with Jack, cum drizzling from her every orifice and a very satisfied look on both of their faces. Bethany is laying exhausted on the stage in a much similar condition. Looks like Pixie and I weren’t the only ones that were a bit worked up.

I’m feeling pretty good myself, until I notice someone trying to convince Paul to let him buy Bethany’s tits – that’s right, her tits. Dude wants to pop those puppies into a breast guillotine and turn them into a culinary work of art. Oh, did I mention this someone happens to the club’s rather stoic, intimidating head chef? He used to specialize in sushi, back in the good old non-meat-girl days, but now he’s renowned for his skills with the flesh of the fairer sex. Oh boy.

I can see Paul is about to be pushed over into making a deal, that is until he looks our way and sees the peaceful look on an oblivious, sexually zonked out Bethany’s face. Paul shakes his head emphatically at the chef, and I sigh in relief. Looks like my young friend’s affections are reciprocated, and her magnificent chest ornaments will live to see another day.

The chef is looking mighty unhappy at Paul’s stubbornness, and then he stops and whispers something that earns a nonchalant shrug. A moment later, and the pair are headed our way. I can feel my brows creasing with worry, and there’s a sinking feeling in my stomach as they approach, and then Paul grabs Pixie’s leash to hand it over to the chef. Well, crap.

Paul is all business, of course. “Girl, go with this man and do whatever he tells you. He’s your Master for the rest of the night.”

Pixie looks absolutely mystified. “Wha-?” That’s all she gets out before her new owner grunts in displeasure and pulls a gag from his nifty utility belt thing, popping it into her mouth before she can say anything more. Seconds later, the impatient, impressively strong man is practically dragging the poor girl towards the stairs.

Now, I’ll admit, I don’t care about the girl, not really, but this seems a bit unfair given her cooperation and trials during the rest of the evening. I glare at Paul, my voice icy. “Paul, please tell me all that girl is about to lose is her tits…” I trail off as the mismatched duo breaks off for the guillotines. “Oh.” Sorry, that’s all I can force out as I watch the swift efficiency of the professional girl killer. Pixie’s hands are still cuffed from the hanging game, and he’s three times her weight anyway, all in muscle no less, so the process seems effortless and smooth as he lifts her squirming body by the back of the neck, shoves her down to her knees with her head past the bottom lunette, and pulls the quick kill rope.

It’s barely five seconds between the moment Pixie becomes aware of her true peril and the instant that the top of the lunette drops to trap her neck. A second after that, and the blade is already on the way down. The poor thing has just enough time for a muffled squeak of surprise and a, yes, cute little kick, and then it’s over with the solid THUNK of the blade hitting bottom. Suddenly the definition of patience, the chef calmly reaches up for some suspension cuffs, conveniently hanging there for just such occasions, and attaches them to the new carcass’s ankles. A moment later, and Pixie’s body is hanging upside down, still twitching a little and drizzling oodles of blood into a drain.

I stare at that body for a while, still trying to process what just happened. It was all so fast that it’s kind of surreal. One moment, I’m cuddling with a cute girl in post orgasmic bliss, mutual I hope, and then a literal minute later, she’s hanging meat, dead as dead can be. I mean, shit, not five minutes ago I was clamping her head with my thighs, and now it’s sitting in a damn bucket.

I glance up at Paul finally, and he’s looking rather chagrined and guilty now. Good. “Look, Meg, I’m really sorry, but I had to do something to get him off my back, or one way or another, he was going to get Bethany…I offered him the girl’s tits, that was my original intent, but, well, she didn’t really have much in that department, and, well…”

I sigh in resignation, as I have far too many times before in this place – it’s one of the downsides to places like this that keeps me from picking up too much bloodlust. Besides, he has a good point – that chef does have a tendency of getting what he wants - mind you, he prefers true volunteers, but when there aren’t enough of them… “Okay Paul, I understand…and I really am glad you saved Bethany. Just, humor me a moment and take me over there, would you? And uncuff me while you’re at it, please.”

Paul gives me a relieved smile, and then he grabs my leash. John makes to follow, and I stop him with a hand on his chest. “Don’t worry about me honey, you know I’m safe. Just take Bethany to the coat room and get dressed, and we’ll meet you there.” He looks like he wants to protest, so I gesture towards the small group of interested spectators now hanging around the guillotines. “Dear, she’s not safe, not after that, and especially not over there. Now hurry, before we get any more interested parties.”

My husband nods and casually leads Bethany off to the stairs, while Paul and I journey over to the cutters. Pixie’s body is now still, of course, and the flow of blood is pretty slow now. The chef is gone now, leaving a bouncer to guard my short-term friend’s meat from being disturbed. I give the hanging carcass a quick glance, and then move on to the head bucket. It really is a bucket, believe it or not, though a big one. Evidently one of the other Sorority chicks had met her doom here as well while the hanging game was on, because Pixie’s head is lying on a soft bed of curly blonde hair. How sweet.

I carefully pick up Pixie’s head, studying her frozen look of utter surprise for a moment. I see no real signs of actual terror or horror, so it seems likely that the chef’s speed was such that she didn’t truly know what was coming. Good for her.

I gently remove the gag and close the girl’s eyes and mouth, manipulating her features until it looks like she’s peacefully sleeping. I give her a little kiss, and then I march over to the bouncer. I thrust Pixie’s head at him as he steps back in surprise. “I want this on the Wall, right next to the twins from last night.” He opens his mouth, but I don’t give him a chance to say a word. “Yes, I know she’s not a stunning beauty, but she’ll be the cutest thing put up there in a long while, and gave us an amazing air dance.” He’s opening his mouth again. “Oh, yeah, and you can put it on his account.” I point my thumb at Paul, with a look that just dares him to contradict me. Lucky for him, he just sighs and hands his card over. Good boy.

As the boys make the arrangements, I glance over at the bloody guillotine, and notice that Pixie’s ID card is laying in the remnants of her initial spray of blood. Picking it up, I wipe at it with my thumb until I can make out her information. Tandy, her name was Tandy. Jesus, even her name was cute. She was just twenty two, a kid right on the brink of adulthood, her whole life still ahead of her…but no more, just like Sharon’s twins, Paul’s Cynthia, and sweet Maria, who my daughters had loved so. All that potential gone, wasted.

Suddenly the stupid unfairness of it all is overwhelming me, and I feel tears rolling down my cheeks as I start to hyperventilate, and everything starts to tunnel on me. Next thing I know, I’m on the coat room floor, and Bethany, now back in her coat, is holding me, rocking me gently while she hums something soothing, if a bit off key, the side of my head pressed to her very comfortable bosom.

Nice as that is, I know time is wasting, and it would be cruel to make Sharon wait any longer than necessary for news of her daughters’ fates, so I push myself up, giving Bethany a little kiss and smile. The men are right there, looking anxious and worried, and that makes me giggle a little. “Don’t worry about me guys, just had a bad moment there, I’ll be okay now.”

The guys look relieved, but are still eager to help me with my coat – who says chivalry is dead? We head out the door and towards the bouncer, so that we can do our exit scans on our cards (or in Bethany’s case, Stella’s card). Ahead of us is Jack, a young woman on his arm. They turn towards us at the sound of our footsteps, and I’m surprised to see that the girl is Beta, the lovely Asian from downstairs.

Feeling a bit protective of the boy, I pull him over to the side as our tags get scanned in. “Jack, buddy, is this your date, or did you take ownership of her?”

He turns red in the face with embarrassment – remember; he associates me with his parents, teachers and other authority figures, despite having seen me in some very embarrassing situations - what happens in the club, stays in the club, I guess. “Uh, well, Mrs. Harper, Ayumi is a really nice girl, like, really sweet, but not all shy or anything, and after we…you know…well, we got to talking, and we have lots in common, and…”

I hold up my hand to stem the tide of nervous words. “Jack, it’s okay, I’m not going to report you to the dating police! I’m just a little worried, you know, given who this girl was hanging with tonight.”

He relaxes, and smiles as he squeezes my arm in excitement. “Oh, well, I thought the same thing when we were first doing things, and I was actually planning to get her on the rack, you know, to stretch her ‘til she agreed to roast for my Dad’s birthday, he’d have liked that, rare meat and all…but, well, she’s not like those others at all! I mean, she said she used to be, but then they bullied her sister until she gave herself to the butchers, and she realized how horrible they all were…she’s been stuck with those bitches, but she’s really trying…you know, for her sister…”

He trails off as I sigh. “Well, Jack, you’re a big boy, you can make your own judgments…and, well, you seem happy enough, so I guess that’s what matters. Just, be careful, okay? And not just of this…Ayumi, but for her, because if she ends up being the one, you know what your father is going to say.”

Jack’s dad is a bit of an odd bird – nice enough, but paranoid about gold diggers going after his kids’ money, or his own for that matter. As such, he won’t let any girl get serious with him or his sons unless she agrees to be hunted by them – and I mean really hunted, with rifles and a very serious intent to turn the poor thing into dinner. So far only one of Jack’s four brothers has managed to get married, if that tells you anything.

The boy just grins at me. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Harper, I’m actually counting on the hunt to make sure that I’m not being taken advantage of, and even if I’m right and she’s the real deal…well, just look at her, and imagine that running through the woods naked, or turning on a spit!”

I have to laugh at the hungry look he gives the clueless girl. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Now reassured, I send Jack back to his date, take my husband’s arm, and start preparing myself for the unpleasant task that awaits me at home.

[center]Part Eighteen – Decisive Discussions[/center]

Every time I look at my daughters, I’m amazed at how fast they have grown. It seems like just yesterday that they were suckling at my breasts, and now here they are, beautiful, intelligent little ladies on the verge of adolescence, and all that entails. I’m looking at them right now, sitting in their room, watching them sleep by the soft light of the moon and a distant streetlight.

They really are beauties, and will be even more so as they grow up. I try to imagine them as I will never get to see them, as adults, their lithe figures filled out, midnight hair perhaps grown longer, those identical faces that remind me so much of their long dead aunt matured. I just know that these girls will one day become a vision to drive men mad, and I can only hope that John and Sarah can handle them properly when that time comes.

Of course, my concerns over that, while not uncommon, are particularly sharp right now, after what happened to Sharon’s twins. I first met them when they were much the same age as my own twins currently are, and had the same cuteness and sweet precociousness. Now, they are just bones in a dumpster and a pair of heads to be admired by strangers, while their mother lays on my couch, heavily sedated in order to give her shocked system some rest from her grief, their brother asleep in the guest bedroom unaware that he will never again see his beloved sisters, his biggest heroes. Not the ending that I would have imagined for them, and not one that I wish to see for my own little girls.

Thinking back on Sharon’s understandably intense reaction to her daughters’ deaths, I give silent thanks to Bethany and Paul for having come home with us, in order to help out with my dread task. They had been indispensable, helping me to comfort and, as necessary, control my best friend while John and Sarah saw to the children, getting them into bed and keeping them unaware of the drama just downstairs.

After we had finally dosed Sharon, and the house was quiet again, the five of us sat at the kitchen table and my new miracle girls, Sarah and Bethany, were introduced. Being mutual survivors against all odds of both the system and poverty, and being of pretty much the same age and actual maturity levels, the two hit it off incredibly well, well enough that when bedtime came, they wound up sharing a bed together over at Sharon’s house, while John and I finally got some alone time. For his part, Paul had to go pick up his younger kids, and will be explaining the huge changes in their lives to them, before coming back for his new companion. I really hope that he comes to an arrangement with her like my John has with Sarah.

I suddenly come out of my reverie when I notice that my girls’ eyes are open and looking right at me. I have no idea how long they’ve been watching me, but their eyes are filled with concern.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” That would be Amber, no surprise there.

I smile and move a stray strand of hair from her face. “Nothing that you need to worry about right now, honey. You just go back to sleep, and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Julie shakes her head. “No way momma, you’ll be too busy with Auntie Sharon. It’s now or never.”

I don’t even get a chance to respond before Amber grabs my hand and looks me straight in the eye, her face as serious as I’ve ever seen it. “Mom, Carrie and Caylee are dead, aren’t they?”

I pull back a bit in shock. “How-how did you…”

Julie takes my other hand. “Momma, we know a lot more than you think we do. We know they went to your club.”

Amber breaks in next – they’re taking turns, not giving me a chance to figure out what to say. “Heck, mom, we know what your club is, for real.”

Julie again. “And we know why Sarah is here. We know she’s our new mother.”

Finally, Amber, after biting her lip for a moment. “And, and we know why we need one.” Suddenly she looks angry. “What we don’t know is why you haven’t told us yet. Don’t you trust us? We’re big girls now, mom! We can handle it!”

Oh god, tears are spilling down both sets of cheeks. I pull my darlings to me and hug them hard, kissing the tops of their heads. “Oh, girls! I know that…it’s just, I’ve been so busy with making arrangements, getting Sarah settled in, and then the whole thing with Carrie and Caylee…I-I guess I just didn’t realize how much time had passed, how that must have looked to you. I’m sorry babies, I didn’t mean to hurt you…”

We just stay like that for a while, calming down and just savoring the moment of peaceful togetherness, and then I pull back and look them in the eyes. “As for your first question; yes, the twins are gone.” I stop for a moment, considering what to say. “Look, you need to understand something. We live in a very different world from the one I grew up in. It’s very dangerous to be a girl now, especially for ones the twins’ age, but really for all of us, death can come for us at a moment’s notice. Now, the twins made some bad choices, in the name of fun, but they really weren’t doing anything wrong, they were just…good girls that got mixed up in a bad situation.”

Julie’s lips start to tremble. “But, but what about you, momma? You didn’t do anything wrong! It ain’t fair!”

“Isn’t, sweety, not ain’t. And no, it really isn’t fair, but that doesn’t change the fact that I won’t be with you anymore after Friday morning. I won’t be there for you as you finish growing up, and I’m so, so sorry.”

It’s my turn to go all weepy, and my girls make me proud by being there for me, offering comfort to me without a second’s thought. Soon they have me calmed enough to continue. “Sweeties, this is important. I need you to know that Sarah isn’t trying to barge in here and take over, and she really isn’t trying to replace me. She’s a sweet girl that I really, really like, who would have died if I hadn’t chosen her. She has no family now other than you girls and your daddy, and she’s scared to death that she won’t measure up to the job that I’ve shoved on her.”

I give their hands a hard squeeze. “Now, I need you to make me a solemn promise. I know you’re big girls now, so I need you to help Sarah and your daddy out after I’m gone. Things are going to be really hard for them, for a lot of reasons, and they’re going to be feeling really lost sometimes, so…”

Amber smiles and interrupts me. “Don’t worry about us, mom. We’ll take care of them, and I’ll keep Jules here out of trouble.”

Julie punches her sister on the shoulder, an exaggerated look of outrage on her face. “Hey! I’m not that bad! Well, most of the time, anyway.”

Amber snorts. “Sure, you’re good, except when Tommy’s around!”

Julie looks embarrassed now, mumbling something about Amber liking him too, and I’m a little taken aback. Tommy is Sharon’s son, the one that she had near the same time as my girls. He’s also my godson, and a good kid, but he’s also no end of trouble. I’m pretty much used to just seeing him as the godson that I love to spoil and send home, and my girls’ occasional playmate, but now I’m starting to see him as a potential future threat.

I know, I know, he’s just ten, what harm can he do? Well, the problem is, soon enough he’s going to be in high school with my girls, and high school boys are always trying to prove themselves to each other. Back in my day, that meant you had to worry about things like date rape, nude pics sent around the school, rumors, and getting pregnant. Nowadays…well, let’s just say that lately, many a teen girl has gone off to a party with some boy and never been seen again. Well, at least there’s the chance that my plans will work out, and my girls won’t be around for the boy to take advantage of. On the other hand…

I give my girls another hand squeeze to get their attentions. “Okay girls, I’m glad you brought this up. Boys. I know that you’re getting to the age where you’re starting to like them, but you need to be really, really careful around them.” Eye rolls greet me. “No, I’m not talking about pregnancy and diseases here. I know they covered that in your health classes. What they didn’t cover was that when you get to be teens, boys, and some men, will say or do anything to get what they want out of you, and sometimes that won’t just be sex. I wasn’t kidding when I said that it’s dangerous out there for girls of all ages. There are those that don’t care about the law, and I don’t want you to end up their victims. That means no going to some boy’s house, or to parties, raves, clubs, or anywhere out of the public eye, not until you’re in college, and even then you’d better be damned sure about the boy. Got it?”

The poor things have eyes like saucers. Damn, I hate to shock them like this, but really, it’s not much different from the warnings my mother gave to me at this age – the only difference is that back then, the cops actually bothered to look into missing girls, and the public was dead set against the kinds of men that would snatch a young girl and use her up for their own pleasure. Nowadays…not so much.

At any rate, I’m able to wrangle some promises out of them, and then it’s on to concerns that are much more immediate. “Alright, now girls, most people don’t know this, but things are about to get a whole lot worse for girls in this country. I can’t go into why, or how I know, but I can tell you that I’m sure of it, and that I am sure as hell not going to let it happen to you. So, I’m working on a plan, to make sure that you’re going to be safe after I’m gone, but in order for it to work, you have to do everything that Sarah tells you to, no matter what. Can you do that for me?”

My two girls look at each other for a long moment, and then Amber nods slightly. They turn back to me and give me their words, and then I silently give them another hug before heading off to my own bed, and, hopefully, sleep.

I wake up to the smell of breakfast, and more importantly, fresh coffee. Bleary eyed, I reach my hand over to my husband’s side of the bed and find it empty. After a restless night, I’m very, very tired, but I know that sleep just isn’t in the cards for me, so I get up and throw on a random housedress.

Making my way downstairs, I find the whole extended family waiting for me in the dining room, our seldom-used drop-leaf table set for a feast. Sharon is seated at the foot of the table, with her son and my girls on her left, Bethany, Sarah and my husband on her right. The head of the table, John’s normal spot, has been saved for me, and a covered plate is there waiting for me.

Everyone turns as I enter the room, and I’m greeted by a chorus of good mornings and such. Everyone’s smiling, even the drawn and weary looking Sharon, and I choke up as I feel the love in the room, the swiftly made, tight bonds between them that have been forged by adversity and a common thread of basic caring and decency.

My best friend gets up and gives me a big, literally breathtaking hug, and then she leads me to my chair and seats me there with a big, firm hand on my shoulder. “Meg, sugar, we all got together this morning and chewed things over, and wouldn’t ya know it, the whole time since ya got the letter from those…” She pauses and breathes out slowly, obviously fighting the urge to go off on a rant. “Well, anywho, this is supposed to be a quiet time for a girl, ya know. A time to spend with the family, to get a last bit o’ happiness outa life before it’s over. But you’ve been a bad gal, helpin’ out alla us instead, so we’ve decided to punish ya.”

They’re all grinning at me now as Sharon kisses the top of my head and stomps over to her chair. As soon as she is seated, Bethany stands up, a mock serious expression on her face. “As a nominal outsider, I have been appointed Judge in this case. All of the facts have been presented to me, and I have rendered my decision.” She’s delivering this speech with a deep, grave voice, her performance way over the top. “Megan Alexandra Harper, it is the decision of this court that you be banished from this house until mid-day Thursday, to serve out a sentence of frivolity, to be overseen by your new warden, John Harper, and his assistants, Amber and Julie Harper. This sentence is to be carried out immediately following your last meal as a free woman. I suggest you enjoy it, and may god have mercy on your soul.”

That last bit was too much, and everybody breaks down into laughter. After everyone calms down a bit, John stands and takes hold of the lid that still lies over my plate. “And now, my dear, we have a last thank you from someone who couldn’t be here today, owing to a slight case of decapitation. Voila!” He reveals my plate, and there lies a magnificently prepared cunt-steak, obviously the one that I was tonguing just the night before, given the rather blatant clue my husband just gave me. I’m actually a little surprised at his openness about this around the kids, but Tommy’s blank look tells me he doesn’t know the word, and as for my girls, well, I somehow get the feeling that they were the instigators in all of this. Besides, I don’t think that any of them can see what’s on my plate, or would know what it is even if they could.

Bethany leans forward to speak now. “This is also an apology from my Paul. He felt really bad about upsetting you like that, so he had the chef prepare this for you, so that you’d know that the girl was eaten by someone that cared for her. Um, please don’t be mad at him, he really didn’t mean for that to happen.”

I smile reassuringly at her. “Don’t worry dear, I’m not angry. I just got caught up in a wish that things could be like they were when I was a kid. I guess it’s a generational thing.” I take my knife and fork, and cut the first piece of my gift. “Anyway, I’m sure that Tandy would have appreciated this. Thank Paul for me, would you?”

Bethany looks mystified for a moment at the name I just tossed out, but she quickly figures it out. “Yes, I’m sure that she would have asked for you to have it if she had been given the chance. And don’t worry, I’ll show him plenty of appreciation when he finally takes me home.”

I chuckle at that, and then settle in to enjoy a very special breakfast indeed.

[center] Part Nineteen – Needed Reliefs[/center]

It takes me awhile to get going at the start of the day. I’ve just never been a morning person, unless you count staying up all night until the sun is up again. This one has not been an exception, and so I’ve been taking my good old time finishing off my wonderful repast and about a pot of fresh coffee. No one has pressured me to hurry up – instead we’ve been having a series of light conversations on meaningless stuff like movies, music and theoretical physics (believe it or not, that one was started up not by Bethany, but by my girls, though our resident genius had plenty of input on the subject).

Finally, there is no room left in my stomach, and I’m feeling a definite need for a shower. I stand up, and that’s when I find out that Bethany was not kidding when she said my banishment was to immediately follow breakfast. Turns out my friends are deadly serious about making sure I don’t have time to get myself involved in anyone else’s troubles, because they practically jump me, herding me irresistibly towards the front door, ignoring my protests about the shower and the shoddiness of my current attire.

Once we are through the front door and it is shut behind me, Sharon, Sarah and Bethany stop me and wait while my husband and daughters go about putting the finishing touches on the packing and loading of the car, most of which was apparently done while I slept in.

Sharon turns to me, her eyes hard as she studies me for a moment. “Meg, these two have something to say to ya. I want ya to hear ‘em out. Please, for me.” I open my mouth to ask what the hell she’s talking about, but she stops me with a simple shake of the head. “You’ll find out in a moment, sugar. Just, please, some things are too important to do all to yourself.” She opens the door and starts to step through. “Now, I betta’ make sure Tommy-boy ain’t settin’ the place on fire!”

As the door closes behind her, I look at Sarah and Bethany, who are themselves sending looks towards each other. Finally Bethany speaks up, while shifting her gaze to me and doing that weird soul-reading thing of hers. “Ma’am, you’re up to something, something really big. Don’t deny it, we’ve all seen the signs, not to mention you’ve dropped more hints than is ethical or advisable. Heck, you’ve even clued in your kids! Now, we’ve all figured out that it revolves around your girls, and that Sarah here is key. I’m also pretty certain that a certain spoiled bitch’s identifying…stuff…is an essential as well.”

My jaw is hanging open, I probably look like the village idiot, and all I can manage to get out is something resembling the word ‘how’.

Gentle hands take mine, and then it’s Sarah looking into my eyes. Great, tag team action on the overstuffed housewife by the new wonder-twins, like that’s really fair! “Meg, you picked me, remember? You saved both of us from certain deaths, and set us up with amazing men. One of us is apparently a central actor in saving your girls from something that scares you more than a snuff club, and the other is a certified goddamned genius. You need us, admit it. You need us, and that means you need to trust us, tell us what’s going on, and let us help you.” Wow, I don’t think I’ve heard Sarah swear before (note to self, fuck the girl at least once before you die, find out if she curses during her orgasms!). This is definitely an issue that these girls won’t allow me to push aside.

I sigh and look longingly at where my kids are arguing good-naturedly over who gets what seat, a pre-trip tradition of theirs that serves no real purpose, since they long ago established that Julie likes to stare at passing cars (or more accurately, their passengers), while Amber loves to watch the scenery go by.

Oh well, no sense in putting this off any longer. “Look, girls, it’s not that I don’t trust you, same as my husband and kids. It’s that if things go all swirly on me, I need all of you to have plausible deniability.” I harden my expression. “You’re not getting into trouble on my account, got it?”

Bethany snorts and rolls her eyes. “Ma’am, that’s not going to work, not for us. See, you’re forgetting, we’re extra-legal non-entities at the moment, officially snuffed and gone, so if any authorities come sniffing around…well, it really won’t matter what we knew, will it?”

I can feel the blood draining from my face as I realize that I’ve miscalculated here. Even if things go according to plan, there’ll still be officials poking around. Before, that wasn’t a problem, because Sarah will be far out of their reach, along with my girls. But now, with Paul’s interactions with us, and Bethany’s presence with him…my plan is now a renewed death sentence for her. Christ, I might as well have just snuffed her at the club as a favor! Shit, time for a change of plans, or really, an expansion of them.

Decision made, I gather Sarah and Bethany into a huddle and in a low voice, explain what needs to be done, why, and by whom…

Not twenty minutes after that impromptu first meeting of my conspiracy club, I’m smiling as I look out the window, joining Amber in enjoying the scenery while I consider how things have suddenly changed. I must admit I’m a whole heck of a lot less worried over the plan, and not just because I’ve finally shared it with someone. No, my mind has been put at ease by Bethany’s swift grasp of, well, everything, including many things that I hadn’t considered, or that will now need to be added in order to keep Bethany alive. Add to that their insistence that the two of them take care of any work that needs to be done in the interim, and I’m actually relaxing and enjoying this final time with my family.

Family trips are a tradition and an obsession for us, an irony considering that John and I both come from parents that were rather distant and uninvolved with their kids, socially speaking. Neither of us had been on a family vacation until we decided to take the kids to Disney when they were five. It was, of course, a Chevy Chase level disaster, but one that we learned from, and even managed to get some enjoyment out of. Since then, we’ve had at least one outing as a family unit per month, and we usually squeeze in more than that.

This one is limited in distance, due to my status as a potential runaway. See, back when this whole eating girls thing started, loads of potential dinners headed for the border as soon as they were informed of their new duties to the State. The State of course responded by instituting a policy of confiscating the female relatives of Runners, but that wasn’t as effective as it would seem – Runners just slipped off with their at risk family members instead of going it solo. The solution was to track vehicles owned by State meat-girls and their family members. This was made very easy by the fact that years before, the government took over Onstar, the GPS driven car technology, put it in the control of the highway safety schmucks, and then made it mandatory in all vehicles.

Basically what all that means, is that as soon as my number came up, our family car’s Onstar tracking was red-flagged, so that if we leave the bounds of the county or try to tamper with the stupid GPS, minutes later we’ll find ourselves surrounded by a shit-ton of really annoyed doughnut eaters. Thus, wherever it is that we’re going (I’m apparently not privy to such information), it can’t be too far from home. Of course, I have my suspicions, at least as far as where our first destination is, because my daughters, smart as they are for their age, are still only ten, and apparently didn’t think when they got dressed for the trip this morning – I can clearly see that they have their bathing suits on under their shorts and shirts.

Sure enough, after another twenty minutes, we’re pulling into the vast parking area of Water World, a perennial favorite of ours. Water World is of course a water park, and a huge one at that, but what really makes it special for us, is that unlike most amusement parks and beaches nowadays, it is completely family friendly, stubbornly refusing to give in to the trend of offering adult only nude areas licensed for snuffing and such.

John and I actually go to one of those types of beaches every once in a blue moon, but we usually just sit just outside the limits of the zones and watch everything through binoculars. Now, I’m no coward, but a girl would have to be nuts to go into one of those zones, with all the frat boys, rednecks and wannabe pimp-daddies running around in there, ready to snuff or enslave a girl at the first chance, not even the barest hint of consent required. Don’t get me wrong, the private, club run beaches are more like the Spider Web, where they’ll only stoop as low as trickery to get you, but we just can’t afford to do both, so we make do with the voyeur action on the public beaches.

Same story goes for the amusement parks, except that I can never resist taking a few rides that might end in my death, and occasionally taking a turn at one of the games, once I’ve determined the risk level and how crooked they are. A few times I came really close to buying the farm, and each time I felt extremely guilty after I came down from the gambler’s high, until finally I knew I had to quit going, or else sooner rather than later, I was going to leave my girls suddenly motherless for no good reason. Who knew, right?

Well, all that said, Water World is old school, innocent fun, and my girls and I love it like nothing else for that. We’ll probably spend most of the day switching off between the fun of the slides and the relaxation of the lazy rivers and heated pools, while my dear old hubby finds a good spot to chill and ogle all the scantily clad ladies from behind his sunglasses – his way of having a little innocent fun, he says, since it reminds him of the days before women lost their rights and truly became sex objects.

[center][color=blue]Concluded below…[/color][/center]

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[center]Part Twenty – Stark Truths[/center]

There’s a cliché that after sex, girls all want to cuddle for the rest of the night, while the guys just want to roll over and go to sleep. My husband and I most definitely do not fit that pattern. One of John’s favorite things in the world is when I lay on my side in the crook of his arm, my head on his chest and one of my legs thrown over his, while he runs a hand through my hair. If he had his way, we’d do that all night long. For my part, I like that plenty well myself – for about ten minutes, and then I start getting this extreme need to go take a shower. Sorry, romance is great and all, but I have a hard time enjoying it when I’m stinky, covered in sweat, and leaking sticky stuff onto my inner thighs. Besides, there are few things I enjoy more than a long, relaxing, hot shower after I’ve had a good dicking.

Anyway, that’s why I’m in a hotel shower right now, while my hubby is off to the adjoining room to check on the girls, who passed out in the back of the car minutes after we left Water World’s parking lot. We carried them in, changed them and tucked them in without waking either of them a single time. It would have been disturbing if it wasn’t so damned cute, the way they sleep like the dead after an excursion. However, that was many hours ago, so a check on them must be made, just for our peace of mind.

As the water runs over my soapy body, and my hands lazily do the same, I lean against the wall and close my eyes, reliving in my head the past few hours of slow, gentle and yet extremely passionate lovemaking. I can’t believe how incredible it was! Not that our sex life isn’t good, in fact I’d have to say we would have been fucking like bunnies into our nineties if I had been allowed to live that long, but this went to a whole different level. It was like our first time after the wedding, but with the advantage of knowing each other’s bodies and buttons like our own, and with the added context of having shared fourteen years of living and love together. Throw in that this was possibly the last chance for us to make love, and, well, let’s just say this has been one of the most powerful nights of my life.

The thought of never making love with my beloved John again makes my contentment evaporate, and I suddenly start to think of all of the other things that I’ll never do again, all of the things that I never got to do at all. I can feel my emotions going down in a spiral of regret, bitterness, loss, and no small amount of stark terror. Tears mix with the shower water as I slide down the wall, great, heaving sobs wracking my body.

The next thing I know, I hear my husband’s shocked voice saying something that I can’t distinguish, and then his arms are around me, picking me up and carrying me to the bed. I cling to him desperately, seeking comfort, any comfort or escape from the harsh reality of my fast approaching end.

I’ve never been one to struggle against the inevitable, preferring to focus on solvable problems, but at this moment, all I can do is hide my face in my husband’s wet shirt and wail as he tries to comfort me. “I-I c-can’t do this! I can’t…can’t just die! No! It-it’s just not f-fair! I’m too young-too young to d-d-die! Please, please don’t l-let me…I can’t…nooo…” My voice trails off into mumbles as my sobs gradually die down and I fall into a thoughtless, emotionally exhausted state, vaguely aware that my husband has been murmuring reassuringly and petting my hair the whole time.

Eventually I come to my senses and feel something wet dripping on me. I look up, and John’s face is tortured, anguished, tears running from his haunted eyes as he looks down at me. My god, what have I done to this man that I love! He pulls me in to him so tightly that it hurts. “Don’t worry baby, I’m not going to let you die. We’ll figure this out; I’ll keep you safe from them. Just-just let me make some calls…” His voice is low, choked with pain. The sound of it is like a knife to my heart.

I sit up, instantly pulled out of my funk by his distress. Pulling out of his arms, I put my hands on either side of his head, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “No. No you’re not going to call anyone. You’re not going to do anything.” He looks so lost and confused, like a little boy. “Baby, you need to forget what just happened. I’m so sorry you had to see that. It-it was just a moment of weakness, and it doesn’t change anything. Do you understand me? It doesn’t change a damned thing, because this is happening, whether we like it or not.”

He looks like he wants to contradict me, but I don’t give him a chance. “No, don’t say a word. Just listen. I don’t matter now. What happens to me, that doesn’t matter. I don’t like it, no, I hate it, but that’s the way things are, and fighting it is just going to get Sarah and the girls killed, and neither of us wants to pay that price.” He looks down, shame and helplessness, and more than a little anger all written on his face. I don’t let him get away with that, forcing him once more to look at me. “John, I love you. I love you, and the girls, more than life itself. I mean that literally. I’m going to die, so that all of you may live, and despite what you heard a few minutes ago, it’s my choice to do so. Really.”

Finally I let him speak. His voice is bitter, more so than I’ve ever heard it. “We have an option. You know that. If I can just get you near the border, your father can-“

I cover his mouth with my hand. “No, it’s too late for that. I should have given in and let you move us, but I didn’t, and now they’ll be looking for me to run, and that’s that. But just because I can’t use that option, doesn’t mean that it’s gone for the rest of you.”

My husband turns away. “Fat lot of good that’ll do us now.”

I slide over and hug him from behind, whispering in his ear. “John, honey, I need you to be strong for me now, and more important, be strong for the girls, okay.” He sighs and nods reluctantly, his shoulders still tense. I start to massage them, until he relaxes a bit more, and then I hug him again, making sure to press my breasts into his back as I purr into his ear. “Now, we’re not expected to be back until after noon. Which means that you can spend all night showing me just how strong you can be for me.”

I’m awoken by John moving around the room, packing our shit up so we can go. Judging by the light from the windows and the noises coming from our girls’ room next door, I’m guessing that it’s pretty late in the morning. That’s not too surprising since John and I kept each other up until dawn, playing some of our D/s games together for the last time before having what is likely our farewell bout of classic lovemaking.

Despite my normal morning crankiness, I’m feeling much better about things, now that I’ve finally acknowledged to myself that, yes, I’m scared shitless of dying. That said; I still have one more thing that I need to do for my peace of mind.

I slide out of bed, drawing my husband’s attention, along with his smile, and then I beckon him over to me for a sweet hug and kiss. Taking my time, I don’t draw away for several minutes, but when I do, I give him a deadly serious look, to let him know that I’m about to say something important. “John, I’m sure you’ve figured out that I have something going on, something I haven’t shared with you. Well, I still can’t tell you much of anything, for your own good, but I can give you this hint, and remember this, it’s important. There is going to be a time when you’ll think that you’ve lost everything. When you do, you need to remember that I was the one who chose Sarah, and anything that she does that you don’t understand is as if I where doing it, and then you need to call my father. If you do that, and you keep your cool, everything will be fine.”

Poor John, his old lady has gone and confused him again. Oops, ain’t I a stinker. All kidding aside though, it’s best this way, so I just stop his questions by heading off to take a shower.

[center]Part Twenty-One – Baited Breaths[/center]

It’s funny – I’ve always had a feeling that if it hadn’t been for my husband, or to get to the root of things, that fateful first trip to the Spider Web, I probably would have wound up a lesbian, though one with an occasional hankering for cock, no doubt. After all, my first sexual partners were my two best friends, who I secretly loved very deeply, and after whom my daughters were named. Add to that the fact that the female form tends to make me wet, my tendency to get very close to other girls almost effortlessly, my generally contrary attitudes, and the fact that I was terminally shy around guys back then…

Now, don’t get me wrong, I like men. In fact I sometimes like them more than I should, especially for a good, hard, no frills fucking, but for something more meaningful, more sensual, give me a sweet young woman and I’ll show you how it’s done.

All of that, along with the dictates of circumstance, and of course general curiosity, is why I am spending the last hours of my life not with my husband, who is out with Paul establishing their alibis, but with Sarah and Bethany, and we’re not sitting around talking.

As a matter of fact, right at this moment talking is pretty unlikely for any of us, as we are on our sides on my marriage bed, in a daisy chain, eating each other out and having a hell of a good time doing it. Right now I have my face buried in Sarah’s permanently hairless slit while my hands guide Bethany’s inexperienced but enthusiastic efforts between my own legs. Her own lightly furred cunny is being plundered by her new BFF, and judging by her writhing and muffled moans and whimpers (which are having a lovely affect on me, by the way), Sarah must have picked up some nice tricks during her time as meat on the hoof at Whole Foods.

It’s already a little after midnight, but we only started in with the fun and games a little while ago. I would have liked to have more time for this, but we had to make absolutely sure that everything is in place for the morning. At Bethany’s insistence, that included giving my husband a whole lot more info than I originally planned, but given that the girl had to explain everything to Paul to get him to cooperate, it made sense. That part of the meeting lasted for hours, especially since the guys had to practice the stories that they are going to give to the authorities.

Bethany’s been cumming buckets for the past few minutes, and I can tell that Sarah’s right on the edge, while I’m suddenly feeling really aggressive, so I change our positions a bit, rolling the leggy blonde over onto her back and ordering Bethany to sit on her face. I don’t think my little genius has a problem with that, to judge by her huge grin as she lowers her cunt to Sarah’s mouth. Grinning myself, I pull on my favorite strap-on and lube it up, lewdly stroking the big, fat fake phallus for Bethany’s amusement before placing it at Sarah’s wet, well stimulated lower lips.

Sarah jumps a little and squeaks in surprise as the head of the thing parts her flesh, being unable to see much other than Bethany’s ass, but then as it sinks deeper into her tight hole, she moans into her friend’s cunt and starts to push her pelvis up at me, trying to get my fake cock deeper inside her. Never one to deny a friend, I sit up, grab Sarah’s hips firmly, and start to thrust the thing in and out of her with hard, decisive strokes.

Pretty soon I’m bottomed out and having trouble holding her squirming body steady. She’s humping her slender hips, kneading at her lovely tits and mewling like a cat in heat, and I’m just along for the ride. Suddenly she grabs at the sheets of the bed, arches her back until her shoulders and feet are her sole support, and she tenses like a bow string, seconds away from a powerful orgasm, and that’s when I tell Bethany to press down until Sarah can’t get any air. The girl looks at me questioningly for a moment, and then her eyes light up with understanding and she grins as she follows my order.

Sarah of course is oblivious, caught up in sensory overload as I tease her on the edge of cumming, and then, as the blonde starts trying to push her friend off of her so she can breathe, I lean forward, grinding my hips against hers and taking her perfect tits in my hands. I lower my mouth to a nipple and bite down, and that sends her over the edge, crashing down into an oxygen-deprived orgasm. She’s bucking and thrashing like crazy, while shudders run up and down her body, and then as she starts to slow down, I motion for Bethany to move off of her. The moment she does, Sarah gasps deeply and her cum climbs back up to new heights, fueled by the sharp burst of oxygen to her starved brain.

Just when I think that Sarah is going to hurt herself, she suddenly goes limp, passed out and drooling, but looking more than satisfied. Chuckling, I withdraw my toy from her still spasming cunt and climb carefully off of her.

Bethany is looking at me in total amazement. “Wow, that was intense! Do you think I would react like that?”

I grin in response and motion for her to join me at the foot of the bed. Blushing a little, she comes into my arms, and I start to make out with her, making sure to run my hands all over her body. I position my long dildo so that it is pointed downward and between her legs, and I start to move my hips so that the top of the thing slides back and forth along the lips of her pussy. Soon enough, she’s moaning into my mouth and unconsciously moving her hips in a fucking motion, and I know that she’s ready for me.

Turning the girl around, I bend her over at the waist so that her little ass is sticking up at me and those huge tits are pushed down into the mattress. I move to her side, and she starts to move in response, but then she goes still and compliant when I smack her ass – heh, looks like Paul and Sarah already have her trained up a bit. Time to see just how much she likes this kind of play – it’s not like I haven’t been a submissive long enough to know the tricks for playing on the other side.

Taking hold of her left wrist, I pull it out to the corner of the bed, where I have a surprise for her. See, John and I bought that particular four-poster bed for a reason, which is that we wanted to permanently attach adjustable cuffs to the posts and still be able to have them out of sight when not in use. This specific design is ideal for that, so Bethany hasn’t a clue as to what I’m doing until after her wrist is tightly cuffed in place. I don’t give her a chance to react much, as I rush to her other side, pull her arm into place, and secure it as well.

Getting behind her, I can see that she’s trembling a little, but she’s also juicing up nicely, a line of wetness running down her inner thighs. Good thing too, since she’s pretty small to be taking a member the size of the one I’m now running along her slit. I give her ass a good smack. “Are you ready for me little girl?” She nods her head vigorously. Not good enough, not by a long shot. I keep teasing the hell out of her with my toy while I deliver a few more good swats. “Beg for it. Beg me to stick this thing in your little twat!”

Bethany squeals and squirms a bit, but not in distress. I can tell that she likes this, there’s too much lust in that geeky voice of hers to deny it. “Oh, yes, please Ma’am, please fuck me hard! I need to feel you stretch and pound my naughty little hole. Please Ma’am, fu-eeeep!” That last is when I grin and take her up on her offer, slamming my hips forward while pulling back on her waist. I look down, and even though I know how small she is, I’m surprised to see that only an inch or so of the dildo has gone in, her inner labia shoved inward and her outer lips stretched tight around the thick instrument. God that’s hot! A shiver runs up my spine at the sight, and I can’t stop, ignoring Bethany’s squeals and grunts of discomfort as I harshly shove more into her.

Now, don’t think that I’m being mean or vicious here – she’s pushing back at me, running wetter than ever, and when she can collect herself, she’s begging for more – and not just of the shaft that’s taking her little cunt to its limits. Nope, she wants to be punished, that’s right, punished, and she seems to really get into it when I start to smack her ass and lean over to twist her nipples. Guess it turns out she’s a closet masochist, who’d have guessed?

Anyway, it’s probably a good thing she likes pain, because my artificial extension is nearly all in, and it’s giving her poor cervix a bit of a banging. I’m being careful, as that’s not something you want to damage unless the girl is disposable, but I am making sure to bottom out just hard enough to get more of those cute squeaks and squeals out of her. My efforts are also bringing her close to orgasm, so I lean forward so that I’m laid out across her back, and then I put my left hand over her mouth. She tries to mumble a question through my hand, but I just ignore her and pinch her nostrils shut with my other hand.

Bethany starts to buck underneath me, obviously in her panic having forgotten her question that started all of this. It’s a futile struggle at any rate, between her bound wrists and my greater weight on her back, not to mention the giant rubber shaft that’s practically impaling her lower body.

I don’t totally smother her, instead giving her little snorts of air as I continue to pound her pussy into submission, or more accurately, into orgasm. I’m not far off from that goal, and it looks like it’s going to be a doozy, going by the frantic way she’s gone back to pounding back at me. Probably the euphoria and such from not getting enough air is making things a lot more intense for her, but then again, if I’ve read her right, the peril of this has got to be doing a lot for her as well.

From her twitching and trembling, I can tell that she’s right on the line between either passing out or cumming her brains out, so I let go of her face, bring my hands down, and simultaneously twist the hell out of a nipple and her little clitty. All I can say is BANG! She’s going off like the finale of a damned fireworks show! Just like her BFF, she almost throws me off in the violence of her thrashing about. She also manages to pass out from it as well, though she manages to twitch and shudder for a few minutes more than Sarah did.

Feeling much more relaxed, now that I’ve gotten…whatever this was…out of my system, I remove my strap-on and decide that it’s time to do what I really want, which is to share some nice, slow, soft lovemaking with my friends before we have to start getting ready. It’s too bad Sharon couldn’t be here too, but she’s retrieving the special thing that I asked Alistair for the last time I saw him – the man’s a saint, and a miracle worker, coming through at the last minute like this for me, well, us really.

Catching my breath, and clearing my head of things of the future, I untie Bethany and easily slide her limp, slight body up the bed to lie next to Sarah. They’re just so darling, lying together in repose like that, and I can’t help myself from lightly caressing and kissing them until their eyes flutter open. I greet them in their waking moments with a hug and a smile, and then I get down to the serious business of showing them the joys of a woman’s love.

[center]Part Twenty-Two – Terrible Partings[/center]

I’ve always loved the stillness of the pre-dawn world. There’s this timeless feeling to it that allows me to pretend that the moment will last forever, that I don’t need to worry about the future, because there is only the now. I’m glad that the concluding stage of my life is starting at this time, as I need that calm peace now more than ever. I know that I’m going to have to face my impending doom all too soon, but for the moment I’m just focusing on my driving as my ancient car makes its way through the empty streets.

Sarah is sitting next to me, lightly rubbing my thigh as she bites her perfect lips in worry. Bethany is lying along the back seat, chattering away on my phone with Paul, sounding like a teenage girl in the midst of first love. Now that I think about it, that’s exactly what she is. That’s just so sweet! Sorry, sometimes that girl’s maturity and smarts make me forget how young and innocent she really is.

Technically, Bethany’s helping the boys with their alibis as well as setting up a reason for me to be heading to the Allisons’ home at this hour – Paul will tell the cops that I went there to check on the kids. Of course, the real function of this call is to allow Bethany to get in a last talk with her Knight in Shiny Armor before they are separated from each other. I wish that our plans included a definitive timeline for when everyone will reunite, but it’s just too hard to tell how long the investigation into today’s events will last.

Oh, yes, in case you’re wondering about my daughters, well, they’re over at Paul’s already, having an overnight with his kids – his oldest is thirteen, old enough to act as babysitter in her own home. At least, that’s what we told them. I think Amber suspects the truth, and if so, she has surely told Julie by now. Just as well, that means they’ll probably be ready for us when we arrive. I just hope that Paul and Bethany were able to explain things well enough to his kids that we won’t have any drama.

Speaking of arriving, that’s just what we’re doing now. I pull into Paul’s long ass driveway, giving thanks that his house is set back from the road and screened by trees and bushes. I’d hate for things to go all pear shaped because some nosy neighbor noticed the small bus parked in front of the garage.

That bus, a nondescript but well cared for vehicle that just so happens to have the permit stickers for border crossing, also has government plates and a total lack of an Onstar unit, or any other form of tracking, for that matter. I don’t know how Alistair got his hands on it, but I’m sure that it was no easy matter. I’m so happy that I was able to show him my appreciation before he left town.

As I pull in next to the aforementioned vehicle, Sharon steps out of it and gives me a wave and a tired smile. Poor woman, she’s doing all of this work for us, and she still has to do her daughters’ memorial service later. Well, at least it won’t be the kind of overblown, exhausting affair that it would have been back in the day. Nowadays, a girl is lucky to get one at all. Another thing that should help is that most of those invited are the twins’ close friends, who are a really good lot. They’ll make sure to help Sharon out as much as possible, I’m sure.

Leaving Bethany in the car to talk with her man as long as possible, Sarah and I exit my car head towards the bus. Sharon greets us by hugging us to her sides. It’s a fierce embrace, filled with emotion. “God Meg, darlin’, I’m gonna miss the hell outta ya. You too Sarah sugar. Now, Meg, tell me again why ya can’t just vamoose with the rest o’ them on this here beastie?”

Bethany spares me the need to explain things to my oldest friend, speaking crisply as she approaches from the car, her phone call obviously completed. “Because if she’s not officially dead this morning, she’ll be declared a runner, an alert will go out, and we’ll never make it through the border. Heck, we probably wouldn’t get out of the county.” Her voice is firm, but not unkind as she crosses her arms over her expansive chest. “Look, I know it’s not fair. I mean; she rescued me from being fed – alive! – into a grinder! Don’t you think that I want to save her as much as the rest of you? I’ve wracked my brains trying to find a solution she’ll find acceptable, but all other routes put her girls at risk, and you know she won’t have that. Believe me when I tell you that there just isn’t any other way.”

Sharon, stubborn woman that she is, still looks like she wants to do something stupid, so now Sarah starts in on her. Man, these two really are quite a team. “Sharon, you trust Meg, right?”

My best friend snorts. “What the hell kinda question is that? Of course I do, with my life if it comes to it!”

“Well then, you need to trust her now. Trust that she wouldn’t give up on life so young if she had any viable choices available. Trust that she wouldn’t leave her girls motherless unless it was the only way to ensure their futures. Think about it. She isn’t just losing her life this morning. She’s losing any chance of seeing her girls growing up, getting married, having babies…all of those things a mother hopes to be there for.” Goddamn it, the girl is making me think about things I’d rather not. Fuck, I’m choking up here. “Sharon, Meg is doing something noble here, something terrible but good. She’s also hurting from it, real bad, and we’re not making it any easier on her by hashing through things yet again.”

Sharon’s face is ashen, shocked. She backs up, retreating from me. Her voice is a hoarse whisper. “My god Meg, I’m sorry. I-I’m just…sorry.” She stumbles towards the house. “Gotta get my boy. Sorry…”

I turn away from everyone, collecting myself, putting my regrets away for the moment. “Look, ladies, if we’re done talking about this Meg woman as if she wasn’t here, we have a lot of work to do, and not much time to get it done.” I turn back, and follow Sharon into the house.

When I get inside, it’s like something out of an old creepy sci-fi movie. All of the children are gathered in the living room, standing next to overstuffed old army bags. They are subdued, not really upset looking or anything, but not exactly the most chipper bunch on the planet, either. Paul’s oldest looks like a younger copy of her dearly departed big sister, all the way down to the strangely sweet seriousness of her disposition. She nods to us as we enter, and gives Bethany a little smile, but otherwise waits patiently for the adults, us, to show her the lead.

Her siblings, all four of them (yep, six kids - how did Sheryl do it?), are only half awake and rather unenthused, just kind of staring blankly at us (that’s where most of the creep factor comes in). Sharon’s son is in no better shape as he stumbles towards her, looking ready to fall asleep on his feet.

As for my own kids…

At first, they seem to be all right, quiet (an unusual state for them, to be sure), but all right, alert and prepared looking. Then I look closer, and I see how bright their eyes are, how their lips are trembling as they look at me. They’re trying so hard to be strong for me, but damn it, they’re just kids! I feel my heart breaking for them, and I rush forward, drop to my knees, and pull them in for a huge hug.

It’s like a dam bursting. The three of us instantly start balling and mumbling things that nobody besides us could understand – the words don’t matter, we know what the others are trying to say. I hurt so bad for my babies, they’re too young to be dealing with this, but we have no choice but to ask it of them.

Eventually our shared hysterics die down enough for me to notice that we are alone. The adults undoubtedly figured that it was better to use this time to herd the kids onto the bus, rather than let them witness something that was just going to get them upset as well. Good thing too, because I really wanted to get some private time with my girls, before…

It’s Julie who speaks up first, though not literally, since the best she can manage is a choked whisper. “I don’t wanna lose you momma…”

I just hold her tighter. There’s no need to answer her, she knows the whys – she just needs to rail against fate a little, to vent as I did with my husband, so I let her. She goes on in a similar vein for a while, and then, just as she quiets down, Amber takes her turn. “Mom, what if we forget you? Like, not you, but, well, like what you sound like, look like, your laugh, or the little things you do…”

I sigh, thinking of how many of those things I’ve forgotten about my hero big sister over the years. I consider my answer for a moment, and then I decide, as always, to be honest with them, even though it will be painful for them to hear. “I’m sorry baby, but over time, you will. Your mind will know how much those little reminders of me will hurt, so it’ll fade them, create a little distance, so you can function.” I pull back a little and look them in the eyes. “But let me tell you, and I know this from how it was with my sister – I’ll never be completely gone from your mind, from your life. Everything truly important that was me will still be alive in you, and they’ll be there for you when you need them. And the most important thing, that you’ll carry with you, and give to your own children someday, is the complete and total love that I have for you. Really, as long as you have that, nothing else matters.”

Someone clears their throat behind us. I look back, and Bethany is standing there, tapping her watch with an apologetic look. I nod back at her, and then turn to my girls. “Okay babies, we need to say goodbye now. It’s time to go.” I swallow, hard, to keep my voice even. “Girls, I want you to make one more promise for me. No matter what, you take care of each other, be there for each other. No. Matter. What. Okay?”

I get nods and mumbled ‘yes momma’s, and then we hug once more, passing ‘I love you’s back and forth. It’s hard, so hard to let go, because I know that when I do, this is it, this is the last time I’ll touch my family, the last time I’ll see any of them. At that point, Megan Harper will be dead, and I’ll be just another walking, talking meat source. I know that sounds overly dramatic, especially since I’ll have Sarah with me right up until just before the end, but I’ve spent my whole life being defined by my family, first my parents and sister, then John, and then John, Amber and Julie. I love my friends dearly, I really do, but they aren’t part of who I am.

Letting go and pushing my girls away feels like tearing out my soul, but I do it, turning them around and shoving them towards Bethany, who is reaching her hands out to them while watching me, her own eyes bright behind those thick glasses of hers. As she takes their hands, I tell them to go quickly, to not look back, and my newest, smartest friend mouths her own goodbye to me before leading my girls away at a brisk pace.

This swift severing is a kindness, to my babies and to me, but it cuts at me like a knife. I want to get up, run to them, give them more hugs, more kisses, more of my love, but I know that it would only make things worse. Instead I listen to Bethany starting up the bus and pulling away with Paul’s kids and my own, and then I collapse to the floor and let myself go for a while.

I don’t know how long it has been since I fell to the floor, but I doubt it has been long. I’m being lifted by a pair of strong, steady hands, while a smaller pair tenderly strokes my hair. I’m set down on a couch, and I look up to see Sharon and Sarah, who hold me between them for a while, not saying anything, just being there for me.

We all jump as my phone starts beeping at us from Sarah’s pocket. Blushing, she pulls it out and hands it to me. I open it and turn off the alarm – Bethany must have programmed it, knowing that I would be having a hard time of it right now. Bless the little genius.

Standing up, I reach out for my friends and smile. “Ladies, it’s time for my last hurrah. Let’s go.”

I look down at the screen of my phone, which has a pic of my family from last Christmas, and I can’t help but smile. Well, to those who deal with my body in the end, I’ll just be another anonymous pile of meat, but right up to the end, or the end that will matter to me, I’ll have this phone, this picture, right with me, and that means that I’ll have a little bit of Meg left when I go. Thinking about it, that’s good enough for me.

[center]Part Twenty-Three – Final Engagements[/center]

Damn, we had it planned out so perfectly. Oh well, the best laid plans of mice and meat-girls…

Sarah and I are sitting in my car across the street from the emergency room entrance of a hospital not too far from the Processing Center. Wow, got the name right the first try, amazing. Anyway, this is where I’m supposed to be dumped off, after we do a few more things, but we need to do it unobserved, so that Sarah isn’t stopped, my car isn’t hunted for too soon, and so nobody gets too good a look at her. We aren’t worried about the security cameras; I can see that they are older than I am, so their quality has to suck.

So, the wrench in the works of our plans is the EMS crew standing around nearby with their thumbs up their asses and smokes in their mouths. They’ve been there for twenty minutes now, and if they don’t take off soon, we’re going to be running on overtime, which is not an option for me. Shit, don’t these people have lives to save, or at least extremely expensive taxi rides to give? And why the hell are they smoking out in the open like that – don’t they know the anti-smoking nuts are dumping accelerants on the smokers they catch nowadays?

Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not exactly looking forward to what’s going to happen when these idiots do clear out, but I’m even less enthused with the idea of what will happen to everyone that I love if things don’t work out here.

I know that I’m getting too worked up, so I distract myself by taking in the piece of eye candy sitting in the driver’s seat next to me. Before leaving with her son, Sharon helped Sarah and I to pick out the perfect outfits to wear together – another one of Sheryl and Cynthia’s matched sets, and not one to wear to the office. We’re talking little – and I do mean little – black dresses, the super tight kind with tiny straps, a very low back, and loads of exposed cleavage, that ends high enough on our thighs that you can clearly see the lacy garters that attach to our dark, shear stockings. Toss in the sexy little garter belt/thong combos, cute little button up sweaters that leave little to the imagination, and some killer black strappy heels, and I’m sure we would have lasted less than ten seconds back at the club before the mob would have thrown their consent rules to the four winds. Hell, just looking at Sarah right now makes me wish that we had time for one last fling. God that black works so nicely with that alabaster skin and long golden hair of hers.

There is one thing that Sarah is wearing that I’m not – a little pair of black gloves, stylish enough to look like they belong with the outfit, but more importantly, made of a material that should prevent her from leaving fingerprints anywhere. That’ll be important for making sure that our scapegoat is the only one the authorities suspect. Speaking of which, I had better get that part of things ready, since it looks like we’re going to be cutting it real close.

I turn around and grab the bag that is sitting on the back seat and pull out the barely thawed out hands of the late Stella Harrington. We’ve had them in the freezer since I brought them home from the club. Her head Bethany de-fleshed and tossed into Paul’s rubbish heap, where his wife and eldest daughter, or the bones that are all that remains of them, are residing. I know, that seems cold, for Paul to treat his loved one’s remains like that, but burial plots are just too expensive now to be using them for gnawed on bones. Besides, he has their heads; they’ll be preserved and put somewhere nice, I’m sure.

Setting said appendages on the dash, I dig into the bag and pull out the small box that contains Bob’s magic injection – Sharon, who is a nurse, preloaded the syringe and instructed Sarah in its ideal use just before she left, and we’ve wiped it free of prints, so there’s nothing for me to do with it other than to place it in Sarah’s lap. When I do, she looks down at the thing and recoils from it, like it’s a poisonous snake or something. Well, I suppose it sort of is, if you want to look at me as a Cleopatra that isn’t into snuffing out her handmaidens.

Sarah’s starting to tremble a bit as she stares from the box to me, and then back again. For all of her strength, the poor thing really isn’t ready for this. Bethany predicted Sarah would have a hard time dealing with this duty, and had tried to insist on doing it herself. I could see her logic, but I agreed with Sarah when she insisted on seeing this through to the end. After all, out of the two of them, I’m closer to Sarah, and she is my successor after all, but more than that, I need her here as my witness, so that she can someday tell my girls that I met my end well, bravely and without suffering. It’ll mean a lot for them to know that, when they are ready, and they’ll trust Sarah’s word on it – even if things go bad for me and she has to lie.

Taking Sarah’s nearest hand in one of mine, I use my other one to lightly caress the side of her sweet face. “Shhh, it’s okay sweety. Everything is going to be okay. Don’t think about what is about to happen. Don’t worry about that yet. Instead, I want you to recite back what I told you to do when you get across the border.”

Sarah visibly calms as she concentrates on more distant, theoretical concerns, which is the reason I brought them up, of course. “As soon as we cross, I find a phone and call your father. I tell him exactly what happened, and that your last request from him is to get new identities for all of us – me, Bethany, your girls and Paul’s kids. He’s to shelter all of us until the John and Paul can reach us.” She pauses, biting her lip. “Um, Meg, what if he says no? I mean, you said that he hasn’t talked to you since you refused to leave the country with him and your mother…and we’re asking an awful lot of him…”

I wave my free hand at her dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry about that. We may have had a falling out, but he still likes John – especially since my hubby has been pushing me to go this whole time. Better than that, he’s had the girls up there every summer for years now. He loves them like nothing else in this world – can’t say I blame him.” Sarah gives me a knowing smile – I know she already adores my kids herself, and she’s only known them a few days. “Believe me, after he gets done cursing me out for not listening to him and getting myself killed, he’ll be overjoyed to take in everybody, just to get have the girls there. Come to think of it, he’ll be pretty excited to have you and Bethany there as well – he’s always had an eye for young women with great potential.”

Now Sarah looks a little worried. “Um, Meg, he isn’t going to expect us to…well, you know…”

I snort loudly. “Fuck no! He wouldn’t even think of it. That man has been married to the same woman forever, and he’s never been with anyone else. Never will be, even if she dies well before he does. They’re old fashioned that way. No, what I meant was that he has a thing for mentoring young women, ones that he thinks can go really far. I think it’s part of his ego thing, since he gets to brag about them afterwards, the whole feather in his cap thing. And I’m sure that having important women owing him for their starts isn’t a problem for him either.”

Sarah blushes, her standard response whenever she’s even indirectly praised. I hope my father can break her of that habit, even if it is all sorts of cute. Well, if anyone can, it’ll be him. For all that I don’t get along with my father, I do have to admire the hell out of his dedication to creating new generations of strong, able women, to trying to stem the rising tide of misogyny in the world. It’s ironic, really, given his domineering attitude with his daughters, but then again, he always did insist on us not taking any guff from anyone other than him, which has served me well in life, I think.

Oops, there’s motion over at the hospital. Yep, the cancer stick boys are beating a retreat, most likely due to the supervisor that is yelling at them. Hah! Serves them right, hope they get docked in pay!

I try to keep humorous thoughts like that in my mind as I turn to Sarah, but my heart is starting to race and I feel a cold lump of fear in my stomach. Oh god, this is it! I try to keep my growing trepidation out of my voice. “Okay Sarah, looks like we’re in the clear. It’s now or never.”

Poor thing, she’s turning green. “Meg…I’d rather go for never…” She gives me a sickly smile to let me know that she’s mostly kidding. That’s my girl.

I give her a weak smile back, and then I make a last minute check of the little pockets of my sweater. Phone – check. I turn it on. ID – check – don’t want to be a Jane Doe, that’ll be a little counter productive. My appointment card for the Processing Center – got it – same reason as the ID. Finally I pull out Stella Harrington’s ID, which has been carefully torn to look like it was pulled off in a struggle, and I crumple it in my hand.

Last minute prep done, I look back up and see that Sarah has been busy as well, the box opened and the syringe in her hand. It’s shaking as she carefully pushes up a bit on the plunger, making sure there’s no air in the thing – wouldn’t do to have me arrive actually dead, because then they’ll notify the authorities right away. No, we need me as good as dead, with a strict timeline in which they can make full use of me, that way they’ll be too focused on pulling organs out of me, and won’t bother with notifications until they’re done. That should give the girls plenty of time to get the hell out of dodge.

Trying to keep from tearing up or hyperventilating in terror, I carefully give Sarah a hug. “I love you sweety. Tell everyone that I love them. Remember me.”

She whispers in my ear. “I will Meg, always.”

I pull back and look her in the eye, trying to keep control of a sudden desire to run, or fight, or just curl up in a ball. I don’t want to do this, I don’t! But…there are worse things than dying. I know it. “Sarah, don’t forget, you have to use those hands on the syringe before you drop it. And on the steering wheel right before you ditch the car, right?” I can’t believe how steady my voice is. How can it be, when I’m breaking into a sweat and my heart feels like it’s going to explode?

Before I even know what she’s doing, Sarah is striking with the speed of a snake, burying the needle of the syringe into the side of my neck with one hand while the other grabs hold of my head to keep me steady. Wow, I didn’t think she’d have it in her, but this is just what I wanted, to not know when it was coming. She smiles reassuringly, if a bit half-heartedly, as she depresses the plunger. I know she is, because I can feel the red liquid burning through my veins, heading for my nervous system in amounts far in excess of what Sheryl was given.

Suddenly I’m in sensory overload. I can feel everything with a clarity that is beyond anything I would have imagined. Just the touch of the seat against my legs is maddening. I clutch Stella’s ID tightly as the normally slight sting of the needle withdrawing becomes an agony that makes me grit my teeth to keep from howling in pain. I can feel tears streaming down my cheeks as I stare wide eyed at Sarah in absolute shock. Gods! What have we done!

I can feel myself shaking, like from a really, really bad caffeine attack, but my expanded tactile senses are already starting to die down, my nerves frying. I realize that I had stopped breathing, and I force myself to start taking big, deep breaths, trying to calm myself. We did it. It’s all over, finally. I’m dead. My body just doesn’t know it yet.

My head swims as my body falls back against the car door in slow motion – my limbs are starting to feel numb and uncoordinated already. Shit, this stuff is acting fast! Well, at least I’m no longer in any pain – those are the first nerves to get hit. I wonder if the window for the pleasure ones is still open, so I check, dropping a leaden hand on my crotch and giving it a little bit of a rub. BAM! Fireworks! Shit, instant orgasm, one that sets me writhing in my seat.

It’s chaining, my last cum, and I’m so lost in it that I barely hear Sarah gasp out an amazed ‘holy shit’, or notice the car starting to move. I do notice when it stops, and Sarah presses her yummy front against mine so that she can give me the most delightful kiss of my life. I know that’s mostly the drug’s doing, but I think it would have been pretty damn spectacular anyway.

Suddenly my pleasure peaks to a degree that I’m almost sure is going to kill me, and then it all goes dead. I feel nothing, absolutely nothing, as my body falls limp. Shit, I can’t even move my eyes! Sarah is holding my head so that I can see her. “Meg, I love you, and I’ll miss you. I’m going to let you go now. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of John and the girls, I’ll make them happy and keep them safe. I promise.” Wow, her voice seems loud to me – guess there’s some affect on my ears as well. I hear the door opening behind me, and then I see the world moving around me, until I’m staring at the sky. I hear the clatter of the syringe hitting the ground next to me, followed by Sarah’s voice once more. “Goodbye Meg. Godspeed.”

A moment later, I hear the door slam shut and my family car taking off, leaving me alone and helpless, waiting and hoping that someone notices me in time…

[center]Part Twenty-Four – Anonymous Cuts[/center]

I wish I could see the stars one more time. I’ve always loved to look at them. Throughout our marriage, my husband would often find me on the back porch staring up at the sky far into the night, and before him my parents had the same problem. I can’t help it, there’s just something so beautifully eternal about the night sky, even knowing that it is in fact quite the opposite. I’m pretty sure that it’s this obsession of mine that has made me a lifelong night owl. Hmmm, lifelong…never really thought about the end of that coming so soon. Weird.

Everything is more than a bit weird right now. I can’t move anything, can’t feel anything, but my other senses are amazingly acute, almost painfully so. The whole thing is surreal, with this complete feeling of separation from myself. I imagine that this is what it felt like for Tandy right after the blade severed her head from her body. I wish I could feel bad about that again, but my emotions seem to be detached as well. I’m not scared, or sad, or anything other than a little impatient for security to notice me before it’s too late. Well, a change of view would be nice too.

What I’m staring at is the featureless sky of a cloudless dawn. It’d be nice if I had a view of the pretty parts of the process, but then again, my eyes are so sensitive right now that it would probably blind me. Ah well, you can’t always get what you want.

But then, as the song goes, sometimes you get what you need. In this case, it comes in the form of footsteps running towards me from my left. Okay, I didn’t know my orientation before, so I’m going to have to assume that the emergency room is somewhere off in that direction.

The footsteps slow and I hear a voice, way too loud for my comfort, even though it seems like it’s whispering in shock. “Holy shit dude, is she dead?”

Another voice, this one even louder, making me wish that I could wince, or better yet, bitch slap the bastard. “No way, man. She’s breathing. Looks like an OD – see that syringe? Yeah, I can’t believe anybody bothers dumping these druggies when they’re bitches. Me, I’d sell this one’s meat after I fucked the life out of her.”

The first guy grunts. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s not like the docs bother with saving these chicks. This one’s totally fuckable too, what a waste. Think we could get away with taking her into a closet and sticking it to her? I’ve heard some great things about fucking girls when they’re snuffing it!” Oh, shit, no you idiot! Take me to the doctors, now!

Bachelor number two comes to my rescue. “Fuck that! No way am I losing my job for some slab of meat! Look at this – see, no reaction at all, her nerves are fried. She’s the ultimate dead fuck, not worth it.” Hmm, the guy must be doing something to me, or should I say my body, but the only clue I get is that my view is getting jostled a bit.

Number one grumbles. “Fine, fine. Just let me get a good feel of those tities before we go in.” More jostling, this guy must be roughing up my fun bags pretty bad. Asshole. “Shit dude, way better than my old lady. Maybe better than her little sister!”

I’m being lifted and placed on something that then moves me along smoothly – I’m on a gurney, most likely. My rescuers keep jabbering away, like they find nearly dead girls on their doorstep everyday. Then again, with the despair so many women are feeling nowadays, maybe they do.

Number two is having a laugh at his companion’s expense. “Like you’d know! That girl won’t get within a mile of you, calls you a pervert all the time. Well, she’s right though, you are a pervert!”

I see the outer doors to the emergency room go by. Good, we’re getting there. Number one seems a little irritated. “And she tells you all of this? She works in the cafeteria! Since when did you get so close to her, you’re way worse than I am!”

We’re entering the lobby proper now – I can tell because the light strips above me are giving me a blinding headache. Number two lowers his voice so that only his buddy and I can overhear. “Since we started fucking. Little cunt has no idea what she’s getting into. Heh, as a matter of fact, I’m taking little miss goody two shoes to the beach this weekend. Why don’t you come with? You can bring the ball and chain with you and we’ll have some real fun.”

I can hear the clacking of an old school keyboard nearing. We must be getting close to the reception area. That means I’m just a hop skip and a jump away from a doctor. Good, I’m really not liking my current company too much.

Speaking of which, the less experienced guy is hemming and hawing, so the other interrupts. “Look, tell you what. You fuck your old lady while I snuff her, you just said you wanted to try that, and then we’ll switch for little sis. Two for one deal, you can’t beat that!”

Whatever the response was, and I’m going to go out on a limb and go for something like a yes, is lost in the hubbub as the receptionist pages some doctor and I see some more doors go by, the sounds of the lobby and reception fading away. I’m assuming that I’m in ER proper now.

Bunches of people are rushing up now, and I watch the rate of ceiling passage increase. Well, I do until some asshole shines a bright ass light in my fucking eyes. Yow! Feels like he’s stabbing a knife into my brain!

Light-boy must be my doctor, because I can hear him talking about my pupils being dilated but responsive, and then some further commentary about my respiration and pulse and such. There’s a bit of back and forth with the not-so-dynamic duo, and then, just as I get my sight back a bit, I’m blinded again, this time by super bright ass overhead lights.

As much as this sucks, it’s a good thing, because it means that I was right – they’ve brought me straight into an operating room. I can hear cart wheels and clattering instruments, so it would seem they are going to get right into this.

There is a short pause while I hear the boys talking to the doc about my syringe, and then a command is given to forget about the anesthesia. Apparently my doctor knows what he’s looking at and thus knows that I can’t feel a damn thing, or more importantly, my body can’t tell my brain that there is trauma. Goodie.

Minutes pass in murmured comments, the sounds of swift movements, and the clattering of instruments. None of it means anything to me, so I drift into other thoughts for now. I’m thinking of what the others should be doing by now. Let’s see, Sarah should have arrived at the rendezvous point by now, and if she isn’t putting Stella’s hands all over the car, Bethany will make sure to do it herself. I just hope they keep my car out of sight of the van, and thus the children, while they’re at it. I’d hate for them to see something so gruesome at their ages, not to mention my girls won’t like the idea of seeing their beloved car (they named it Josephine years ago) left abandoned.

Sharon will be at home, hopefully catching a nap before her girls’ service. That’s basically her alibi – she was asleep, drugged up to stave off her grief. I doubt anyone noticed her coming or going – our houses are right next to a city park, no neighbors close enough to spy on us.

Meanwhile, John and Paul will be getting ready to leave whatever casino they spent the night at. They better not have blown too much money there, since they’ll be missing a lot of work to ‘search’ for their kids. Hopefully the cops buy into the ‘psycho-slave murders mother and takes off with kids to sell to veal eaters’ scenario we are painting for them. They should, it’s more common, at least in parts, than you would think. If they do, I doubt they’ll put too much effort into solving the case, and once they lose interest, the guys can decide to move away to start over, a move everyone will understand.

I just hope that things work out up north. It’s safer than here, with no mandatory processing and much stricter enforcement of consent and veal laws, but in the end, they still kill and eat women there, and both their government and society actively encourage volunteerism and game play. Well, at least if any of the girls eventually run afoul of those down sides, they won’t be sold as slaves by their own government. They’ll have rights, be allowed to further themselves and function as full citizens. That’s nothing to sneeze at.

Man, I’m getting tired. The lights and sounds are dimming, and I can smell blood and burning flesh. Weird. It’s hard to think, but I’m trying to stay awake. Not sure why though.

Somebody just bumped the table, jostling my head so that I’m looking to the left. There’s a big honkin’ cart with coolers on it, and people are rushing back and forth, placing things in them. I have to think for a minute to figure out what they are doing – things feel a bit confusing for some reason. I’m pretty sure that over there was a liver, next some kidneys. Wow, neat…wonder where those are coming from.

Oh, I’m seeing sparks, and the room is in a red tunnel. Someone is holding a heart in front of me, and it somehow makes me feel sad. The tunnel is shrinking, going dark, but I get a glimpse of a hand coming towards my face with something metal and sharp, and I’m getting uneasy about all of this and maybe scared because I can’t see, can’t hear, can’t smell, can’t….oh!

[center][color=blue:1l1sku6l]Finis[/color:1l1sku6l][/center]

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[quote author=lens link=topic=1561.msg6225#msg6225 date=1300000261] Shadowkeeper: Very well written and enjoyable. It almost gives me déjà vu. lens [/quote]

Thanks lens! And don’t worry about that déjà vu, it just means they reset the Matrix.