Posted by Sawney Beane on September 16, 2007 at 22:28:21:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #155
FREEDOM
by Sawney Beane
25 July 2004; 9 September 2007
1,253 words
DISTRIBUTION NOTICE and DISCLAIMER: Sawney Beane requests that any distribution of this work of fiction remain within the realm of social responsibility. This story is suitable neither for minors nor for the seeming majority of adults who have difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality. It is pure fantasy, which means that, for whatever reason, someone has found it interesting to think about the events depicted herein. It does not in any way mean that the author would like to see this fantasy become reality, so if you are the type of person who might be swayed into doing something irrational by reading a work of fiction, the author respectfully requests that you decline to read further.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sawney Beane, originally a native of Edinburgh, lived for twenty-five years in a cave on the coast of County Galloway, subsisting on the flesh of unfortunate travellers, roughly a thousand of them all told. He and his wife raised a large family of eight sons, six daughters, eighteen grandsons, and fourteen granddaughters. Eventually, the family was captured, and the whole lot was brutally and unjustifiably tortured and executed without trial. Since his death in the early 17th century, Beane has reformed his ways and now confines his atrocities to his literary endeavours.
WARNING: This story contains scenes of consensual snuff and gynophagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Started as SB118, but got deferred a long time. Trying out another reason a woman would allow herself to be consumed. Not really all that plausible in the end I think as I am somewhat pushing the limits of what a modern-day cult of stoics could really make one do.
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When the door opened, the four university-aged guys inside smiled at the sight of the petite delivery girl and the statuesque blonde standing next to her wearing nothing but a leather collar attached to a slender silver chain held symbolically by the smaller girl. That statuesque blonde happened to be me.
I wasn't disappointed-of course I wasn't-but my first thought on entering the room was "Someone's father bought his boy a great present." But they looked clean cut and excited to see me, so probably things were going to work out very well, although I would not be dismayed if they didn't.
Six months ago, I was a different person. I was a reasonably successful twenty-seven year old assistant editor of a nationally recognizable monthly publication. I had a nice car and a great condo with an excellent view of the city. I was popular with many female friends and no lack of male admirers. I really did have it all. And I was looking forward to the day when I might seriously consider one of the frequent marriage proposals I received and settle down to raise a family. I was looking forward to it, but I was also dreading it.
The problem was, despite my success, or perhaps because of it, I was feeling trapped. I was feeling the weight of responsibility crushing me. I knew that I would never be free. Life would always be one thing to worry about after another, and there would be no end to it until there really was an end to it.
That was when I was introduced to The Program. A friend of mine had joined shortly before and was enthusiastically proselytising for it. I, like most people, believed it was just another cult so wasn't particularly interested at first, but she persisted. And finally I attended an informational session with her.
And something about it clicked with me. The basic concept of The Program is that the only way to be free is to remove all desire from your life. If you don't care whether or not something happens, you can't be disappointed. And more importantly, you are free not to be concerned about it. I wanted to be free, so I was immediately hooked.
Of course, it is not easy to remove desire from life. Some people try to follow the Program while living a fairly normal life, but this is very difficult. The best way is total immersion. You turn yourself over to The Program, body and soul, and, if you observe proper discipline, freedom can be attained. For me, it took three months to feel really comfortable in the Program, and now, although I cannot claim to be a perfect adherent, I feel I can deal with just about anything without deviating too far from my principles.
But The Program does require financial support to keep it going and spreading the word to ever more potential beneficiaries of its glorious epiphany. The main issue that the Founders discovered in promoting their wisdom was that successful adherents, by cultivating the art of not caring, tend to earn less money to support The Program's aims. And so, several years ago, apparently, The Program began, with the cooperation of its members, supplying certain restaurants with comestible employees.
It was a job that a Program adherent had a natural gift for, and, insofar as it is not contradictory with our basic principles, we can take satisfaction in helping The Program help many more people. Of course, there are detractors who accurse Program leaders of simply using The Program as a recruiting technique for livestock. And some go so far as to accuse our leaders of having financial interests in the restaurants we cooperate with. Of course, all of this is absurd and there are perfectly rational explanations for all of it. I just couldn't be bothered to really try to understand them.
So there I was. The delivery girl received her payment and unhooked her chain from my collar and departed. The four friends introduced themselves to me as Rick, Nick, Mick, and Dick. I couldn't really tell them apart, but it didn't matter that much. I think Rick was the one with the rich daddy, but they all behaved similarly, so it was difficult to tell. I told them my name was Marcia, and they nervously led me into the flat.
One of them, Rick perhaps, asked if I minded if they indulged in a practice they referred to in their schoolboy argot as "tenderising". They giggled like schoolgirls as they said the word. I told them that it was within their rights to do anything they wanted with me because I was their property. This seemed to concern them, naïve children that they were.
"But will you enjoy it?" Mick asked.
"I will accept whatever you wish to do with me," I tried to explain. My indifference to the afternoon's program seemed a stumbling block in our communication. They asked around this question one after another and never seemed to get the answer they really wanted. But at some point their natural desires overcame their delicate sensibilities, and Rick led me into the bedroom.
He stripped shyly and climbed into bed next to me. This was the first of four almost identical half-hour sessions. They took turns one after another, and each one fucked me like they were virgins. They probably were, who knows. None of them seemed to be especially Don Juan types, and they were probably first or second year students. It wasn't especially passionate or fulfilling, but as a Program adherent, these notions have almost fled my mind, so I remained satisfied with my day.
Then they asked me to take a shower to clean up a bit. I think they were somewhat revolted by the idea of leaving their friends' semen in their dinner. But I sanitized myself for their protection.
Then they led me into the small kitchen. In the corner of the room, was a small portable guillotine. It was a very high-end model, and I was again stricken with the idea of a rich father underwriting this venture. They left me in the kitchen and adjourned as a group into the other room. I'm not sure what they're discussing, but I imagine they are not sure how to bring about my demise. Surely they'll figure it out eventually, but I'll wait patiently until they return.
I noticed that their guillotine is one with some additional special features. It has a special cut plate so that, in addition to beheadings, you can use it to slice meat. That way they can take my thighs off and make them into perfect evenly cut steaks. Sure beats hacking the carcass apart with a meat cleaver. I admired this device for a moment and took a bit of pleasure in the prospect of being processed with so fine a device. Then I remembered my training and scolded myself for momentarily caring.
And so I await my fate with well-studied indifference. I have to admit that The Program is truly amazing. Without it I could never remain so calm in such a situation. I would be completely terrified now. A shiver goes up my spine just thinking about it along with a twinge of pity for the multitudes whose lives have not yet been so improved by the power of The Program. Thank God for The Program. Without it I could never have obtained this level of freedom.