Posted by Sawney Beane on July 24, 2007 at 22:09:02:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #120
MEATMARKET
by Sawney Beane
22 January 2005
3,488 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: Another sort of place to buy and sell the best meat in the world. This one turned out a bit sadder than I had intended, but I like it.
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"So, uh, what do I do now?" Sarah asked, a nervous tinge in her voice.
The matronly attendant who had led her down the many aisles to this small room laughed not entirely good-naturedly. "Whatever it takes to make the sale, honey, whatever it takes!"
"Well, ah, what do I do?"
"Honey, it don't make any difference to me. It's a hundred a day for the room plus ten percent of your take; aside from that it's up to you."
"Uh, ok, but how do I..."
"Look, when you find your Prince Charming, just push that red button, and someone will come and help you take care of the paperwork. That's all there is to it."
Sarah glanced at the menacing big red button mounted where a doorbell should be but inside the room. The button was protected by a hinged clear plastic cover to prevent false alarms. Sarah thought in the back of her mind that it really didn't seem all that simple as the attendant, still chuckling ominously, left the room and walked down the wide aisle, abandoning Sarah to her own devices.
Sarah looked uncertainly around her new domain. It was a small room furnished only with a bed in back and a small table and chair in front next to a wide window framed by a red curtain. The window looked out onto one of the many aisles of the meatmarket. From her window, Sarah could see three other windows across the way, all occupied by nude girls gyrating to an alluring silent rhythm. This gave Sarah some hints as to what was expected of her.
She began to undress, taking off her shirt, jeans, and shoes and placing them neatly in a corner of the small room. She had come with a bikini under her clothes thinking that this would be appropriate, but all of the girls she had passed in the windows on the way here had been nude, so she reluctantly removed the skimpy strings from her body, leaving herself quite naked.
Her first instinct was to cover her genitals and breasts with her arms, as she stood nervously in the window, her body trembling in fear and embarrassment. But she quickly realized that this defeated the purpose somewhat, so by force of will she held her arms at her sides. She tried to move her body and dance a little bit, but it made her feel self-conscious, so she could not keep it up for long. She just looked out and watched the aisle.
After a few minutes, she returned to her jeans and unfolded the ornate certificate she had obtained the week before. It was her appraisal. She had paid a gruff man handsomely to humiliate her by poking, prodding, and making rude comments about her body as she stood naked in the back room of his store. The number he had printed on her certificate was substantial, which was a good thing given the ordeal she had undergone to receive it.
The number was big enough to pay a good portion of her younger brother's university education or, perhaps more likely knowing him, quite an enormous quantity of alcohol. Somehow at this point she was having a strange difficulty caring which purpose her named beneficiary put her earnings to. The important thing is that the appraisal certificate was the first time she could remember anyone telling her she had any value at all, even if, strictly speaking, it was not precisely her that had the value so much as it was her corpse.
She placed the certificate carefully on the centre of the small table and resumed her vigil before the window. The girls across the aisle were still gyrating wildly, and Sarah found a small radio on the floor next to the window and switched it on. The poor tinny music gave her something to dance to, but she still found that the movements her body wanted to make were mostly uncoordinated trembling, and it took all of her concentration to keep her hands away from her breasts and genitals. The music could not drown out the loud moaning that was coming through the wall, an indication that the busty blonde in the adjoining cell was in the midst of a particularly vigorous product demonstration.
Outside, well-dressed men and women were beginning to wander by. Some of them hurried by her window with barely a glance while others stared at her intently for several seconds before meandering on down the line to the next window. Each glance burned into her mind making her feel small and vulnerable. But the piece of paper on the table affirmed her value and kept her spirits up marginally.
Still, she was sorely tempted many times to hastily put her clothes back on and run back to the front counter, paying her hundred for the day's room rent and running home and admitting her failure. Something kept her here, frozen like a deer in the headlights, the gaze of hungry men and women burning into her skin.
Finally, after several hours of this torment, a man sauntered to her window and looked at her in a slightly different way. He paused thoughtfully, and the gentle smile on his face was less coldly calculating than most of her previous admirers. He was still there for a reason, but the contrast was a relief to her. After a moment, he stepped to the small door and knocked.
She opened it tentatively a crack and smiled at him as best she could, but she was speechless, remembering that she had no idea how to proceed beyond this point.
"First day?" he said good naturedly.
"Y..yes," she stammered. "Is it so obvious."
"Yes, it is, dear," he said and smiled more broadly.
"Sorry," she said glumly staring at the doorstep.
"It's ok, I like first timers," he said.
"You do?" she asked. "Why?"
"I'll tell you, but do you think I could come in first?"
"Oh," her mind reeled and she opened the door for him. "I'm so sorry."
"It's ok," he said. "No doubt this is a stressful day for you; I understand."
He pulled the heavy red curtain closed across the window; and, for the first time in several hours, Sarah felt the tide of hostile gazes disappear. She could focus on looking into the eyes of this strange man who spoke to her so politely.
He was tall and handsome, probably twice her age, but still youthful in his bearing. He looked at her with a kindly gaze, but he was also purposeful. He wore a gold wedding ring, but he did not seem self-conscious about it. She knew it did not matter; that his wife had probably sent him here. She knew why he was here, but his charisma drew her to like him nonetheless.
"There are two kinds of girls in this place," he said thoughtfully. "Those that last a day or two and those that stay for weeks."
"Oh," she said.
"I prefer the former because a girl that's been here for a while gets tough. The new ones are sweeter, more human; a girl's been here a while, she gets angry and bitter, not at all desirable."
"I see," said Sarah, trying to understand.
"That girl across the way there," he said pointing to the gyrating blonde with large swaying breasts and long meaty legs. "She's been there three weeks or more, and probably will stay a while longer."
"Why?" asked Sarah, "She's beautiful and so sexy!"
"Yes, she is, but girls are expensive, and you have to be top quality to attract a buyer right away."
"Oh," said Sarah uncertain of where this conversation was going.
"Look here," he said touching her bare thigh and directing her to put her foot on the chair. He massaged her thigh and pinched it gently. "See that," he said, "this is good meat, soft and tender but not too fatty. Not every girl here had this kind of quality."
Sarah had difficulty processing the fact that the meat he was discussing happened to be a part of her own body. "Thanks," she said with soft sincerity. Somehow this gentle evaluation seemed less objectionable than the coldly impersonal examination at her recent appraisal session.
"Yes, girls that go quickly go for one of two reasons," he proclaimed. "Either they are so overwhelmingly perfect that they have to be snapped up at once or they have a realistic understanding of their own worth."
"Oh, yes," said Sarah, picking up the appraisal and handing it to him.
He looked it over thoughtfully. "That's a good valuation, Sarah," he said, reading her name from the top of the certificate. "A lot of girls though think that just because they get a number on a piece of paper that someone's going to pay that for them. They get hung up on that number and won't accept anything else, so they stay here for weeks. Reality is lots of girls can't get much more than half their appraised value, sometimes not even that, especially with the economy as it is."
He sounded as if he was talking to himself, not really to Sarah, and she felt her heart sink with every word of this little speech. Apparently her valuable body would not get her brother as many courses, or pints as the case may be, as she had hoped.
"I'm James, by the way," he commented, seeming to remember she was there as he replaced the paper on the table and began to touch her body gently. She knew he was evaluating her body, but he caressed her like a lover, and his motives could not keep it from being a pleasurable experience.
"I like what I see," he remarked softly, "You're a valuable girl, Sarah. How old are you?"
"Twenty-two," she replied simply.
"An excellent vintage, to be sure," he said quietly to himself. "Well, I think I'd like to make this your last day here," he smiled at her. "Shall we?" he said pointing to the bed.
"Oh, of course," she replied, slightly panicked in her lack of preparation. But she knew the customers wanted to test the merchandise before investing, and this handsome man in her cell made her like the idea. After all, it was far more pleasant than the real purpose of her being here.
He undressed himself quickly, and they climbed into the bed together. She wrapped her soft body in an embrace around his larger muscular chest and felt the comforting warmth of his body flowing into hers.
He began by kissing her gently and reassuringly on the forehead, then he kissed her cheeks and nibbled on an ear for a moment before kissing her lips, a long romantic deeply probing kiss. She felt that they were long-time lovers, not recent business acquaintances. She relaxed in his arms and gave herself to him.
After the long kiss, he kissed and licked his way down her slender throat and across her shoulders. He was, appropriately enough, a very orally-inclined lover, and she enjoyed the tingle of his lips on her skin. Soon he was devouring her breasts, gently but firmly, his tongue expertly provoking her nipples and making her moan a little bit. His hands under her back massaged her shoulder blades, and his lips voyaged down her trembling belly, detoured along her inner thighs and calves and finally returned to her centre.
His invasive tongue began to create the tiny tingling fireworks in her, and his teeth chewed her flesh gently. As he ate her pussy greedily, she knew she would be his, no matter what price he offered her; she would leave this room with him. And then her mind exploded and nothing else in the world made any difference at all.
Quite some time later, as she lay panting on her back, he returned and, having discretely slipped on a condom (not all men enjoyed eating polluted meat), he thrust another part of himself deep into her innermost being. She felt herself thus impaled on his manhood, knowing it was her last, knowing it was the best outcome she could have hoped for, knowing this lover would kill her in the end. It mattered not at all. Her mind was ablaze with the sensations exploding inside her.
When it finally ended, he rolled over on his back, and she curled her body around his trying to contact his skin with as much surface area of her own as possible. She wanted to forget all her troubles and be his in whatever way he wanted her. She would not be a desperate lonely girl gyrating for weeks in a window waiting for the perfect man. She had found her Prince Charming, and even if her brother had to make due with two pints and a plowman's, she was going to be his.
A long while later, he stood up and dressed himself. She watched timidly from the bed as he retrieved her certificate from the table. He looked thoughtfully for a moment at her appraisal again before looking at her with a raised eyebrow.
"I'd like to make you an offer," he said softly.
"Yes," she felt still out of breath, and she braced herself for the worst.
And then he did something amazing. He named a figure. He named a figure that was ten percent higher than the number on her appraisal certificate. "Will that be enough, Sarah?"
"Y...yes," she stammered, "but it is higher than my appraisal!"
"Well, dear, I thought you should get your full value after the market takes its cut," he said with a smile. "You're a bargain at that price anyway," he added. "Your appraiser must have been an incompetent."
"Thank you," she smiled, almost giddy with excitement. And yet there was a small terror beginning to build in the back of her mind. She knew what this meant.
"Shall we?" he asked, flipping open the plastic shield and poising his hand over the red button.
"Yes," she said, "please."
James pressed the button, and sat next to her on the bed. She did not bother to dress but sat trembling in his arms waiting for destiny.
Ten minutes later, a white-coated attendant arrived to assist them. Sarah shrank into James' side as this new strange man arrived and leered at her in an unfriendly way. She tried to hide her vulnerability behind his strong protective body. The attendant held out the paperwork and wrote in James' account number and credit information. He seemed surprised at the figure James authorized in payment of her services. And then she and James each had to sign the form. And as simply as that, she became his property. Strangely, she did not miss the freedom she had just signed away.
Her residence in the small display cell was at an end. She and James and the attendant walked out into the aisle. Her clothing was abandoned, no longer needed, in the small room. As they walked down the aisle, the customers gave her admiring leers, and the girls in the windows stopped gyrating for a moment to smile and wave their hands in fatalistic feminine solidarity. The march was long and agonizing, but Sarah stayed close to James and felt his protective arm across her shoulders.
The attendant led them into an alarming room. This institutional white room with pools of red on the floor in various places and busy men with machines dotted around. It was a noisy busy threatening place, and Sarah shrank further into her James' flank.
"How do you want her?" asked the attendant as they entered the room.
"I need her in parts to go," James said in a tone that she surprisingly did not find at all unpleasant.
The attendant led them over to one group of men with a machine. A panicked blonde was strapped down to it. Her neck was clamped into the machine. Three white-gowned workers fiddled with various parts of her body, and a man in a suit stood by with impatiently crossed arms.
One of the workers shouted over to James, "Hey, Mr. Watson! Good to see you again, sir. That sure is a beauty you got there. We'll be ready to do her in just a few minutes."
Before her increasingly terrified eyes, Sarah saw the terrible blade, which was not gravity powered like a guillotine but rather like a large paper cutter, attached at a hinge on one side and a handle on the other. One of the attendants, pressed with the weight of his body on the handle, and the blade came down shearing through the vulnerable neck of the blonde who shrieked in fear for the split second between the time the blade touched the back of her neck and the time it severed her trachea.
Sarah shrank even further into James as the blonde head tumbled down toward a waiting basket but bounced on the edge and hit the floor with a sickening thud and rolled towards Sarah's feet. The decapitated blonde stared with dead eyes up at James and Sarah with a look of fear and surprise. One of the attendants quickly scooped it up and deposited it in a cubical plastic box. The two other workers had hung the blonde's carcass upside down from hooks piercing its ankles and were efficiently draining, decimating, and destroying the former beauty.
Sarah could see the largish styrofoam boxes lined in a row nearby. In each box, the individually wrapped pieces of a former girl were packed in the most space-efficient way, including the boxes containing severed heads, packages of cleaned entrails, and the jugs filled with blood drained from the bodies. Sarah shivered and wondered which of the empty boxes would become her coffin.
All too soon, the blonde was nothing more than a memory, one more splotch of blood on the death machine, and a pile of meat packed in a styrofoam coffin. Sarah knew her life was now counted in seconds or at best minutes, but clearly not very many of them.
James sensed her growing discomfort and spoke to her with hypnotic soothing words. "Don't worry, Sarah, it's quick and painless." Sarah tried to take comfort in this, but the attendant was coming for her, and her body wouldn't stop shivering. James embraced her tightly and sincerely. "Thank you, Sarah," he said, as she felt her body go numb and reluctantly allowed the attendant to pull her by the arm over to the horrible death machine.
She knelt as instructed at one end, and she felt a broad hand pressing down on her shoulder blades until her belly and breasts were smashed against the cold steel of the platform. Her slender neck was resting comfortably in the wooden cradle, and the second attendant slipped the top half of the cradle down over her shoulders to immobilize her permanently.
The panic and fear was overwhelming now, as she stared down at the bloody basket below her. The men brushed her dark hair away from her neck and she stared her doom in the eye. She felt her body tense and tremble. She could feel every sensation in every inch of her body, but she knew that seconds after her head was removed, the rest of her would be upside down and torn asunder. She started to pass out, which would have been a mercy, but she could not quite achieve unconsciousness.
James had put on a floor-length white coat and stepped near her head. He knelt down beside her and kissed her gently on her perspiring forehead. She thought it strange that he was wrapping his fingers into the thick strands of hair on the back of her head until she felt the bloody cold steel touch the skin of her neck.
"Ready?" someone said.
Sarah could not answer, but James stared deep into her frightened eyes and said clearly and calmly, "Yes." Sarah realized that the attendant had been talking to him and not to her, and her speechlessness had saved her one final embarrassment. But by now steel was tearing through vulnerable flesh, and with nothing more than a sharp sting and a loud noise, she left her body in the hands of the brutally efficient attendants, and James held her severed head close to his own.
Sarah stared with wide terrified eyes into James' reassuring gaze as the blood began to drip from her violated neck down the front of his white coat. He kissed her immediately and passionately, thrusting his tongue into her stunned mouth, devouring her as the sparkling tingling sensation overwhelmed her. She found his attention comforting and soothing, but she did not survive this final kiss. Before it had really begun in earnest and only seconds after her body had abandoned her, the darkness enshrouded her consciousness, and she felt no more.