Posted by Sawney Beane on July 07, 2007 at 03:13:14:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #111
RENT TO OWN
by Sawney Beane
4-6 June 2004
2,955 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 snuff and consensual gynophagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: OK, I saw the girls. I saw the staircase and the little rooms behind them through the glass. I am not entirely sure I have accurately captured everything that goes on in there, but maybe it's plausible?
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"You know what I heard," Taz said to her friend without taking her eyes off of the red-lit glass in front of her.
"What?" asked Wen, adjusting her white lacy bustier and staring out with pouty allure.
"I heard that after they snuff you, you can still feel the knives cutting you up." She tapped gently on the glass to get the attention of a passing Japanese businessman but to no avail.
"How can that be?" asked Wen incredulously.
"You still feel it."
"No way!"
"Sure, it's like when they amputate a man's leg and he can still feel his foot," explained Taz patiently, tugging at the strap of her tiny floral print bikini to more favourably display her small breasts.
"That can't be," denied Wen, "If they amputate your whole life, how can you feel anything." She was so lost in considering this that she forgot to duck into the shadows when an inconsiderate tourist snapped her picture through the glass.
"That's what they say," insisted Taz, a bit miffed that her friend would doubt her word. A passing couple were staring in at her. The man's wolfish stare contrasted markedly with the pitying sympathy on his female companion's face. Taz sneered inwardly at both of them but maintained her coy expression. He was a wolf like all the rest but even worse - a wolf on a leash. And the woman was not as different from Taz and Wen as she would like to think.
Wen was sceptical, but, although she was nearly five years older than her 23 year old friend, Taz had worked the windows for nearly four years, which made Wen, with a mere one year's experience, seem the naïve novice. Much of what Taz said was unbelievable, but it almost always turned out to be true, so Wen did not dare to further challenge her.
Instead, Wen concentrated her efforts on making herself look appealing. It was one of those annoying nights, however, when the streets were crowded with tour groups and couples but precious few actual paying customers.
After several minutes of sultry gazes and practiced alluring poses, Wen sighed and resumed the conversation. "Doesn't it frighten you?"
"What?" asked Taz as she executed a particularly difficult combination of hair toss and hip gyration for the benefit of an admiring German man in a heavy overcoat.
Wen did not answer but pointed subtly at the staircase leading up from the space between their booths. Most of the girls called it the "Stairway to Heaven".
Taz smiled mischievously. "Why should that be frightening? It's your ticket out of here."
"Yes," Wen said, "but you know...I mean...what they do to you up there...."
"Well, it's what you're here for, isn't it? If you don't want to go up those stairs, you shouldn't be here." A passing bachelor party looked promising but moved on after drinking in a taste of Taz and Wen's exotic Asian looks.
"Well..."
"Look, Wen, the fuck money is great, but if your family really needs your help, you have to go upstairs."
"I suppose you're right," sighed Wen, "but it makes me nervous to think about it." She missed an opportunity to flash a winning smile at a man in an expensive suit looking in at her.
"Well, if it's any consolation, they probably won't take you," said Taz. "Guys think we're fine for sex, but on the rare occasions when one of them can afford to take a girl upstairs, they always choose a big-breasted blonde."
Wen wasn't sure if this was good news or bad news, but Taz's four-year tenure gave credence to her words. Her small golden-brown body with well-formed small breasts and a flat tummy and tiny arse were plenty alluring in her tiny bikini. The small scorpion tattooed above her left breast and silver ring in her pierced bellybutton also attracted attention. But no one had taken Taz up yet.
Just as this conversation ground to an awkward halt, Taz opened her door a bit to speak to an inebriated nominee from a rowdy group of Scottish collegians. She named her price and invited him in. He balked a bit at the figure but eventually took her hand and lurched into the small glass room. Taz pulled the heavy red curtain closed and led her client into the small bedroom next to the foot of the staircase and closed the door.
Alone in the crimson window, Wen looked for her own client to draw in. A few minutes later, a familiar face came into view. A man with serious dark eyes stood between two cars parked near the edge of the canal and stared at her from across the one lane street for a while. She batted her eyes and thrust her hips and mouthed the words "I Want You" for him. He approached the window but did not immediately accept her imploring invitation to step inside with her.
He had visited her three times before, but each time she'd had to coax him in like a scared virgin. She was amused by his timidity, but it was also a little bit tiresome. "Come in, I make you happy," she purred in English. "Yes, you come in now."
He laughed nervously and looked around. She smiled sweetly and cocked her head coyly. Why did he make her work so hard for it?
"Hello, Wen, how are you?" he said.
"I'm good; you come in now?"
"I don't know...."
She sighed wearily, frustrated. "You come in. I tired standing up."
He laughed and smiled broadly for the first time, accepting her hand and slipping with her behind the glass door and red curtain.
Inside in the small bedroom, he sat on the side of the bed, and she slipped into his arms. She liked him, albeit in a mercenary way. He was gentle and, much more importantly, easy to coax into giving her more money to buy extra time with her. She started to unbutton his shirt, and he smiled, encircling her small body in his strong arms.
When she prompted him, he handed her enough cash for half an hour. She undressed him and slipped out of her lacy lingerie. He held her small soft body close to his, almost desperately. It was a little bit uncomfortable for her, almost as if he wanted to press her into himself, but she was a professional and did not complain.
She placed him on his back on the bed and with the efficiency of long experience mounted him. He lay staring up at her with a slight mirthless smile on his face, moving very little, allowing her to exhibit her well-practiced performance to the maximum. She did a creditable impression of a passionate lover, which was suitably noisy and lasted for quite a long time.
When it was finished, she slid herself next to him, and he touched, hugged, and kissed her. When his time was up, she delicately asked him to stay longer. Unusually, today she didn't have to ask more than once. They paused to conduct another cash transaction and returned to lie side by side on the bed.
Normally, she enjoyed the overtime periods with him. He didn't make her do anything much, and they just lay together and talked. Normally he asked personal questions about her, which she answered with a mixture of truth and harmless fiction. She didn't mind. It was relaxing really, far less work and just as well paying as four fifteen minute cheapskates.
But today he was unusually quiet. He smiled, but didn't ask her anything and said very little altogether. He kissed her face and shoulders and clung to her even more desperately than usual. His face showed a serious melancholy that she was used to from him.
"Why you sad?" she asked between kisses. "I not make you happy?"
"No, Wen, you're wonderful," he said soothingly. "You're always wonderful."
"Then why?"
"Because it's my last time with you," he said softly.
Wen was thunderstruck. "Why?" she moaned. What had she done wrong? She didn't have any real personal feelings for him, but he was a very worthwhile customer, and she would hate to lose him. "You don't like me anymore?"
"No, Wen, I like you very much," he said. "Too much in fact."
"I like you too," she said with her best smile. "Why this last time?"
He smiled ruefully but didn't speak for a minute or so. "Because, Wen, I am going to take you upstairs today."
The world for Wen lurched dramatically. Everything was suddenly different. Her previous shock was nothing compared to this. Suddenly she was faced with the knowledge that she had serviced her last customer, that she would never see the light of day again, that she was on the verge of death. It tended to change her outlook.
Furthermore, although she was a novice compared to her friend Taz, Wen was an experienced sexual mercenary. In her year of experience, she had learned how to be psychologically in control of the entire situation, so she always had the advantage over the customers. Now, she was in unfamiliar territory. None of the girls ever went upstairs more than once, so she was suddenly at a loss.
"Upstairs?" she whispered.
"Yes, Wen," he said softly. "If you want me to."
"Yes, yes, of course I go upstairs with you," she said quickly, automatically.
She was even uncertain how she should feel about him now. Did this make him even more contemptible than the other wolves she watched through her window and shared her rented bed with or did this make him especially dear to her?
He smiled gently. "Thank you, Wen, I want you to be with me always."
The rest of the time passed quickly with Wen feeling secure in his strong embrace, allowing herself to feel more than was normally advisable in this room. She even forgot to get him started dressing himself until the time had been expired for more than ten minutes. Suddenly, her sense of urgency had disappeared.
Before they left the room for the last time, he dressed, but she did not bother, wandering with him out into the hall in only her sandals. Taz looked surprised to see her nude. In the last hour, Taz had serviced her inebriated Scotsman and had performed her act largely unappreciated for two other impotent drunks, which made her look a little bit tired and irritated.
"Wen?" she asked uncertainly, as if unsure whether she should point out to her friend that she had forgotten her clothes.
"We're going upstairs now," Wen said softly.
"Upstairs?" Taz whispered in reverent awe.
"Yes, Taz," said Wen. "Goodbye."
Taz hugged Wen encouragingly. "Don't worry, Wen, just think of your family."
Wen smiled weakly but did not reply. She walked up the stairs slowly but steadily with her client following close behind her.
The stairs led up to the second floor and into the rabbit-warren network of corridors that connected every rental room in the district to the central culinary facility. Wen and her companion walked to her doom hand in hand.
They entered the check in area just as a busty blonde was being lifted off the impaling rack and carried into the next room. The impaled girl was tall with shapely meaty thighs, large breasts, and a trim belly. Her long blonde hair was tied in a ponytail, and her arms and legs were tied to the steel spit that ran through her body from vagina to mouth. A variety of elaborate but tasteful tribal tattoos decorated her lower back. The ends of the spit were carried by two white-coated attendants, and an especially wolfish man stood looking on at his dearly purchased feast. Wen shuddered at the sight.
Two attractive girls behind the check-in counter greeted Wen with matching smiles.
"Two in one night!" said the brunette.
"That's pretty good for a Wednesday," commented the blonde.
The brunette dealt with Wen's client while the blonde attended to Wen. The brunette processed his credit card and ensured that he was able to pay the hefty fee that would make Wen his own.
Meanwhile, the blonde asked Wen for her licence number and pulled up her records which showed her personal information, latest test results, and tax data. "If you'll just verify that everything here is correct," said the blonde to Wen without specifying the other half of the conditional statement. "You'll especially want to ensure that we have the correct beneficiary information on file," she said with an ingratiating smile. "That will be important I think." She busied herself organizing the consent forms for Wen to sign.
Once all of the formalities were through, Wen's client was considerably poorer, and Wen no longer existed as an official person, but her family's status had improved markedly. They were introduced to Bill and Mark, the two clinically dressed attendants who had been carrying the blonde into the next room.
"Good choice, mate," winked Bill at Wen's new owner as he eyed Wen's fragile body. "She's small but she'll be excellent quality."
Mark was less insensitive to Wen's existence and helped her to lie on her back on the metal table. He placed the large square frame around her small body and secured her wrists and ankles to the straps attached to the corners of the frame. Bill helped to stretch them taut so that she was spread helpless but not uncomfortably inside the frame. Her mouth felt dry, and her body trembled, but she was determined to get through this without a major breakdown. It was for a good cause after all, and had developed a rather more sentimental attitude towards her client over the last hour or so.
The two attendants lifted Wen's frame to a vertical position so that she was hanging spread-eagled in the centre of the room. They used a hose filled with warm water to comfortably cleanse her doomed skin. She closed her eyes and enjoyed this final bath as all of her sins were washed away down the floor drain. Once it was done, all that was left of her was the pure clean Wen, saviour of her desperate family. She saw the admiration in her client's eyes and longed to please him. The end of time was drawing near.
Bill asked the client if he wanted her to be ended quickly or slowly. Wen's client said he would defer to her wishes. When they asked her, she asked them to get it over as quickly as they could.
Mark injected the contents of two hypodermic needles into her lower belly and the back of her jaw. Soon her tongue felt swollen and furry from the anaesthetic. She gasped as she saw the steel spit rising through the hole in the floor. Bill guided it through the hole in the bottom end of her frame and slid it up towards her numb vagina. The anaesthetic prevented her from feeling the lubricated tip of the shaft, the last of many cold rods to enter her, as it slid easily into her main source of income.
Mark took up a position behind her and whispered in her ear. "We're going to do it in just a second. Just relax, and it will be over before you know it."
Her client stepped closer to her and placed a reassuring hand on her trembling shoulder. She looked into his misty dark eyes and knew that she was providing excellent customer service. She knew her sacrifice would benefit everyone she loved and bring pleasure to her client. It was a small price to pay. She tried to keep the tears from welling up in her dark eyes.
Bill knelt in front of her ready to adjust the position of her torso as the destroying steel penetrated her. He pressed a button on the remote control, and the final thrust pierced her and tore through her body. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. The tears streamed down her face unchecked, but she did not scream. It passed through her quickly, and Mark wound his fingers into the strands of her long silky dark hair to pull her head back gently.
Wen had felt many shafts in her mouth, but this was the first to come from the wrong direction. Also it was the first to taste of blood and steel. She stared cross-eyed at the spit that impaled her. She was still alive, but the heaviness in her chest and tightness in her stretched throat made her realize that breathing was a thing of the past for her.
In her last moments of life, she felt her client caressing her doomed shoulders gently. He hugged her dying body almost lovingly. "Thank you, Wen," he said softly to her. He made her feel happy and peaceful as her end lurched nearer.
"Sir, would you like us to put her on to roast or should we butcher her for you to take home?" asked one of the attendants from a few feet away from her.
"It would be great if you could roast up a nice piece of her rump for my dinner. The rest I'd like butchered and wrapped for me to take home."
Although she felt light-headed and had nearly expired, Wen felt Mark sliding a sharp knife into the left side of her small rump, and she felt Bill insert the blade of a razor-sharp gutting knife into her belly just below her navel. The pain felt minor and far away.
Before these initial slices had been completed, Wen's surrendered life slipped peacefully from her abused body, and for once Taz was wrong. Wen no longer felt anything at all.