Death by Chess

Chapter 2

There was a consequence of Kim's reprieve from death that her Arabian predecessor had not had to bear. Kim was now treated with contempt by her peers because she had broken a basic code among those who live in the shadow of the abattoir: she had escaped activation by talking her buyer into slaughtering another girl in her place. And it wasn't just any girl. Richter had chosen her closest friend, a tall strawberry blond girl named Katie. Was he unconsciously replicating for Kim the same pain he had watched Aprille endure when her best friend, River, was activated during his first visit to Musgrave?

Kim had to learn to ignore the silent treatment from her former friends, and the reproach in their eyes. The one compensating fact that helped her get past their disdain was that while poor Katie was dead and digested, she, Kim, was still very much alive. Besides, Katie wasn't exactly suffering at the end. They'd loaded her up with so much O-drug that the least touch of anything on her body set off waves of orgasms, including the blade slicing through her neck. When Richter gave her that last kiss, his fingers deep in her love slot, she looked like she would hump herself off the hook before she finally went limp and died.

The orgy itself was a blast. Reassurance that she was going to live at least another month went a long way to helping Kim relax and enjoy the evening's bacchanal with her host. He was, after all, amazingly attractive and sexy for an old guy in his forties. The fact that he owned her as girl-meat and was legally free to snuff her whenever he wished was a perversely outrageous turn-on. Or maybe that overload of O-drugs had saturated Katie's meat and Kim had eaten one serving of it too many. Perhaps those incredible orgasms with Werner on the lawn, in his bed, in the tub, against the gate, in the flower garden, in his dungeon, in a hammock and the all other places where their bodies had merged and slithered and spurted their juices had simply been drunken, synthetic ecstacy. Yet long after the sun had risen on the tangled, moaning bodies of the excessively entertained revelers, she wanted more. More of her sweet master Werner.

That's what she called him, now. Werner. She wondered if he felt anything at all toward her like she felt toward him. Or was she just a pretty fuck. The king's one-night-stand, soon-to-be-snuffed, slut bride. She guessed she'd find out in a month.

Another encouraging point: he had not ripped off her idea. He had let her talk about it, make plans, get excited. He cringed at the costs, but he let her organize it, even assigning her an office near his in the administration building. Her, a mere meat-girl! He often dropped in to check on developments. A man of business. But also a man of many hands. All over her. Stroking her hair, brushing her cheeks and lips, cupping her breasts, massaging her tummy, rubbing the valley between her legs. Kissing her. And she reciprocated. Eagerly! Hungry for him. But what did any of it mean? Did he want her as a woman? Or was it to make her eventual sacrifice more poignant for him, more worthy of Aprille's memory?

All too soon a problem loomed that was both inevitable and frightening. She needed more time. This project was going to take more than a month to bring off. There was a prodigious amount of work to be done. Equipment to be purchased and built. Girls to recruit and train. Costumes to make. Broadcast availability. The field to be prepared. A kazillion details. And although Werner was on top of all this through his daily visits to her office and could not help but realize the time line would exceed the one month reprieve, he had said nothing. What was his assumption here? That her deadline would be automatically extended in accordance with reality? Or that she would be sacrificed at the next orgy as scheduled and someone else would take over the chess project? The fear built in her gut until she could no longer hold down her meals.

Finally, four days before the big banquet, three before her month expired, she broke under the strain of not knowing. Werner had come into her office as usual, and was stroking her hair as he looked over her shoulder at the paperwork strewn on her desk. She burst into tears. His hand froze for a moment, nestled in her dark hair. Then he grasped her gently by both arms and lifted her to her feet, turning her to face him. Her eyes were closed and leaking, her body shaking with quiet sobs.

"What's the matter, Kimberlee?"

"You know what's the matter," she said.

He chuckled. "Actually, I do. But I want you to tell me."

"Why?" She batted the tears away with he right hand, furious at herself for showing her fear. "So you can humiliate me by making me beg for my life? All right! I'm begging! I know I can make this game work and I know it will attract a huge audience! But it won't be ready by Saturday and you know it won't. It's not fair that you won't let me finish it! There are lots of other girls."

"Why do you think I won't?"

"Because you haven't said anything! My month is running out and you haven't said anything. What am I supposed to think?"

"Kim . . ."

"Please, Werner, please! I know you loved Aprille and I know these sacrifices are important to you, but please don't do me yet. Please! I know I can make you proud of me, too, if you just give me another month. Please! I'm not afraid to die, I'm really not. It's what I was born for. It's what I was raised to do. But let me do one other thing besides being meat. I'm almost there. Please let me finish. Please give me this one chance before you snuff me. Just one game, then I'll be ready. Please."

"You're an extraordinary girl, Kim."

"Please, just this one thing, just one more month." She felt him slipping away and started weeping again in her frustration. "Please, Werner, please."

He kissed the tears from each eye, which made her cry harder.

"I love you, Kim."

She stopped breathing. Did that mean he wanted to spare her, or that she was good enough to sacrifice to Aprille? She looked into his eyes. They were soft and wistful. But were they wistful for her or for the memory of his first lost love?

"I love you, too, Werner," she whispered. "Surely you know that. And I'll die by your hand and still love you because I know it will make you happy. But our love is impossible. We both know that. I'm only meat. I can't even breed, like Aprille did, so that I can stay alive to have a life with you. All I can do to make you happy is die. That and this one other thing. Let me do it in your honor, my darling Werner. Please let me honor you and Aprille by creating and producing the first Musgrave Chess Battle. I'll even take part in it. I'll be one of the kings, if you like. If my team loses, you get my carcass to cut up for your freezer. If my team wins, you get me live to sacrifice at your next orgy."

"If your teams wins," he said, "I get to keep you for as many games as you keep winning. That's the deal."

Kim was speechless for several moments, trying to decide if she'd heard him right.

"You're going to give me another month?"

"One more month and as long as you keep on winning. If your game is as successful as you say it's going to be, I shouldn't have too much trouble bending the meat girl laws to allow for that. And if you're as good a chess player and as ferocious a fighter as you are a salesman, we might have a number of wonderful years together. And we won't even have to work our sex life around endless pregnancies."

Kim bounded up onto him, wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him and kissed him until he bled. Then they tore off each other's clothes, melted to the floor and fucked industriously until they reached a state of mutually exhausted bliss.