meat

meat

by

W. L. Telford

Although I believe this story can stand alone, it might be a sequel to WORLDS APART.

No one knows what happened to Carol Edwards after she stepped naked into an elevator on the fifth level of underground parking beneath a Los Angeles office building. 

This is one possibility.

1

With apologies to T.S. Eliot: 

This is the way the world ends. 

This is the way the world ends. 

This is the way the world ends: 

Not with a bang but a whisper. 

A life ended as an elevator door closed behind a beautiful woman with a whisper and a whiff of displaced air against her bare back.  And then nothing happened.  Time, which she could not measure, stretched.  A minute?  Two?  Five?  She understood she was being taught a lesson.

She was in a steel box.  She could not escape even if she wanted to, which she did not.  She could not go back.  She could not go forward.  Absolute.  Irrevocable.  Came to her mind.  But did not yet seem real.

 

Smooth burnished walls void of control buttons.  No numbered floors.   No ‘open’.  No ‘close.’  Certainly no emergency intercom.  The overhead was nine feet high, far beyond her reach.  She assumed she was under observation, and stood waiting for another’s whim, as henceforth she knew she always would.  Finally, with a low hum of distant machinery, the elevator moved and, involuntary, her hands clenched, nails digging into palms, until she deliberately made them relax.

The elevator had two doors.  She had entered through one and assumed that she would exit through the other.

The ascent slowed, eased to a stop.  Doors again whispered and opened onto another world. 

A few feet away a man, about her own age and height, wearing a light blue polo shirt with the Lacoste alligator emblem, tan slacks, brown loafers without socks.  He looked like the friendly golf pro at a private club.  Two bigger men, muscles straining fabric, no necks, huge shoulders, weight lifters, maybe former football linemen, stood behind him.  Not threatening, but watchful.  Their eyes swept up and down her naked body.  An Asian woman, black hair clipped short, in a red t-shirt and jeans.

“Very dramatic,” said blue polo shirt.  “I admire your style.  Among other things.  You can come out.”

As she did, taking three steps forward onto a tile floor cool beneath the soles of her bare feet, the Asian woman stepped into the elevator and the doors closed.

“She’s getting your shoes.  You won’t need them; but we can’t leave them there.  Messy.  Come closer..  No one here is going to harm you.”

The two big men separated and moved, one to either side of her, a thick arm’s length away.

“Unless,” polo shirt continued.  “You’ve had a change of mind.  Or heart.  It happens.  And,” he chuckled, “of course, not all meat volunteer.

He walked around her.  Then back in front.  He stood close, reached out and lifted the heavy gold nose ring that hung from her septum, startlingly barbaric, testing the weigh, let it fall back down.

She shivered.  Her skin was covered with goose bumps.  Hundreds of men had looked at her naked body in person, millions on computers; but this was different.  Not sexual.   Appraisal.   A potential buyer looking at a horse or prize pig. 

“Spread your legs.”

He crouched, eyes level with her cunt, studied for a moment, then ran his fingers over the gold helix, whose spiral rings locked her labia minor.  “I think we’ll sell you with it in place.  A novelty.   What do you think?”  He was addressing the Asian woman who had just emerged from the elevator with black high-heeled sandals in her hands.  She dropped them in a wastebasket next to a desk on which stood a 27” iMac.   Then moved beside him.  Her eyes roved up and down.

“Yes.  Just like that.  The nose ring.  The gold thing sealing her cunt.  The key on the chain around her neck.  I assume that is for the cunt lock.  They’ll like that.  Total ownership.  Pride of possession.  Maybe a little more gold.  A chain around one ankle.  Slave girl.  Have to do something to hype the market.  She’s beautiful, but she’s old.”

Thirty-four old? she thought.  I’ve never been called ‘old’ before.

“Good idea.  See if we have something in wardrobe.” 

The Asian woman went to a heavy metal security door, the only door other than the elevator.  It had no handle and opened when the woman pressed her fingertips to a scanner.

For the first time, the beautiful woman noticed her surroundings.  The room was an oval loft double height with various chains and other objects hanging overhead.  No windows.  In the quadrant to her right the desk and computer.  To her left a sofa and several armchairs covered in easy to clean black vinyl.  Ahead to the left a holding cell.  Ahead to the right a six inch high white raised platform in front of a plain white curtain that followed the curve of the room.

The security door opened and she saw that there was another beyond it.

The Asian woman knelt in front of her.   “I don’t think it matters which ankle.”  And fastened a gold chain with links the same ⅛” width as the rings of the helix around the left ankle; stood; smiled.  “Excellent.” 

“You can go over and sit down,” said polo shirt.

She did, on the sofa, vinyl sticking to skin.

The big men followed and sat in armchairs, facing her.

After consulting with the Asian woman at the computer for a few minutes, polo shirt joined them.  He was carrying a bathroom scale.

“Obviously we are prepared to overcome resistance, but there is no reason why this should not be easy,  so I am going to tell you what is going to happen, though treating you like a human being may be a disservice.  You are not a human being.  You are meat.  Temporarily you are 012111,” giving the date numerically.  “And who you will be tomorrow is up to your new owner.

“The auction will take place in less than an hour.  We move meat as quickly as possible; and with you we had advance notice and excellent promotional images.  You do look innocent.  I must admit that without those images I wouldn’t have believed you’ve done the things you have. 

“The auction won’t take very long.  A few minutes.  You’ll stand over there,” pointing to the platform in front of the white curtain, “and follow instructions.  That’s all you ever have to do anymore:  follow instructions.  All right?”

“As though I have a choice?”

“Of course not.  I just want to know that you’ll cooperate.  If not, we’ll do things differently.”

“I’ll cooperate.

“Stand on the scale.”

“I’m really to be sold by the pound?”

“Kilo, actually.  Most of our buyers are metric.”  Looking down at the scale, “Fifty-eight.  You should bring $10,000 to $20,000 a kilo, less than your weight in gold these days, but about the same as a winning race horse, though not a derby winner.  What are you 5’9” or 10?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll call it 1.77 meters.  You can sit down.”

The beautiful blond woman did.  The eyes of all three men followed her swaying breasts.

“To forestall the obvious next questions,” polo shirt continued.  “The auction takes place here via the Internet.  If you expected a roomful of leering faces, you’re going to be disappointed. 

“l’ll be using a handheld webcam.  Bidders can only join our VPN with equipment we provide.  They are all over the world.  Mostly private individuals:  businessmen--and a few women, African presidents, South American drug kings, oil, an increasing market in China, some syndicates, some private clubs, occasionally a brothel, but our prices are not really cost effective for them. 

“Meat spoils; so upon conclusion of the bidding you’ll be delivered to your owner, or more likely his, or her, representative, somewhere in California within twelve hours.

“That’s all I’m going to tell you.  If you need to use the bathroom or want something to drink, ask.  Otherwise, sit and wait.  It will be good practice.”  And he turned and joined the Asian woman at the computer.

One of the big men, with a shaved balding head, said, “Open your legs.”

She did.

“Farther.  How long have you been locked up?

“Months.”

“And you don’t get fucked in your cunt?”

“Seldom.”

Both men smiled. 

“Clever,” said the other, with long stringy hair.  “Do you ever come or does it just build up and up and keep you always on edge?”

“Mostly on edge.  But when I do come, it is sensational.”

“I’d like to see that.  We aren’t allowed to mess with the meat--word would get back from the owners--except in special cases; but I sure would like to work you over.  Put your feet up on the edge of your chair.”

She did, which forced her pelvis forward and further exposed the helix.

“I’d like that,” she said, letting her hands drift down and over her breasts, teasingly touching her nipples with fingertips.  She felt herself getting wet for the first time that day.

“No you wouldn’t.  We’d make sure of that.”

“That’s why I would like it.”

One of the men groaned in frustration.

“Jesus,” said the other.

“Can I put my feet down?”

“Yeah.  No point looking at what we can’t have.”

…

“Show time,” said blue polo shirt, and her stomach flip-flopped involuntarily.  “Come on.  Stand there.  Put your hands behind your back.  Cross your wrists.  I’m not going to chain you.  This is theater.”

The Asian woman said, “Stand straight.  Move your left foot back about three inches and at an angle to the right one  and raise your heel so your weight in on your toes on that foot.  Good.  Brings attention to the line of your leg and hip.”

She touched up the naked woman’s lipstick and with one hand brushed back her blond hair.

A thin white curtain descended from the ceiling just in front of the platform.

“Because of your nose ring, we’re going to do things in reverse order.  Usually we lower the curtain and expose the face first and then work our way down.  With you we’re going to raise the curtain and work our way up.  That ring will come as a shock and should hype the final bids.”

The Asian woman went back to the desk and computer, while polo shirt, carrying his webcam, walked around to the other side of the panel. 

It was an eerily silent life-changing event.  The beautiful woman only knew it had begun when the curtain moved upward five inches. 

She wondered how many men and women around the world were seeing her bare high arched feet, red painted toenails, and fine ankles, around the left of which hung a gold chain in a graceful arc.  What would one bid on those elegant feet?

The curtain rose to above her knees.  Then to just below her cunt.  Then to her waist. She glanced down.  Not much of the helix would be visible to the camera.  Then above her breasts to her neck.   Each interval longer as bidding increased with exposure of perfect flesh:  full hips, narrow waist, fine bones, large dark-nippled breasts.

Finally the curtain raised to the ceiling, and she was looking directly at polo shirt and camera.

Polo shirt zoomed in on her face, on the thick 2” diameter nose ring that hung down to her upper lip, panned up to blue-green eyes, down to mouth.

“Part your lips.  Not far.  That’s good.”

He moved slowly around to her side, then her back, panning down her spine, lingering on her submissively crossed wrists, the cleft of her ass, down her thighs and calfs, then up.

“Spread your legs.  Bend from the waist.  Spread your cheeks.”

She held that familiar pose for what seemed minutes, seeing in her mind what the camera was revealing:  puckered anus, smooth shaven locked cunt.

“O.K.  On your knees.  Sit back.  Ass on heels.  Cross your wrists behind you”

He moved in front of her again.  Men.  Women.  All over the world.  Staring at her covetously.  Negligently.  Perhaps some even indifferently.   Bidding on her.  Bidding to buy her.  She felt herself getting wetter.

“Lift your breasts with your hands, as though you are offering them.”

“Open your mouth wide.”  The camera zoomed in.

“Now on your back.  Missionary position.  Splayed knees wide apart.  Arms stretched full length above your head.  Palms up and open.”

The camera roved the beautiful body.  Open hands.   Eyes.  Gold nose ring.  Mouth.  Gold key on neck chain.  Breasts.  Large dark nipples.  Narrow waist.  Flat belly.  Naval.  Cunt.  Zoomed in on gold helix.  Held.  Thighs.  Ankles.  Gold chain.  Feet. 

Then, with polo shirt standing over her, zoomed out to a full body shot, seeing what an owner would see:  incomparable beauty waiting to be used, to bring pleasure in every way imaginable.

A small red light on the camera went out.  It was over.  She had been sold.  It was surreal.

The Asian woman was all smiles. 

Polo shirt joined her at the computer and begin smiling, too.

“You can get up now, “ he said.

Forgetting her place, she asked, “Where do I go?”

“Meat goes where the money is.”