"the night before spring slaughter" By robblu (https://pastebin.com/u/robblu) URL: https://pastebin.com/XYLxxTPL Created on: Wednesday 15th of February 2017 01:53:23 PM CDT Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 03:23:27 AM UTC The Night Before Spring Slaughter It is strange because I have looked forward to this day for so long that it is like an abstract thought kindred to seeing Santa Claus delivering gifts under the tree. Mistress Raynette warned us when we came of slaughtering age that this feeling might happen. From the day I learned to talk, I had been trained, taught, and conditioned that my primary and sole purpose in life was to grow healthy and string, so that I could be butchered and put into the food stock. I was born into slavery unlike so many of the conscripted first born girls who struggle with the privilege of giving their lives. Still, almost like a cancer, my flesh awakens and wants to continue living. I enjoy my life. Since I turned 13 and was sold into Mistress Raynette's Meat Farm, I have lived in total comradarie with hundreds of other girls also awaiting their turn to be slaughtered. I have personally watched over 200 sister slaves... best friends, playmates, lovers... go before me into the old country slaughter house at the back of Mistress Raynette's property. There I would assist in preparing them, washing them down, moving their carcasses, saying goodbye. They would be killed often quickly and easily, some harder and more painful. Most went with contentment that their life was being fulfilled with purpose. Others let their flesh get the best of them and suffered more, resisting, or dying fearfully. I don't want to be that girl. Everyone dies. It doesn't matter if you make it to Resolution or if you die as a child. What matters is if your life has a transcendant purpose. Knowing that a satyr or a nymph will find nutrition and health in my flesh does that. Still, as this morning has been approaching, I have felt myself develop a sense of loss. All of the joys that I have known here were going to be gone. I was going to be gone. I vividly remember the mix of lament and joy I would have for one of my sister slaves that I was close to when she was put to death. Missing her, playing with her, the little things that she did that might have been familiar to us all. To a certain point there is never a set population because girls were always being killed and girls were always being added from Conditioning Farms. I always got caught up in the festive spirit of the Fall and Spring Slaughters, as all of us anxiously awaited to see if we would be culled for that year's big reduction. Death is very casual at our farm. It is because we are led by a wonderful Owner. Mistress Raynette is a woman in a business that is predominately populated by Satyrs and men. She knows that one day she will also be put to death, even for Resolution's sake. She appreciates that our deaths, as her slaves, gives her a good life. She pours herself back into our lives as her slaves, caring for us with love and firmness. While she doesn't personally kill every girl as she did when she first started (so she told us), she is always there to say goodbye with a hug and genuinely thank each girl for dying for her. Some of the girls are concubines for her and many she has been extremely close to. Still when it is their time, she puts them to death as if she never knew them, though she is visibly set back by the death of each one whom she has allowed to draw close to. There is so much love and goodness and joy, mixed in the pathos and bereavement of the commoness of death that when it is your time, you can't help but wonder of how life as an adult would be. I believe in God and that I will be going to Heaven. But there is a tenaciousness in my flesh that wants to live and, as a slave, it almost embarrasses me. It is with all of these conflagrations of emotion that I lay silently on my bed for the last time, shadows of predawn darkness sending only shafts of moonlight over the other girls who are sleeping in the dorm. Some of them were awake like me, considering their last few hours of life. Some of those who were dying were unperturbred and their contented snoring attested such. I saw Claudette's large shadow move quietly through the darkness, stopping at specific beds and gently rousing the occupant to whisper in conversation. She had started at the other end of the dorm and was about halfway to me, I estimated. She was the Mistress Raynette's Head Overseer.. She was also, like me and all the other girls in the dorm, a Meat Slave; the Mistress' prize champion in fact. She had been the Overseer for as long as I had been here. It was her job to assist with slaughter during the cullings and also to "prepare" the girls when it was their day to die. If Claudette came to your bed during the night, you knew that you were going to be killed in the morning. She would do this perhaps twice a week normally: to fulfill any ala carte ordering for the small rural butcher shop the Mistress maintained at the farm and on Friday nights before the weekly slaughter where three or four girls are butchered to refill stock in the shop. I let my head turn and watch the barely distinquishable shadow four beds down, across the aisle. I hear her voice, or more the tone of her voice because they are talking too softly to hear what they are saying. It is warm and motherly. She is as beloved by the slaves as the Mistress, although almost everyone of us has received the sterness of her carrying out discipline against our bottoms. With each stop she made, there was a conversation and then there was the "soothing time reward". It was neverr spoken of and no one ever asked Claudette about it. Then when that was done she would move to the next bed. After twenty minutes of watching her in the quiet dark, she arrives at my bed. She pauses to look down at me and sees that I am awake and sits carefully down by the bed. Without speaking, she pulls the covers off of me and without announcement begins unbottoning my pajama top. When it is completely undone, she flips it open and I feel the cool air waft over my bare chest, my nipples crinkling spontanously. "Lift your butt for me," she whispers routinely. I obey and her hands catch the elastic waistline of both my bottoms and my underwear, tugging them down to my knees. Without instruction, I pull one leg completely free. Claudette and are familiar and I know that I am one of her favorites. She doesn't need to tell me what to do because I know that without speaking she has announced that I will be killed in the morning. I spread my legs for her and I feel her soft hand run up the inside of my thigh. It feels nice but I am nervous now. I don't know why but this suddenly fills me with angst. Claudette has seen a thousand girls put to death on her watch as overseer. She senses my sudden inexplicable dread. "Sssshh..." I hear her shadow hush softly. "See even good girls like you can get nervous." "I don't understand," I whisper, almost in tears. "I'm ready to die. I've always been." Her hand runs soft and warm of my soft, round breasts, gently caressing the nipples until they are starting to respond. Then her hand slided down my tummy. I draw my breath as the tip of her fingers reach my the top of my mons. I haven't had much sex in the last year and her touch suddenly makes me forget the painful death I will experience tomorrow. She shifts so that she is kneeling on one knee next to me and I can see her eyes reflecting in the moonlight. Someone is snoring the dorm. "If I remember you were more tongue than finger, right?" I barely nod and realize she can't see that. "Yes," I whisper. She pats the inside of my leg and I draw my knees up and out, splaying my genitals. She leans forward and rests comfortably below me on her elbows. She softly kisses my mons just above the cleft. She presses a second kiss against the top of the cleft, her lips grazing my hooded clit. I shudder and cover my mouth. Though emotionally I am scared, my body hungry for the pleasure it has been denied for so long is responding. My pussy is literally oozing and Claudette begins to patiently and steadily lick up the secretions almost ignoring my pulsing clit. She spreads me with her fingers and I sob into my hand covering my mouth. She pauses and raises up to look at me. "You need to come quick, baby girl," she whispers. "I got two others to do before bed." Without removing my hand, I shake my head, as I feel her buttery soft tongue lathe my slit and then up over my clit. She repeats this steady paint brushing motion. I couldn't not come if I wanted to. Four strokes and I felt my vagina clench and then I squirted into her mouth and face causing her to giggle. I was crying into my pillow which I was biting as she held me firmly while my hips humped up towards her face. She faithfully kept her tongue lighly on me so I could fuck my way through the orgasm which almost caused me to faint. I was trembling and trying not to gasp too loudly for air. My last orgasm on earth was divine. She looked down at me smiling as she lifted my sheet to her face and wiped the splash of girl cum off of her face. "Slaughter house at First Call," she says caressing my cheek. I nod still unable to effectively catch my breath. "Good bye, baby girl.'' Then she rises and walks into the shadow down the aisle. Unconciously my hand goes to my crotch and pets my still buzzing pussy as I watch her. She is at Julie's bed, across the aisle and two beds down. I see her shadow sit on bed and I nearly lose sight of her because the moonlight is no longer stretched on that end of the dorm. Again, I hear the tone of voices without words. However, after a moment there is a marked difference. After a final, questioning, Claudette rises to her feet next to the bed her sillouette large and pronounced. I see the much smaller Julie sit up on the edge of the bed and look up at Claudette, her eyes the only thing I can make out clearly, full of adoration. Claudette lifts her flimsy gown up over her heaving breasts, and I see Julie's hands wrap around the overseer' wide ass cheeks. Then her face disappears moving forward to press into Claudette's flesh crotch. Claudette doesn't react like I did. I have seen her be sexual and she is a quiet but intense lover. I hear her breath vary, a testimony to the pleasure she was being given. The most amazing thing was the creamy sound of the licking and sucking. It was as tender as the scene and again I became aroused, my index and middle fingers moving along the outside of the hood of my button. I wished I had thought to ask to eat Claudette. It was something I never got to do, but other girls had told me that the taste of her pussy was sublime. Julie was allowed to lick Claudette for about three minutes and then dismissed back to bed. Claudette bent over and kissed Julie and then, instead of moving off to tomorrows next victim, she returned quietly to my bed. I started to pull my pajamas back up and she waved it off. "It's okay," she whispered. "I need a favor." She looked around and amazingly there were only a couple of girls still awake, all of them girls that Claudette had awakened. "I need to go to bed, so I can be ready for morning. Will you eat Julie's pussy for me, please? I want her to come, even though she asked not to and I am almost out of time. I still have to go over and close up Mistress' house." Even though she asked, I knew that it was an instruction. "Of course, Miss," I say. "She likes it soft like you. She can play with you too, as long as you can be quiet. You guys can go in my room." She never even waited for me to respond but got up and left to tell the last girl that she was going to die tomorrow. As that was going on, I pulled my pajamas up and buttoned two buttons on my top and rose very carefully to not disturb anyone. I padded barefoot to the side of Julie's bed. She was an athletic, less curvy girl than most of the meat slaves here. She must have seen me because her head followed me all the way over to her. She normally wore glasses but not at night. She starts to speak but I bring my finger to my mouth to remind her to be quiet. I lean forward and whisper into her ear. "Miss Claudette wants you to come with me." Julie is quizzical but she observed Claudette revisiting me before moving on, so there was no reason to not consider my statement valid. She pulled the covers back and sat back up. I took her hand and led her down the aisle opposite the direction Claudette was. At the end of the dorm aisle was two entrances. One was to the showers and toilets and the second on the left was the overseers quarters. I opened the door and she walked in. It was very dark but there was a thin shaft of moonlight that helped get oriented before I moved inside the room. I didn't let go of Julie's hand which was almost as nervous and fidgety as I felt. I led her to Claudette's bunk which was larger and more comfortable than ours. When we were standing next to it, I moved with surprising authority. "Miss Claudette says you have to have to come before your slaughtered," I say as unbutton her pajama top. Julie doesn't react facially at all that I can tell, but she cooperatively shrugs her top off and then pulls down her bottoms and panties. I hear her sigh with warm resignation. "I love her," she says idly as she steps out of her night clothes and stands naked in front of me. I am now aroused again at the thought of licking Julie. We have been lovers before and I remember it being a most pleasant experience. I feel Julie's hands on my bottoms. "I'll eat you too," she whispers. I remember that Julie derives as much or more pleasure giving sex as receiving it, which explained her choice when Claudette came to her. I thought briefly to tell her it wasn't necessary but by the time I was going to say it, my pants were off and Julie was already kneeling on the bunk. I simply followed her down. She laid on one side and I layed on the other side in the reverse direction. As we feel our skin touch we pull each other's body close, our faces moving into the crack of the other's butt to begin to minister our tongues on our waiting genitals Immediately, it was clear that we weren't going to be rushing. It was so sweetly gentle and soft, the sound of our patient licks and kisses only interrupted by the occasional coo of delight. I seemed less interested in bringing her to orgasm as I was in giving her an oral massage. I would lick luxuriously over her clit, then address her puffy labia, move up and down the sides, lick her thighs, pause to lick up the gathering girl cum in her vaginal opening and then lick and prod her tiny anus. She did similar things but had her index finger deep in my rectum which was very nice. I never came because it was so weird. I was doing a job for Miss Claudette. Julie came several times; soft, quiet shudders where I could feel her suddenly fill my mouth with her moisture. We were there for a while. I knew we were deep into the morning. I now had only a few hours to live. There are steps in the dorm and Claudette slips into the room. Julie rolls off and my mouth suddenly has nothing to do. Claudette smiles slightly. "Did you come?" she whispers. Julie nods and starts to speak, but instead just holds up four fingers. She stands and pulls her pajamas back on. Claudette kisses her on the forehead as she passes out of the room as I am putting my own pajamas back on. Claudette raises her hand as I pick up my top. She comes very close so that I can hear her. "Thank you for doing that." I smile earnestly and nod. "Why don't you stay in here tonight. No sex, just relax until its time. Its only a couple of hours now." I shake my head in agreement. "Take those back off." Claudette peeled out of her gown and pulled back the covers of her bed. Her bunk was a double but she and I are big girls so we still fill it. She nestles my head against her full busom and gently strokes my hair. I wasn't sure why I received such generous disposition but her breats are soft and inviting. "I'm getting butchered in the morning, too," Claudette whispers in my ear. She squeezes me gently as an affirmation, like we are embarking on a great quest together. I am tempted to nurse her, her nipple so close to my mouth... not sexually...just to grow even more at peace. She would have let me Still, despite all of my angst and the knowledge that it would be the last I would ever have, I surrender, almost reluctantly, to sleep. I am standing in a line just inside the Mistress Raynette's old simple, slaughterhouse which is placed back from the main campus so that the screams of the slaves being butchered will not upset the ones still being fattened. It is a cold Sunday morning and the door behind us is shut as tight as possible to keep our naked bodies as comfortble as possible until we die. There are 12 of us there and the very first is being killed when Claudette comes in. The girl's angry groan of pain as the Jessica's long steel spit passes through her body and at the same town empties her bowels from her almost drowns out Claudette's cheerful greeting. Another girl steps up and is beheaded by hand. It is a quiet and quick death, her decapitated body lifted by the ankles to bleed out from the pulsing neck wound. I am too big for that kind of death. I'm sure that the Jessica waits for me. It is the only truly updated slaughtering equipment on the farm. It isn't any easier a death for the slave but the demand for the highest grade meat slaves to be spitted has increased exponentially. I am close to that threshold. It is either the Jessica or I was going to be disemboweled by hand, also a difficult form of slaughter. I have always known it so I am emotionally prepared. I know all of the ranch hands and butchers at our farm. I like many of them so I am completely comfortable in putting my death in their hands, however they decided to do it. A second more slender girl bends down as Claudette passes me, gently patting my naked bottom. I see the blade chop down three times, with a little painful shriek as my friend Abby dies. A moment later I see her lifted by her legs and now there are two corpses hanging. Claudette cuts to the front of the Jessica line, instructing the girl who was about to mount it back into line. It's good to be the queen. I will never speak to her again. The room falls hushed, and Mistress Raynette comes in suddenly, still wearing her bath robe. She passes all of us and goes straight up to where Claudette was. I couldn't hear what they were saying but I could see Claudette's eyes misting up. Mistress hugs her naked overseer warmly. At first it just seemed warm, then they broke the hug without releasing each other and it was clear that their relationship went far beyond Mistress and slave. Claudette was assertive and pulled Mistress' face close and they kissed with uncommon passion. As they did, the last girl in line for beheading is killed with a single stroke and I see her blond head tossed into a bin with the other two. I can no longer watch Mistress and Claudette because I am being examined by a butcher, a nice woman named Carla who I have played volleyball with a few times. She has her hands on me, testing and assessing my fat ratio. "Cmon over her, sweetie," Carla says softly. I thought I would be able to see Claudette meet her end on the Jessica, but Mistress was still kissing and whispering to her. Oddly, I see a girl in the back of the slaughterhouse, being hung slowly, choking and dangling as she is asphyxiated. Carla gently has me by the elbow and leads me to the big stone carving table where I am going to die. I am ready but my instinct to survive begins to kick in and I begin to tremble involutarily, my breath becoming rapid and shallow. I am embarrassed and Carla notices. "I'm so sorry, Miss Carla," I say honestly. She chuckles. "Baby, I know you're gonna go fine. It's normal. Why do you think Claudette cut in line?" I smile weakly as we arrive at the carving table. There are restraints at the top and foot of the of the 8 foot stone edifice. Next to it, is a smaller metal table with an assortment of blades and instruments that she will butcher me. Carla pats the edge of the carving table bidding me to mount the table so she can kill me. As I lift myself up onto the edge, Julie arrives to wait her turn after me. Secretly, though I am pleased that Carla will be ending my life, I wish I was getting beheaded or hung. I am afraid of the pain I am about to have to go and my shaking isn't stopping even though I am cooperative. Julie smiles at me weakly and I see the same trepidation in her face. The exchange of glances takes only two seconds and I am about to lay back on the table to be restrained but Julie dances up to me and taking my chubby cheeks in her hands, kisses my face tenderly. "Die well," she whispers. "You too," I respond in the same hushed tone. As she steps back out of the way, Carla steps back close to me and without being bid I lay back on the cold stone table. I close my eyes and I feel Carla gently spreading and stretching out my left leg. I feel the soft lined leather strap secure my ankle to the table. Then she calmly repeats the procedure on my right leg. I hear another squeal as someone else is being decapitated. It's actually quiet in the slaughter house and I hear the head hit the floor with a soft thump and the pumping blood splashing in rhythm on the floor. Carla is walking to the head of the table. "Stretch you arms over your head baby." I open my eyes and stretch my arms over my head. She catches my right hand and guides it slightly to my right. As I am a little short, she has to pull my wrist fairly high and taunt and when she finally gets my arm fastened to the table, it is a little uncomfortable. I know it is pulling my soft belly taunt and will make it easier for her to carve into. Carla moves to the left and captures my left wrist. As she does, I let my head turn and look back into the main part of the slaughter house. Girls are dying quickly now. Another beheading and another hanging. Claudette is mounting the Jessica and there are several administrators who have stopped to watch her die like she were a celebrity. My arm jerks uncomfortably as I tightened to the table. Julie has turned to watch the final preparations of Claudette who looks completely different now. While I know she is prepared to welcome her death, her face is almost wild, her eyes wide as the receiver is placed into her mouth. I know that her expression is more an issue of the discomfort being trussed in was for her and her corpulent frame. I became so emamored in watching the scene that I forgot that I was about to die. I turned and Miss Carla was putting on a plastic gown and then gloving up. I let my head roll back. Julie looked back at me briefly with a small smile and then turned back to watch Claudette. I hear many voices all say goodbye in unision, but they are not for me. I hear the familiar whir of the Jessica coming to life. Claudette's body jerks suddenly her eyes flying wide open. She cries out as the spit begins its journey through her body. She continues to scream more profoundly and then stops suddenly. Tears stream out of her eyes as they go dead, the bloody tip of the spit emerging steadily out of her mouth into the guide. Her fat fleshy frame twitches spontaneously and she is gone. I hear the crinkling of plastic and I am startled when Miss Carla is standing over me. She says nothing but addresses the tip of a six inch serrated blade just over my pubis. There is no salutation or good bye for me. I can't look and turn to Julie who is watching me to see how she will die. I feel the blade drive deep into my belly. "ooooohhhhhh....." The sound came out of me almost spontaneously. There is first a strange shock where my body is registering the violation of its structure and my voice issues the shock of that, even before the pain starts. "aaahh....aaahhhh.....uuuuhhhh...." "Try to be still sweetie." Miss Carla was not angry, she was simply encouraging me to make it easier for me. However, as she begins to saw upward opening my stomach and ripping through the fibers of my abdominal muscles, shock turns not just to pain but agony and I cannot even help my response. "aah..uh...OH GOD!....AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIEREEEEEE!!!!!" It is a good scream almost distracting from the pain I am enduring. Miss Carla doesn't even flinch from my unseemly display (though I have heard dozens of girls scream during disembowelment. By the time the scream is over, I feel the blade bump against my sternum. I feel blood cascading down both sides of my body. I am straining and wrenching against the restraints to no avail. I close my eyes tightly and clench my teeth. I feel her sawing into my body again along my bikini line. It causes me to growl in anguish at first and then instead of screaming I hear myself in a long stream of harsh sobs. She withdraws and sets the big knife down. She looks into my face, he eyes covered with protective glasses. "You're doing fine," she says. I feel cold despite the warmth of my blood covering me now, sticky and copper smelling. She has a much small blade and she pulls open the cavity created by the wounds and I see the grotesgue fatty tissue of my belly for the first time and I am overwhelmed with nausea. I close my eyes again and I feel Miss Carla's hands inside me, wave after wave of nauseating sensations, as she is pulling out my bowels. I open my eyes, as if I were watching Claudette die. God, I need to pass out. However, I am too well condidtioned by discipline and the pain is insufficient to knock me out, so I writhe and cry at every violation that is done to my body in preparation for its future consumption. I see Miss Carla calmly pulling the bowels out. I feel blood almost squirting out of my pussy and my asshole and I realize that she has cut one end of my intestines at the anus, guiding that end over the side of the table into a waiting bin. I know that is to carefully protect any meat from exposure to stool that I might not have eliminated before slaughter. I turn my head, my eyes and vision clouded by tears. I see Julie, who cannot look anymore. I can hear nothing either because the pain is causing me to hear a roaring in my ears. Through the blur of tears, I see the nude outline of a girl being lifted off the ground by her neck writhing madly in her death knell. I feel so far away from death it seems, though I have never been closer. She is now reaching in with two hands having cut my organs loose and pulling my guts out in handfuls I can barely hear the creamy impact as she drops them in the bin. I blink and my vision clears for a moment. I can feel cool air on the massive cavity in my body. How long will it take me to die? Miss Carla dismisses the unspoken question. "Bye sweetheart," she says without looking at me, "You're a good girl." She says this as she has a thin medium sized blade in her hand, which reaches up into my rib cage. I am cold. Then there is a sharp sting in my chest and I seem to seize. "Ohhhh......" I sigh. It is the last thing I will ever say. I turn my head only because it falls that way and Julie looks at me with resignation knowing that she is about to be slaughtered as unpleasantly as I was. Blood flows out of my mouth as I can literally feel my eyes empty and not close. Instead of darkness things become hazy until all the color blends into one white light. There are touches and then silence.