Part Three
The playtimes continued, either by my own hand or by my husband's. I again often found myself naked, bound and stored away downstairs with the other meatgirls, I was now just another product waiting for the next customer. Or I was kept bound to either of the beds in our apartment above the shop, waiting for my ‘Master’ to come and take his ‘slave-girl’ for his pleasure, some of the times leaving me tied to the bed the entire night or placed away in our very own storage area, the cupboard in the spare room, usually that was used when we played my objectification fetish during the week and one of the other workers would be down in the shop the next day.
For his birthday I had been tightly trussed up again by Matt, coated in oil and placed inside of our oven in our apartment over the shop for him to come back and ‘eat’ later when he returned from playing golf, I was well and truly ‘cooked’ when he did finally use me, my juices flowing freely as he lapped them up, then taking me and adding his own special sauce, it was a birthday that he’d remember for a long time after. Pleased that I had been able to fulfil his wishes, I wondered what my birthday would bring.
A month later I would find out, returning home from work early on Monday after getting a phone call from Ollie, I was intrigued to find out what the urgent need for me to be home was. Walking in via the shop front door I saw that Ollie was busy chatting with a customer, while Matt was binding up the meatgirl that they had bought, again the sight of Matt trussing up the meatgirl made me hot and flustered, my face a bright crimson shade, which Ollie noticed and smiled at me.
Once the customer was gone, Matt carried the meatgirl package out to their vehicle, I didn’t notice that he’d locked the shop door on the way back in. Walking over to where Ollie was standing I was about to ask him why he wanted me to get home early, but I didn’t get a chance as was grabbed from behind, first, the muscular arm around my upper body, holding my arms at my sides, and then the other strong hand reaching around over my mouth stopped any further questioning on my part. Ollie then grabbed my legs and I was lifted off the ground and carried out to the storeroom in the rear of the shop.
As rope was tied around my wrists behind my back, I tried to resist, I wanted to know what the hell they were doing to me, and though this did tick off several of my bucket list of fantasies, it all came as a bit of a shock to me, it was all so sudden, one minute I was free, the next I was being quickly and efficiently bound and gagged. Once they had my wrists tied, my ankles soon followed suit, finishing off with the ball gag effectively silencing any vocal protests other than the grunts at my rough handling.
Laying my bound body down on the storeroom floor, I thought that they were done playing with me and that maybe they were both going to take me there and then, which I hoped was the reason behind all of this, but I was so wrong. Once they had subdued me, and bound my wrists and feet, they started to cut the clothing that I was wearing, some of my best office clothes were soon pieces of rags laying next to my bound form, if the gag wasn’t in place I would have severely ‘expressed’ my opinion on the matter and believe me it wouldn’t have been good.
Matt left shortly after they had their little package completely tied up in the storeroom, they had adjusted my wrist tie so that I was now able to be hung from a hook in the storeroom, all that was left for Ollie to finish off was the tag and the grading stamps. Once he had done those two things, the hood followed, cutting off my scathing looks from him. I was still pissed off at them for ruining my clothes, if they wanted me naked they could just have said so, but this was part of my husband’s plan it turned out. With the feeding tube now attached and the sold sticker in place, I was left hanging with the rest of the stock, now looking just like them.
It had all happened so fast, I had no idea why I was here or why Ollie had wanted me home early, plus we never played with me left in the storeroom outside of the weekends, okay and Fridays and sometimes overnight during the week, so I’m a bondage/objectification freak I admit it, I like being bound and stored away, kept and treated like a chattel, part of the stock, merchandise and not the woman I usually am. My role in the office can sometimes be very stressful and this is one of the best ways that I find that I can switch myself off and relax and enjoy myself.
But usually either I tied myself or Ollie did, after using me for some fun, but this was something totally different and he had it seemed roped Matt into grabbing me and tying me up. Matt knows that I like playing in the storeroom as he has found me in there several times, and even teases me by pretending to grab me to sell, and there of course was the time that he had tied me as a trussed up package and I had offered myself to him, which to his respect, he had denied me but helped me out with something else, but you already know about that.
Once the door of the storeroom closed and the room plunged into darkness, the sudden capture and tying up of my helpless body now over, I settled down and started to relax, well I figured bound as I was that I had no chance of escape, and Ollie had placed me in between two other warm-bodied meatgirls, which he knew that I liked, and their little erotic, sensuous dance started to have the desired effect on my own body. I soon found myself indulging in the dance, my own naked flesh rubbing and caressing the two adjacent meatgirls.
The sound of the lock closing on the storeroom door let the meatgirls know that the shop was now closed, another long night awaited them, their thirst was sated with the feeding tube, and it was time to slate that other thirst that was slowly building deep down within the belly of each meatgirl, the intense desire to gain some last moments of pleasure from their short lives. Their bodies moved delicately and not rushed, a gradual build-up until much later the eventual groans let me know that some of the meatgirls had finally reached the apex of their pleasure, mine followed shortly after, it was like a wave of unbridled rapture going through the storeroom, each meatgirl hanging from their bound wrists afterwards in a deep euphoria, contented in their delight, the final waves still reverberating throughout their bodies, until tired from their exertions they all eventually slipped into a peaceful slumber.
The feeding tube woke me in the morning; it had been a blissful night's pleasure and sleep on my part, and I swallowed down the fluid that the system gave the meatgirls to maintain their bodies. My mind again began to wonder, first as to why I was here, then realising that was a silly question on my part, where else would I want to be, other than tightly bound down to the bed upstairs in our apartment, being taken by my husband and then a few guests that he’d invited, but that was just my evil fantasy brain thinking.
Once I had gotten that image, nice as it was, out of my mind, I came back to the question of being bound inside the storeroom during the week, surely he wouldn’t want to risk leaving me here should one of the other workers find me. To them I would be just another meatgirl to be sold, they may not see or take notice of the sold sticker on my breast, that was if it was still there, as I had managed to work up quite a lot of moisture last night, and not just between my legs.
The door to the storeroom opened and I thought that maybe I would soon be free and that Ollie and Matt had conspired together to tease me. I listened to see who had walked into the room, but no voice was heard, just the movement as one of the meatgirls was picked up and carried from the room, then back to darkness and silence. Shortly again the door opened and another meatgirl was taken, this time from behind me, and again I was ignored and left. My thoughts were running wild at this point, was this one of the other workers, or would I be sold as well?
Just as that thought ran through my mind the door opened again and this time the hands did grab me from my position on the hook, I was roughly thrown over the shoulder of the person and then carried from the room and out to the shop. Here they dropped me down onto the hard surface of what I guessed was the preparation table, and then without speaking they began binding me for delivery. Whoever was doing it was very skilled at handling meatgirls, though they were a bit brutal with my body, I’m sure that’ll I have bruises later afterwards, that's if there was an afterwards to look back on this experience.
In short order I found myself tightly trussed up, the ropes pulled extra taut, constricting, denying me any chance of movement of my body, I was now just a meatgirl package ready for the customer to take with them. It all happened again so fast that I was in shock, not only in that I had been taken, grabbed from the storeroom and treated this way, though being tied up like this was delicious, it was the fact that I had laid there and not objected to whoever was doing this to me and basically allowed them to process me as nothing more than a commodity to be sold, did I really want to do this?
But I didn’t have time to ponder that question as hands then grabbed my trussed-up body and carried me out towards the front door of the shop, it appeared to me that I’d really been sold and was now on my last journey, about to find out what being a meatgirl was truly all about. The sound of the door opening let me know that I would soon be out in the street, in public, naked, bound and gagged, but to anyone looking on I was just another meatgirl, but deep down inside of me I felt the humiliation of being seen like this. That seemed to be the most pressing concern to run through my mind at that moment, more so than the actual fact that once through the doorway I would never return, my last chance to save myself was near and if I didn’t do something now, then, as I thought, it would be all over for me.
But I just hung there in the ropes binding me, a slight shudder went through my body, and a little knot of frenzied need took root in my belly and found my core being, pushing out any desire for me to be free, the fire seemed to spread out rapidly across my body, I couldn’t remember being this aroused before, I was shuddering, shaking uncontrollably and grunting behind my gag as a massive wave overtook my tightly bound form, the orgasm rose up from deep within my belly and sending waves of delight through my entire being.
The person carrying me stopped when they felt the movement of my body, I guess they were watching what I was doing, trying to determine what had just happened, was I protesting at being taken or, as they suspected, just climaxed at the thought of being taken off to whatever dire fate awaited me. The person holding my bound body never spoke, but once they could see that I had finally settled down as the last waves crashed through my body, they carried on walking over to the waiting vehicle, placing my bound body inside on the floor and closing the rear doors.
The sound of the vehicle's doors closing and then moving off let me know that I was on my way, I hoped that whoever had bought me enjoyed what I considered top-grade quality, and I hoped that they weren’t disappointed with their purchase. Of course, now bound and placed in the back of the vehicle I guessed that my husband Ollie had either gotten tired of me, maybe he had found someone more normal, and that this was the best way to kill two birds with one stone, granting me my final fantasy and removing me from his life, out of the way for the new woman, I hoped that he’d be happy.
The vehicle stopped a couple of times, and other meatgirls who were in the back with me were taken to their customers, so I must be in the delivery van doing the daily run, and I wondered when my own turn would come. It wasn’t long after that I found out, the vehicle again stopped and my bound form was grabbed and again carried, I could just make out the vague shapes with the hood covering my head, but I could not see where I was being taken. Once inside the building I finally heard the first voice since I had been captured and bound sometime yesterday.
“You can place that over there.” the female voice told the delivery person.
Then my trussed-up body was put down on a cold hard surface, and then just left, whoever had delivered me just departed, just as silent as when I was taken from the shop. I lay there for a while, listening to the sound of someone moving about and then just talking, I guessed on the phone. To them I was just an object, she had called me ‘that’ like I was just a thing and not a living, breathing woman. Shortly though that was about to change, the sound of footsteps approached where I lay and the ropes binding me got tight again as I was picked up and carried off.
The footsteps of the person carrying me echoed off the walls, the woman was wearing heels, and the sound of them clip-clopping on the hard floor bounced off of the walls. She seemed used to dealing with packages like mine and handled me with ease. Then the sound changed slightly and we must have left a corridor and entered a room, there were sudden gasps as I was carried in, they all sounded female and I wondered who they were, was I their next course? Maybe this was some kind of cookery class.
The woman carrying me placed me down on another hard surface and left me there, I could hear the women around me murmuring about how I was bound, how tight it looked, and just how delicious it was, though no hands were touching my body, they seemed content to look and comment on how I was trussed up. Their conversations were finally interrupted when another, more commanding sounding woman, entered the room.
“I see that our final item has arrived, a bit unusual, but not too outlandish,” she said, then instructed whoever was with them to remove my hood.
A pair of hands made short work of the fastening around my neck and the hood was quickly removed, again the women sitting around me gasped when they saw the gag, and several commented about it. I looked around from my place on the table and saw that there were several women seated around the room. It seemed that we were in some sort of waiting area, and then I caught sight of two women standing off to one side, one still holding the hood that she had just removed from me.
“So glad that you could join us, dear,” the older woman said to me with a smile on her face, “my, you do look like a very delicious meatgirl, something that will roast well in the oven, and taste even better.” That left me thinking that I was on the menu for all these women.
“Well ladies, as you can see, this is what a true meatgirl looks like, tightly trussed up, hopelessly unable to get free, and just waiting for the roasting pan.” she laughed, and several of the women joined in.
“But that’ll come later, first we need to get things ready, there's a lot of preparations to do,” she continued, “so once you’re all ready please go through the door over there.”
The women one by one then began standing and moving to the door indicated, the first one seemed to be nervous about what was behind the door but with some encouragement from the others they all began walking through. I thought that maybe that was either the kitchen or dining room and I would be taken there shortly, maybe the older woman would get her assistant to carry me. But once the last of the women had gone through the door, they then turned their attention to me.
“Right then, let’s get you ready.” the older woman said. “Untie her,” she said to her assistant.
Once the last of the ropes had been removed I was moved around and told to sit on the table. Finally, the gag was removed and I was given a glass of water to drink from, I didn’t realise just how thirsty being bound and gagged for so long had made me, and I downed the water, all the while looking from one woman to the other, wondering what was going on.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“You’re at the meatgirl processing plant, didn’t you know.” the older woman told me.
“No, I have no idea what is going on,” I replied.
The older woman checked her notes, “Ah, yes I see, this was booked by your husband, something he said was a surprise, so I guess that you haven’t a clue where this is or what we do.”
“Something like that, what surprise has he arranged for me?” I asked.
“Well, judging by the unusual way that you arrived I would have guessed that you like being a meatgirl, that’s what we do here, for women like you who want to become a meatgirl and go through the production process,” she told me.
“What, really, there are other women out there who'd like to become a meatgirl?”
“Yes, there are plenty of them, that’s our function here, we fulfil their wishes and desires,” she replied.
“So those other women that I saw will be meatgirls themselves soon?” I asked.
“Well, yes of course, we are a meatgirl facility, but what we do here is only the processing part, getting you girls ready and prepared to experience your desires to become a meatgirl. You see this an old facility that many years ago used to be a meatgirl processing plant; back in the pre-clone days, females would be brought here, either by choice or otherwise, and then they would be checked, graded, and then prepared before being auctioned off and sold,” she said, matter of factly, “Sadly the government stepped in and closed it, turned the industry over to the clone factories, so now we just process willing meatgirls like yourself.”
“But what if I don’t want to be eaten?” I replied.
“Don’t be silly, all meatgirls want to be eaten, but that is not part of what we do here, as you’ll soon find out,” she told me.
“What the…” I began, but the woman cut the conversation short.
“Seems like we have a reluctant meatgirl in our midst. Do we need to use force on you, or will you comply?” As the woman spoke, two larger women entered and looked very menacing, I know that I couldn’t take on four women, so meekly shook my head and walked over to the door, and whatever waited beyond.
Once through the door, I could see that the women who had been in the previous room were now naked, their clothing gathered and placed into storage boxes, and now standing inside a large caged-off area to one side. The two burly women then entered behind me, their hands grabbing me and they moved me over to stand with the others and then closed the cage door, locking us inside.
“Right ladies,” one said, “any of you bitches want to play up when we begin will get this.” She held up a metal prod, the end of which sparked blue with electricity, the air crackling as she pulled the trigger on the device and she laughed at our reactions.
Then the other one spoke, “I think we’ll start with you, the troublemaker,” she said looking at me.
Opening the cage door I nervously walked out, still not sure where I was or what I was doing here. I stood where I was directed to stand and watched as metal cuffs were fastened around my ankles and then my wrists. Once secured I was easily lifted up by her and carried over to a metal frame, the cuffs attached to the frame leaving me spread-eagle on the device and totally open to her hands groping my body, which she seemed to take great delight in.
Then both women lifted the frame up to the chain waiting menacingly above, and once it was attached they pressed a button and I was moved by the machinery along what must once have been the production line towards a large metal cabinet, with the ominous sound of the chain rattling above, the cold grey concrete floor below, if felt so industrial, impersonal and made me feel much more like a product to be processed than when I was kept in the storeroom.
One of the women laughed as I shrieked when the frame moved, “Best keep that big mouth shut bitch,” she warned.
It was only when I entered the cabinet of the machine did I really find out the reason she said that to me, several powerful jets of cold water suddenly hit my body from all angles, and I swallowed some of the foul-tasting liquid before I firmly shut my mouth, and closed my eyes as they now stung. Once that was done, another round of spray hit me in every spot of my defenceless body, bound as I was there was no way to escape. it seemed to find every inch of my being. One more final spray, which I guess was the rinse and I was moved on, the hot air blowers blasting the liquid from my body.
Suddenly I felt something totally different, as the hot air blew across my body I felt very sensitive, my skin tingled, like after I had used some sort of hair removal cream. I realised what had just happened: all of my hair was now gone, I was bald from top to bottom, just like the meatgirls back in the shop. It came as a bit of a shock, this seemed so real and I was finally becoming what my weird desires had always been leading up to. But without regard to the current meatgirl, formerly just another woman, the process line continued and another cabinet was getting closer.
It was dark inside once I had fully entered the machine, the doors closing behind me cutting off the light of the factory. Then as I looked around to see what indignities this machine would inflict, I saw a beam of red light in a line start to run over my body, it seemed to be scanning me, the light taking in every inch of my being, running over my soft curves, I held still as it covered my bound form and closed my eyes when it finally reached my head.
This was very scary, I imagined the laser then coming back to process me into smaller portions, visions of the laser cutting through my flesh, searing my limbs as it made smaller portions of me. Shaking I held still, not that I had much movement anyway, what had I been signed up to, did my husband know what was happening to me?
Was I now just a proper meatgirl?
The scanning stopped and things went dark again, then I felt a slight burning sensation, more of an itch that I couldn’t scratch than painful, but it was all over just as quickly as it had begun. This was followed by another round but I couldn’t see or even imagine what this machine was doing to me.
The doors opening on the other side let me know that this machine was finished with me and I was on my way to whatever was next in this place. The production line then moved me through some plastic screens and I found that two other large, robust women were waiting for my arrival. Grabbing hold of the frame, they must have pressed some release button as the metal cuffs detached themselves from the frame and I was now held by their strong arms as I recovered my balance.
While I was still slightly stunned, one of the women placed a clip between the metal cuffs on both my ankles and wrists, I was now bound again it seemed. Then the other held up a familiar item that I was so used to, the ball-gag pressed firmly into my open mouth and the straps pulled tightly around my head. The whole process was over in less than a minute it seemed to me, they certainly were very efficient when handling meatgirls.
“Good girl, glad that you didn’t struggle.” One of the women said, “Right then, let’s get you settled into your new home.”
She grabbed my bound wrists and threw me over her shoulder like I was nothing to her, and then she walked off with me dangling over her back, still wondering what was going on and where I was. The walk was short and soon I was placed down on my feet again, she held my wrists and lifted them and I could see another familiar item as my wrists were fastened to the hook overhead, and with a slap to my rear, she left me there.
As I looked around it seemed that I was in some form of storage area, there were several holding pens, each one looked identical to the other, but all were currently empty, though not for long, as each of the women was processed they joined me in my pen, each one gagged and bound like me. I then noticed as I looked at their bodies that they too had no hair anywhere, it seemed that the machine had been very competent in removing it all.
Continuing to look at their bodies I also noticed that they all now had some sort of bar code etched on their bodies, one above their left breasts and the other at the base of the spine and behind their back, it seemed that we had all been marked as stock, we were now officially registered as meatgirls I guessed. We even had a grading mark which was also permanently marked on our bodies, that’s something that would be coming off I thought, unlike the ink stamps we used back in the shop.
The last woman had finally been processed and we were all now contained in one pen, the two women who had carried us all from the production line entered the pen and conducted a final examination of the meatgirls that had been processed, their hands groping at the bared breasts and their fingers finding their way further south. When they got to me, the woman remarked on just how wet this particular bitch was. What can I say, I was very aroused at this point and moved myself closer to her hand as she roughly probed my internal parts.
“Kinky bitch!” she winked, and then removed her hand.
Then once done they both left the pen and closed the gate, leaving us all contained inside, our wrists held above our heads to the hooks, the feeding tubes firmly attached and now giving us the first taste of the liquid feed that maintains the meatgirls, though this wasn’t pleasant tasting like the one back in the storeroom, but something that would sustain and keep the meatgirls while they waited for whatever was to come next, maybe the auction as the older lady had briefly mentioned.
Morning came, I awoke after a long night trying to sleep, well these meatgirls didn’t seem to know what really goes on inside the storeroom, so it was when I tried to initiate some sort of movement, the other women just moved their bodies away from mine, so there was no satisfactory outcome to lull me into a deep slumber. The feeding tube sprang to life and I looked around at the faces of the other women as they got to experience the taste, which made me laugh. I wonder when they signed up to become meatgirls did they realise just what they were in for.
The sound of the gate opening made me turn and look, the four larger women were standing there, along with the older one, who I guess was the owner or supervisor of this place, and her assistant who was in the office when I was delivered, they were taking stock of what they were seeing, eyeing up the stock in the holding pen, the meatgirls in my pen all now looking at them.
“Right ladies, time for some exercise, we need to tone those muscles up, we cannot have anything other than top-quality meatgirls leaving here.” the older woman said, “These ladies will take each of you out to the exercise yards, where you spend the day working on getting your bodies ready to be prime product.”
After the metal cuffs around our ankles were separated, we were gradually all herded out of the pen, the sound of the electric prods ringing in our ears letting us know not to dally, otherwise we would find out what it feels like. Once in the yard, each one was attached by a collar to a cross beam of the metal framework, the short chain connected from the collar to the frame would ensure that we all remained in place. Then once ready it started to move and pull on everyone’s collar, some stumbling initially but gradually everyone started walking in step and adjusting to the pace.
We were left out there for what seemed like many hours, with one or two of the female handlers making sure that we kept up, their hands slapping those who seemed to slack off the pace. Finally, the machine stopped moving, we were unfastened from the frame, but the collars remained, they would stay on we were told. We were again herded back inside towards the holding pens, but on the way each woman went through what I can only describe as a cattle wash, the jets of cold water washing away the sweat that we had worked up outside as we exercised.
Once back in the pen, the feeding tubes were connected and each woman hungrily sucked down the limited amount of fluid that they gave us. The rest of the day was spent inside the holding pen, it was only later that the handlers returned and did their final inspection, their hands and fingers again fondling the livestock under their care, and again I must admit that I was as hot and wet as before, the aches deep in my belly was not from hunger for food, but some other need.
The female handler found out when she shoved her fingers roughly between my legs, I moved my limbs apart to allow her easier access, and she smiled at my reaction to her groping. Her fingers probing further found out that my juices were flowing, my pussy was hot and wanting, and if she continued in doing what she was to my sex, I would soon burst, but she laughed and removed her hands before I had the chance to get anywhere close, she left me wanting with the parting words ringing in my ears, “Slut, you like this don’t you?”
The next morning was another day full of exercise, we were left out there for far longer now that we were used to the machine. At the end of the day when we were brought back to the holding pen, my muscles were sore and aching from working out for so long, something that I certainly wasn’t used to. Again the handlers ‘inspected’ the meatgirls, fixing them in place and attaching the feeding tubes to our gags. Their fingers again checking out those parts of our bodies generally reserved for more intimate times, there was no real finesse in their actions, and I suspected that they got off tormenting the meatgirls in their charge. I was again singled out by one particular handler who seemed very delighted to still find me aroused and receptive to her touch, but again I was left wanting, humping my crotch in thin air as she removed her hand, while laughing at my reaction.
The third day was the same, more exercise, more abuse when placed back in the holding pen, and again I was picked on by the same female handler, even if I hoped that she would take pity on me and allow me some form of pleasure, I was wrong. The sound of the metal gate closing on the pen let the meatgirls know that another long night was ahead of us. Luckily I had been placed next to another more ‘experienced’ meatgirl, who seemed to know what happens in the storeroom after dark.
But if I thought that I would finally get to enjoy myself, my special meatgirl time in the holding pen with another like-minded meatgirl, I was again to be mistaken. Just as I settled down and started to enjoy the feeling of the other warm body rubbing against my own, the creaking of the metal gate let us know that someone had returned. The female handler came over to where I was, I thought that maybe she had seen what we were doing and had come to stop us, but that wasn’t her plan it seemed.
She grabbed hold of my body and lifted me off of the hook, throwing me over her shoulder she carried me out of the pen. She continued walking until she entered a side room, this must be where she stays as she works inside the facility I guessed. There was some basic furniture inside the room, with a mattress on the floor over to one side, and I wondered what she was planning to do with me. I would soon find out.
I remained bound and gagged as her rough hands began to explore my body, squeezing my breasts and pulling hard on my nipples, causing me to cry out in pain, she then told me to shut up and enjoy with a slap to my face. I was like putty in her hands, she seemed to know just what buttons to push on my body, I was totally helpless to stop what she was doing to me anyway, as she kept me bound and her strong hands didn’t allow any resistance from me. Her fingers soon found out just how aroused I was at the way that she was abusing my body.
She continued to abuse my body, taking great delight in inflicting pain while also working up my own arousal, my body betraying me and my desires to find any pleasure from my current position. Her fingers reached deep into my stretched pussy, pushing ever deeper and seeking out something, which when her fingers found the right spot caused me to orgasm hard on her hand, she laughed and called me a deviant slut as I continued to work myself against her digits buried deep inside me.
But it didn’t stop, as she continued her corruption of my body, the hands and fingers continued their assault, at one point she moved her own body over mine, my face held tightly against her musky crotch as she rubbed herself against me, thankfully the gag remained in place otherwise I may have actually joined in and used my tongue to seek out those womanly parts currently mashing against my face.
When she was finally done and sated in her own sexual perversions, abusing the poor bound meatgirl in her care to slate her own needs, as well as mine I must admit, I was again thrown over her shoulder and taken back to the holding pen, where she hung my wrists from the hook and with a final slap on my rear, left my sore, and thoroughly debauched body to recover from what she had done to me. I had been used and discarded by her, a plaything, now finished with and put away.
The next morning was the same, we were all herded out to exercise for the entire day, and then back to the holding pen in the evening after going through the cattle wash, left again sucking down the meagre fluids to try to quench the thirst that we had built up during the day. Tired from all of the exercise and the pounding that my body had taken last night, I was ready to just fall asleep, worn out and exhausted.
Just as I was reaching the point of deep sleep I felt the now familiar fingers again on my body, the rough female hands grabbing me around my waist and lifting me free of the hook, again thrown over the shoulder like a sack of meat, I was taken away from the comfort and warmth of the other meatgirls to face another long night of abuse and sexual torment. I just lay there over the shoulder, not wanting to move, I was now just a commodity for her to use.
Once inside the room the same mistreatment of my poor, aching body, wringing out orgasms from somewhere deep inside of me, I could only lay there and take what she was doing to me and cry out when the shuddering climax hit my still bound body. Then the sound of the door opening threw everything out of the window, the sound of a woman’s voice was heard above the moans coming from me and my abuser.
“What the hell is going on here?” The sound of the supervisor stopped what was going on.
My face was currently buried deep between the thighs of the female handler, my face pushed tightly against her very wet and musky sex, she had been getting very close to her own climax by the sounds that she had been making, but now everything suddenly stopped.
“Urm! I was just punishing this meatgirl…” she tried to excuse what she was caught doing to me.
The supervisor seemed to be very angry at catching her abusing me, so maybe this was something that wasn’t part of the meatgirl processing, though I was now thoroughly tenderised. “Get out!” she shouted.
The hot body of the handler jumping off made me feel the chill in the air, and not only from the temperature but the way that her boss appeared to be angry at seeing her abusing one of the meatgirls told me that this was frowned upon.
“OUT!” she shouted when the handler tried to excuse her behaviour, “I will deal with you later.”
Once the handler had left the room, the supervisor walked over to check on me. I still hadn’t moved from where I was laying, she at first thought that I had been suffocated by having the much larger woman sitting on my face, but was relieved when she saw me still breathing. Her much softer hands touched my naked flesh, and she moved me around on the table that I was currently lying on top of and had me sit on a chair, then she removed the gag from my mouth and offered me some water, which I readily accepted.
“My dear, I must apologise for what one of my handlers has been doing to you, this is intolerable and she will be dealt with severely in the morning.”
Then continued as I drank some more water, “This is not part of the processing, we do not condone this sort of behaviour, you’re meant to enjoy your experience here not be subject to the perverse desires of the staff members.”
“Wait, what? I’m supposed to enjoy you turning me into a meatgirl, to be taken and sold at auction?” I finally managed to say, still unsure what was going on here.
“No, not sold, never, we don’t do that, we don’t actually go as far as the sale and consumption, but what we do here is just the processing. You see this facility used to be a meatgirl processing plant, females would be brought here, they would be checked, and then prepared before being auctioned off and sold.” she said, repeating what she had told me beforehand, “But what we now provide is a safe way for women, like yourself, who have fantasies and desires to be a meatgirl, to go through the whole process without actually ending their days in an oven somewhere.”
“So the women here are all volunteers?” I asked.
“Well, they all paid to be here, but yes they submitted themselves to our care and the program that we run to give them the experience, and thrill, of being a meatgirl, and treated like one,” she answered.
“They pay you to be put through this?” I queried, “And the hair loss?”
“Oh, that’s only temporary, it’ll quickly grow back and we provide them all with a wig of their choice when they leave until it does. It’s all part of the deluxe package that you and they signed up for,” she told me. But seeing the look on my face, she continued, “You did sign up for this, didn’t you?”
“Well, no I guess that I didn’t, as far as I was concerned this place actually processed women into real meatgirls,” I replied.
“Oh my, I’m very sorry to hear that, but pleased that you thought it so realistic, but then who would have done this to you?” she asked me.
I then told her what had happened to me when I was called home early, only to be stripped and held overnight in the storeroom with the other meatgirls, then trussed up like you saw and delivered here.
She listened intently to what I told her, then said, “I do seem to recall a booking coming in, something about a birthday gift, though we often get those, so now it all seems to make sense why you were bound and delivered like that.”
“Seems like my husband has been planning this behind my back!” I laughed.
The supervisor seemed to be relieved that I wasn't unhappy with my time here and the way that I had been treated, she again apologised for what her worker had done to me, telling me that whatever I needed she would be more than happy to oblige. She told me that she would free me immediately seeing that I hadn’t actually consented to my being here, but I stopped her before she started to free me, and we spoke for a while afterwards, and she agreed that she would help me any way that she could.
The next morning came, all of the meatgirls in the pen were woken up by the feeding system again, and they all expected another day of arduous exercise lay ahead for them, but I knew different as the supervisor had told me what the rest of my time here would consist of. The female handlers began taking each of the meatgirls off of the hooks and carrying them out of the pen, the one that had been abusing my body stayed away from me and one of the other handlers threw me over her shoulder and carried me away.
We were back at the processing line, again each meatgirl was placed inside the metal frame, then hoisted up to catch on the chain that carried them away through the automated machines. My turn came and I was soon carried aloft, looking forward to what was coming next. After the cleaning and scanning were done, each meatgirl found their metal cuffs removed, to be replaced by ropes binding their limbs, both wrists and ankles were tightly fastened.
The final act was to place a hood over the heads of each meatgirl, securing it in place with the zip-tie strap around the neck, though not pulled any tighter than needed so as not to restrict their breathing, now all blinded by the cloth bag covering their heads, they were ready for the next stage in the process.
All were then hauled to another holding pen until all were finally ready. Then, one by one, each was carried out of the pen and out through a loading dock to a waiting truck, where their wrists were attached to one of the hooks inside the vehicle and their bodies were pushed further down inside until each meatgirl was firmly up against another. The gags that remained firmly in our mouths, muted any objection to the way that we were being handled.
Once the last of the meatgirls was loaded, the rear doors were closed, the truck engine started and we were on our way to our next destination, the handlers teasing the meatgirls as they loaded them that they were off to the auction house to be sold. Some of the girls cried in despair at the thought that they were actually about to become what they had long fantasised about, and others just shook in fear at the prospect, though I quite enjoyed the ride, having experienced something like this before, and I knew where we were going to end up when the truck stopped.
After driving around for a while, the truck eventually stopped, the sound of the vehicle reversing let the meatgirls in the back know that we were at our destination. It was all silent for a while, except for the occasional sobbing from one or two of the girls, then the rear doors opened and we were carried out from the vehicle, the sound that they heard as they were carried made them think that they were now at the auction house.
Each one was then placed inside a storeroom, much like the one we have back in the shop, so it was very warm and welcoming when I was placed inside, this was familiar ground to me, my own safe space and somewhere I had spent endless hours enjoying the pleasures of being just another meatgirl. Once everyone was unloaded the storeroom door was closed, plunging the room into darkness, whoever had handled the meatgirls had not spoken or made a sound, so we had no idea where we were, and the final sound of the lock closing letting all those contained inside that they were now stuck here, this was now their home.
The feeding tube gave them one of their final meals, as each meatgirl hung from her bound wrists from the hooks above them, the air started to become chillier, and each then moved closer to the others next to them to gain some warmth and comfort in their final hours. Again I was lucky that I had been placed with the one meatgirl who had experienced this before and we began the erotic dance that the meatgirls do when they are left alone.
The others started to catch on and they slowly began to rub their own bodies on the others around them, eventually, they began to realise the pleasure in our actions and one by one they moaned and whimpered as their own arousal built inside of them, each grinding harder to get more pleasure from the next meatgirl until their bodies shaking from their own arousal, shuddered and bucked against each other as the waves of their orgasms struck them, the soft moans of contentment finally dying off as each one drifted to sleep, exhausted but happy.
The next morning the feeding system again woke everyone up inside the storeroom, each meatgirl swallowing down the fluid like nectar, quenching the thirst from their exertions overnight. The door finally opened and the light returned, as each meatgirl was removed from the storeroom, and taken away, I guessed some of the girls thought that they were off to be sold, but they eventually found themselves being taken back to the waiting area that they had first arrived at.
Here each one was freed from the ropes binding them, the hoods removed to reveal that they were all safe and sound back in the processing facility. Once there they were giving their clothing back and their choice of hairpiece to wear home, they were all offered the first real solid food that they’d had for the week and heartily filled their bellies with what was on offer. The supervisor spoke to them and asked them about their experiences and hoped that they had enjoyed themselves, when they were finally ready they started to filter out back into the real world outside.
Once they had gone, the supervisor turned and spoke with the two handlers who were responsible for the meatgirls while they were kept in the holding pens, she gave them both a stern lecture about their behaviour, and though she expected that some handling of the meatgirls was to be expected, what one of them had done had gone too far, she told the handler that she had considered firing her, but after speaking with the woman that she had abused had decided not to, this time she stressed.
As punishment for their actions, she told them that there was something that needed clearing up before they were to finish for the day, and they both headed down to the storeroom, closely followed by the supervisor. When they got there and opened the door they got a shock at what waited for them there; hanging from a hook was a meatgirl, still bound and hooded, they thought that they had taken them all out, but this one was still there.
Looking closer, they saw that the meatgirl had a ribbon tied in a bow around the waist, they were confused and turned back to the supervisor for answers.
“Seems that our meatgirl here didn’t want to leave without thanking her handlers, so she’s offering this gift to you, herself, think of it as a bonus from me for all the work that you put in.” She smiled, and turned to leave, but then said, “Don’t break her, she’s off to the wholesalers tomorrow, so she needs to be in good condition when she leaves here.”
She then left, the two handlers soon took charge of the meatgirl waiting there for them, and it was a very sore and abused, but very satisfied meatgirl that was re-hung back inside the storeroom much later that night. The two handlers had taken great pleasure in using their plaything and had worn themselves out, but were happy to keep their jobs and hoped for some more special bonuses like this in the future.
The morning came and I was hauled out of the storeroom, my body limp and still sore from last night, but sated in my own needs and desires, I was quickly washed down and then taken out to the truck, slung over the shoulder of one of the handlers, on the way I was taken through where the next batch of meatgirls was currently waiting their turn at experiencing their time as a meatgirl. I could hear them mutter and the sounds of deep breaths as they saw my naked, bound body being taken out to the truck, there I was hung from a hook inside and then was closed inside.
The supervisor smiled as she watched my limp body being carried over the shoulder of one of the handlers like I was nothing more than produce to be carted and processed, and she spoke to the ladies currently waiting, telling them where I was heading off to, many more gasps came from their mouths, and then she said, “Don’t worry ladies, that’s the ultimate package, not the one you’re all about to experience.”
The truck delivered me to the wholesaler, there another truck was waiting with its load of meatgirls, and once I was placed inside the vehicle moved off. Eventually reaching its destination, each meatgirl, including myself, was unloaded, scanned and then placed inside the storeroom. All of the new delivery was already tagged, graded and bound wrist and ankles, the feeding tubes attached to the gags and the hoods hiding their faces from the workers in the shop. To them, this was a normal delivery, part of the stock that they would eventually sell.
I was quite happy where I was, this was something that I had longed for to happen to me, though it would have been nice to spend some time at the wholesalers, but as the supervisor pointed out even she couldn’t guarantee my safety if I was placed inside one of the pens there, so I would have to be satisfied with what I had managed to organise with her. I was now safely stored away, waiting with the other meatgirls for the sound of the lock closing letting us know that the store was now closed and our erotic dance could start.
Meanwhile, upstairs in our apartment Ollie was getting more concerned as the day wore on, he had expected me to be home sometime during the day, either very angry at what he had planned for my birthday or delighted with the way things had gone, he hoped for the later outcome. He had watched absent-mindedly the delivery of the meatgirls, his thoughts elsewhere, he had left it to the delivery driver to unload along with one of his other workers, they had quickly and efficiently placed the new stock inside the storeroom, and they had even managed to sell one of the new batch as they brought them from the truck.
Now the store was closed and it was getting dark outside, but there was still no sign of his wife returning. Extremely worried now he finally decided to check and called the processing facility to see just where I was. Finally, he managed to get through to the staff there, only to be told that the previous batch of meatgirls had all been released at lunchtime. This news had him very concerned as to where I was, was I playing a trick on him or had I been injured on my way home.
Putting the phone down, he didn’t know what to do at this point. Then the phone rang, and he heard the voice of the woman who ran the facility, “I believe that you’re missing something.” she said, “How can I help?”
“Well, can you tell me that my wife is safe,” he asked. “And that she’s not still there.”
“Oh she’s no longer with us, I can assure you of that.” the woman answered him, “She left this morning, I saw her with my own eyes.” And smiled again at the vision that she had witnessed.
“Where is she then?” Ollie asked, desperate to find out, thinking that this woman was teasing him by what she was saying. Then he heard her laughter.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“It seems that you don’t keep an eye on what stock you have, what sort of inventory control do you have over there?” she asked him.
“What do you mean, and what has that got to do with…” he said, then realising what the woman was hinting at.
“I suggest that you check on your storeroom,” she suggested, “And I hope that you haven’t managed to sell any of the deliveries that you had today.”
“But, we did, just one… ” he answered, the last words he heard from the woman was “Oh my.” He threw the phone down and rushed downstairs.
Throwing open the storeroom door he looked inside at the meatgirls as they hung there, their little moment of pleasure interrupted suddenly, stopping their movements as the light came on. Ollie entered looking at the meatgirls, though he couldn't see if his wife was in there, they all looked identical, even down the barcodes on their bodies, they all just looked to him like meatgirls, part of the stock. He thought that the woman had been tricking him, maybe something that his wife and she had cooked up, and walked back upstairs to speak to her again.
Luckily she had waited on the phone, herself concerned that I had been missed when I was delivered, she had thought that I would have been discovered, but the sold sticker that had been applied to my body had fallen off in the back of the truck, so to anyone looking in I was now just like all the other meatgirls. When she finally heard Ollie pick up the phone again, she asked, “Did you find her?”
“No, she’s not there, I just checked and it’s only meatgirls inside the storeroom, are you playing some sort of game with me? Did my wife put you up to this?” He was frustrated that this was some sort of revenge for the way that I had been handled.
“I can assure you that this is not a game, this is something that your wife expressly asked me to do for her, she wanted to surprise you by being delivered with the other meatgirls, so she should be there, one of my handlers personally saw to it that she was loaded safely with the delivery. If there’s any problem, it’s at your end, I should have thought that you’d recognise your own wife, especially as she wore a sold sticker, which I believe from our conversion was a safety signal that you used.”
“There was no sold sticker,” he answered.
“Then I suggest you go back down and check again, hopefully she is still there, otherwise…” The phone then went dead, and he put the phone in his pocket and headed back down to the storeroom, the door remained open and the light on in his haste, which stopped me from reaching my goal, denied again for now.
Ollie now made a closed inspection of the meatgirls in the storeroom, his hands running over each one, each meatgirl squealing at being touched like this so unexpectedly, until he reached my body, he examined me looking for the sold sticker, but there was none, he moved on to the next, getting more and more frustrated with not finding me, then worrying about the one that had been sold today, could that have been his wife.
His thoughts were interrupted when the phone rang, it was the woman from the facility, “I’ve spoken to my contact at the wholesalers, and yes she was delivered to your shop today, so hopefully she’s still there, have you checked them all yet?”
“Yes, I’m down here now, but there is no sold sticker to be found, it must have dropped off somewhere.” He replied, worried again about the one that they had sold.
“Well, in that case, check the stock for this barcode number, and let me know when you find it, as I have some further instructions for you.” She gave him the number that had been applied to my body at the facility. He started at the front and worked his way through the lineup of meatgirls, scanning each with the device to check the stock number that he had been given. When he got to me, he pressed the trigger and the device activated, revealing that I was still there.
“Hello, sounds like you’ve found her!” he heard from the phone.
“Yes, finally, thank you, I’m sorry for what I said…” he started to say, but was told to stop and listen.
“Right, now that you’ve found her, add the sold sticker, she told me that she wanted to remain locked away inside the storeroom for the rest of the week to punish you for cutting up her best office clothes, you’re not allowed to touch or remove her until the weekend, can you do that for her?” she told him in her best stern voice.
“I guess…” was his reply, feeling guilty about cutting her office wear, while getting carried away in binding her up and placing her in the storeroom.
Finally hanging up the phone, and happy that I was indeed safe and not sold, he found a sold sticker, and applying some glue that he managed to find, made sure that it stuck firmly in place. He knew my rule about not speaking to me when I was with the other meatgirls, I had to be treated the same as them, so he knew to just place the sticker and then leave. It would be a long week on his own, but he knew at the weekend that I would be his again, and he would keep me bound and gagged the entire weekend while he made thorough use of my body.
Of course, I became a regular customer at the processing facility, spending many wonderful times there, being kept as a meatgirl along with the others. They even took up some of my suggestions, like the one where they turn down the temperature in the storeroom so that the meatgirls inside have to get closer to the others and hopefully begin the erotic dance that I so love. I even took over for the owner Marjorie, while she went away for a break, running the program with the help of the handlers, it was quite fun to see that from the other side.
And every so often I would leave myself as a gift to the handlers, tied up and left in the storeroom after the rest of the women were freed from their meatgirl experience, especially one in particular, Madge, who certainly knew what buttons to press on my body, much to our mutual delight. Though I never went through the wholesalers again, it was deemed too risky, but I would get Madge to bundle me up and deliver me back to the shop, after she had finished with me of course, usually on Saturdays when Matt was running the shop, I would then get to spend the rest of the weekend inside the storeroom, indulging in my desires.
Hope that you like my tale, and sorry to those who wished for me to be cooked and eaten, well I was ‘eaten’ in one way or another, but that’s not part of my objectification fetish. Have fun and play safe.