u/LovingFrenchie

This is a reupload of my first and only story, I had issues with the old mail account so I prefered to delete everything tied to it, hope you'll enjoy it (again)

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Ding

Three notifications in less than 10 minutes, this is unusual to say the least but not unexpected. I have been waiting for these for a long time, the warning arrived a while ago, I’m surprised it took so long to be honest. The first message, the one I dreaded to receive came on my 20th birthday, 3 months ago, it was an official governmental communication: “Warning, you have not yet declared an owner, according to the Anti-Freeloader laws you have to find a man to take over your ownership or the proper governmental facilities will have to auction you to a disposal contractor or to a private bidder. You have until the next auction to rectify the situation.” This god damn Anti-Freeloader policy… the crash of the regular economy and the numerous epidemies coursing through the various food sources created an impossible situation in an all too numerous human population. Something had to be done to rectify the issues, the first thing to go was the already weak recent women’s right. It wasn’t a simple regression to dependency to a paternal figure, weather it be father or husband, but it was full-fledged subjugation, the men now owned the women in their lives as they became propriety. The only way for a woman to be truly free was like in the days of old: be a widow, and even then, she wasn’t really safe, she’d be under extremely dire economic stress as we are forbidden to work at all, free or owned. Orphaned girls such as myself are governmental property until ownership is transferred. There are various ways to become an owner: the most obvious ones are of course marriage and becoming a parent, but it was also legal to buy a woman without marrying her, she became an investment, inheritance was a common way to claim women. Richer lobbyist also campaigned on the parliament to allow duels for the ownership of women, with the hiring of champions obviously allowed.

It became worse when the first famines hit the western world, everything went down south so fast, rich men (the only ones with the right to vote now as householder election were put into place) did not hesitate long to elect a former meat processing industry magnate who campaigned on reducing women bellow humans, this has the advantage of allowing us to become like cattle as it technically wouldn’t be cannibalism. Owners began selling their women for a profit to restaurants and to the food industry, this included the government, one of its biggest source of revenue became the auctioning of female criminals and orphans who failed to enter the service of a man by age 20. I became an orphan when my father’s boss challenged him for the ownership of my sister, in the ensuing knife fight my owner got stabbed in the neck and my sister subsequently entered the service of a steel mill owner. My mother, by being a widow was technically free, but she had to provide for her and me. She knew she was done for, it was either her life or hers and mine as we would starve to death, so she did the only sensible thing to do: she sold herself to a snuff film director who disposed of her himself during the night and made a small profit with a . The money went to me as a dowry so my adult life would be better. I grew up protected by the government until I turned 18, I was supposed to get married soon thanks to the money I inherited. However time went on, and as I failed to seduce, or even meet an interested man, money ran dry and I lost my only appeal: my dowry.

I received the warning on my birthday but couldn’t do anything, since then I have lived with the fear I know what the text I just received says… I slowly take the phone out of my pocket and look at the screen. “You are summoned to your nearest auctioning office, please bring your ID. Your bidding session will begin at 20:30, arrive half an hour before.” My heart’s pounding, I’m not ready to be sold, to lose the few ounces of freedom I have left, and worst of all I do not want to be sold for meat, I really hope I’ll be bought for something else than food… but it’s unlikely. It all goes so fast, my mind’s so worried by what will happen next that my walk to the office goes in an instant. I present my ID to the officiant, am ordered to tie my hair behind my head and to strip. I have my height and weight measured, get rinsed quickly and am thrown on a stage. To my surprise the bidding is silent, this is probably to avoid the prize panicking if she finds out she’s been sold to be killed. After five silent minutes I am led away to a backroom to wait with other women aged from their early 20s to their late 50s, it is rare for one to live more than that these days. We don’t know if we’ve all been bought by the same buyer, which would be a bad sign, or if we’re just kept away waiting for the auction to end. Our worst fear is confirmed when we ear an agent say: “Alright group, the auction is over, please form two lines and follow me to the loading bay.”

A few of us break down in tears, others stay impassible, one even smiles, for my part I am petrified, I have to fight with all my will not to fall down, scream and cry, I do my best to walk to the truck waiting for us. As we get at the back, we all get our hands tied and get helped up inside. There again: silence, no one talks, we don’t care about each other, we only worry for ourselves. We drive for what feels like an eternity, the cold metal floor biting at our feet, the bench irritating out cheeks. Finally, we feel the truck come to a complete stop and the rolling door opens, I’m the third to get out, I’m greeted by a pure white tiled room and hit by an iron-like smell, still no one speaks, the only sounds we hear being our own breath and the mechanical clang and whistle of the machines. We are all lined up against a wall, I am put first on the left. A man clad in white, face covered by a surgical mask advances and speaks up: “Ladies hello, to make the process the least stressful and painful as possible we expect your entire cooperation, we will insert a vibrating device in your vaginas, this will provide you with sexual pleasure, helping you relax, if we see you are getting close to your climax we will lead you individually to a room where we will start the process when you reach your orgasm as it is at this moment your brain releases the most endorphins and relaxes your muscles, making the elimination and treatment of your meat easy. If you do not want to suffer, we advise you follow through our instructions.”

They gently insert a vibrating toy and make us sit in comfortable reclined chair; I think this is the best time I’ve had in a few years. Not even thirty seconds have passed that one of the most junior girls of the group begins to shake heavily and is made to stand up, she’s led by two guards but halfway towards a hallway her legs give in as she shakes more and more, a small puddle forming at her feet. The men carry her out of sight, after 10 seconds we hear wo faint thump sound. Soon the rhythm of women being led away increases, some fighting back, some eagerly compliant. One fights so much we hear her screams even as she is being chopped, her gurgled voice echoing through the whole factory. The same man in white as earlier says “And now you understand why we need your full cooperation; her meat will be subpar and will likely end up as dogfood.”

I feel my time coming as the pleasure rises, a moan escaping my lips takes the attention of a guard who comes up to me and gestures me to get up, I comply and follow him to the hallway, I see a series of openings, each leading to a room in which a girl is being processed, the sound of cutting, blood dripping and hoses cleaning tables and floor overwhelming my mind. I am taken to a room on the left, as I enter, I see an employee dressed as a butcher, protected by a plastic apron, glasses and the same mask as the man earlier. At the back of the room, I see two headless bodies hanging from a chain tied at their ankles being drained of their blood on a metal grid. At the middle of the room is a metal table, it is tilted head down, two leather hoops at the high point to hold my ankles and two to hold my wrists mid-height.

As my first orgasm crashes my legs arch and I begin to fall, the butcher helps the guard to put me on the table and to tie me secure so I don’t fight back, unfortunately the wave of pleasure has already subsided, waiting for the second one to come. I see him standing over me, he puts his left hand on my forehead, gently pressing on it to tilt my head so my throat is exposed, with his right arm he grabs a cleaver which he holds at about the height of his hips. The sight of the cold blade combined with the intense vibration in my pussy make me leak, my legs shake and as the biggest orgasm of my life arrives I scream a powerful “OH YEEE-” I am cut, surprised, by the fall of the cleaver on my throat. It cuts about a third of the way, sectioning my artery, sending blood everywhere over my face, my trachea is crushed and open, the air escaping from my lungs in my scream of joy not a second before now only pushing out buckets of blood. Before the red liquid reaches my eyes, I see him raise the blade a second time, it comes crashing down on me again but it gets caught in my spine, I feel him struggle to free the blade and as my consciousness begins to fade, drowned by pain, blood and an immense wave of pleasure, I feel my head fall with his last strike.

A fun date (art by Syou)

Small Zola collection

The Auction [reupload]