Lucinda

Please wait...

by Chewy

Lucinda moaned in torment around the hot spit in her mouth. The outlines of her tormenters were hazy behind the wall of heat-shimmering air in the roasting pit, or perhaps it was simply her eyes beginning to glaze over from the heat. The pain was lessening now as her nerves were cooked into silence. She was glad death was near, that her suffering was almost over. She felt herself grow sleepy as she turned over her fire, no longer even aware of her limbs turning a deeper brown as she cooked, nor the hiss of her dripping fat falling onto the coals below. With a last convulsive shudder she died, at peace at last.

Lucinda's journey to the oven started several weeks ago. She had run away from her poor family years before and made her way North to Los Angeles. She detested them and the thought of spending a life of drudgery, clawing her way through life one useless day at a time. The lights of the North promised an easier way, one of rich boyfriends and easy living.

Her dreams died a hard death over the next year. She lived as a run-away, surviving as a prostitute. Her youthful good looks and strong body allowed her to make a half-decent living turning tricks for truckers and the occasional frat boys. She was surviving, but she knew she could do far better if she only got a lucky break or two. More than one of the snotty college kids told her that she was beautiful, with the darkest eyes they had ever seen, two jet-black pools that sparkled like chips of obsidian. They loved her hot coppery skin and proudly sculpted face. She attended parties at their houses, pretending for a short time she was one of them, the lucky, easy rich. Her looks would get her out of here, and give her the things she had always wanted, the rich effortless life she occasionally glimpsed, only to see snatched away.

Nevertheless, the rich boys always faded away back to their nice homes and bright futures, leaving her back on the heartless streets. She was a whore after all, something to be used then discarded after the rutting was over. She was realistic enough to know that sooner or later her looks would fade and she would end up some tired old drudge, bitter and unwanted. Worse, she would get cut up by some freak or simply disappear like so many other unattached girls did, forgotten by everyone.

Her boyfriend, Hector, offered the solution. He was friends with some drug dealers in the barrio. He swore to Lucinda that all they had to do was help carry a load of coke over the border and their cut of the shipment would set them up fine. Lucinda doubted one load would be enough to get them out of their trap, but it was worth the risk. At least it would give her enough money to pretend for a time she was something better, one of the blessed ones. She was already planning the clothes and stuff she would buy and how she would rub her hot ass in the faces of her bitch friends who didn't have the guts to go out and get paid big time.

They picked up the stuff and headed north. They carried guns just in case, but to Lucinda's relief there were no problems. Hector teased her that she should hide the drugs up her crotch so it would be hot and extra spicy when they got home. Lucinda told him to stick it up his ass if he wanted to keep the stash warm. They both laughed, eager to get home and to get paid.

They did take time to sample a small bit of their cargo. The coke was really fine, and soon both were revved up and randy as monkeys. Lucinda's crotch was so hot that her panties started to soak under her jeans. She was so desperate for a quick fuck that she could barely stand it. From the bulge in Hector's pants she could see he was just as hungry. The two were so high and horny they stopped being careful and staggered through the desert night like drunken gauchos.

Both their hearts nearly stopped when the blinding lights shot out of the darkness and impaled them like noonday suns. Lucinda simple stood there, dazed and bewildered. She thought she screamed, but her voice was overwhelmed by Hector's furious cursing and the stern warnings of the border patrol to freeze. Hector ripped his shirt open and dragged out his gun, pointing it blindly towards the lights. There was a quick warning in an angry Anglo voice as Hector pulled the trigger. He was so stoned that he missed, his bullet whizzing past the electric lights and dark figures. Lucinda started to turn and run but the night was shattered by the roar of several guns. Out of the corner of her eye she saw bright fountains of blood blossom from her boyfriends chest, the ruby jets splattering onto the desert sands. He staggered back under the lead hail, a look of stupid disbelief on his face. He tried to say something, his words drowned in the frothy fluid pouring into his lungs. Without another sound he pitched backward, dead.

Lucinda definitely screamed then, not so much for Hector, but in the fear that it would be her body feeling the hammer hits of the Anglo guns. She raced back to whence she came, desperate to hide in the darkness like a frightened animal. The lights followed her, mercilessly tracking her every move. Within minutes, she heard pounding footsteps behind her then she felt her legs go out from beneath her as she was tackled, her face slamming into the hard grit of the promised land.

To her surprise, the agents did not beat or even abuse her despite the fact that her companion had just tried to shoot them. She was hauled to her feet and patted down. The officers found her gun, which they seized, then made her pull up her shirt. Their eyes glittered for a second as she exposed her midriff and firm bra-clad breasts. Despite her marginal living Lucinda had kept herself fairly healthy. Her stomach was firm, with just a bit of fat from too much junk food while her breasts were absolutely lovely. They were of modest size, but stood out proudly from her chest like almond-hued trophies. Her nipples were large and now hard from the chill night air and could be easily seen pressing against the sheer fabric of the white bra.

The plastic bags of powder taped to her stomach were removed and she was allowed to drop her shirt. She was frisked, with the man's hands lingering momentarily over her plush bosom and then at the warm valley between her legs. For a moment, she was disappointed that there was only a hint of interest in her as a helpless woman. A quick fantasy of being able to use her body to satisfy these men then being allowed to disappear back into the night crossed her mind. She certainly wouldn't mind too much; she was used to using her lovely figure as a means of getting her way and her loins still tingled with the coke coursing through her veins. The fantasy died as she felt the cuffs click over her wrists, sealing her fate.

She was brought back to the vehicles and seated in the back of one of the pick-ups. She yelled in protest when two of the burly men tossed Hector's body into the truck like he was a side of meat. They stared back at her with flat, emotionless eyes, unwilling to make any contact. She stared at the corpse at her feet, the dead staring eyes. She cared little that her friend was dead; she had seen many friends come and go in her short life. She simply cursed him for leading her into a trap, for once again screwing up. At least he didn't have to face time in jail, followed by a deportation back to the seedy poverty of her hometown. She wrapped her arms around herself in self-pity, silently cursing her fate.

She heard the guards talking by themselves several yards away in the darkness. One seemed to have a walkie-talkie and there was a quick discussion between the mean and whoever was on the other end. She heard the word 'Dolcett' a few times as well as them mentioning 'the ranch'. When the discussion ended, they came back and got into the trucks. One of the guards, the youngest among them gave her what almost seemed to be a pitying look. He seemed ready to speak, but an older man saw his expression and glared at him. The younger man quickly averted his gaze and got into the vehicle. Lucinda could have sworn she heard him mutter a 'good luck' under his breath as he got in, but he refused to look at her again as they speed off alone into the night.

To Lucinda's surprise, they did not head to the nearest town. Instead, they turned off on an unmarked road and headed into the mountains. The pickup drove deeper into the uninhabited hills, soon loosing itself in the dry ravines and steep canyons. The night air was cold and Lucinda hunched up to keep warm. She asked the guards where they going, but they maintained a stony silence. She began to grow concerned as they left civilization further and further behind. Despite being born in Mexico, Lucinda had always been a town girl and she grew nervous as the empty night closed tighter around her. Her fantasies of being raped by these men returned, but in a dark and sexless fashion. No longer did her loins tingle at the thought of pleasing these powerful strangers in return for her freedom. They were too far away from anywhere for them to simply let her go, if they raped her now, it would be to kill her and to leave her body to the hungry wolves that still roamed these quite mountains.

Lucinda gasped in relief when the pickup pulled into a secluded valley and she could see the bright lights of some large homestead below her. The yellow lights looked incredibly cheery after hours in the moonless night, the promise of fellow human beings and a chance at refuge. She barely noticed the electrified barbed wire fence surrounding the place, nor the watchdogs that padded silently by the truck as they drove to the rear of a large cement structure that looked something like a barn. The driver honked his horn and a tall, thickset man walked out a doorway towards them.

'Howdy Dave, gotya a nice one tonight.' The driver said in the same tone of voice he would use if he were discussing the weather.

The man walked over and began to look Lucinda over. He was an Anglo, with dark hair and an honest, rugged face. He stood well over six foot and had a powerful build, though with more than a bit of the extra weight that comes with middle age showing on his stomach. He moved with the unthinking ease of a man used to getting his way, confident, yet without the arrogance Lucinda usually saw in the tough hoods who ran the barrio where she lived. She could sense the guards deferring to this quiet man, their subordination implicit in their stances and low voices.

'Sure looks good, Dave admitted, 'let's get a better look.'

The two border guards got out and set Lucinda free. She got out of the truck, rubbing her wrists where they were chaffed and stretching from the long ride. All three men glanced hard at her as her bosom stretched against the thin fabric of her T-shirt. Lucinda held the stretch for a bit; hoping that putting on a small show might get her treated better. She was disappointed. The younger man still refused to meet her eye, and stared nervously at the ground as if wishing he was somewhere else. The older gruff man simply ignored her as if she were a stray dog, watchful for any sudden moves, but no more.

"You speak English?' Dave asked in a gentle tone.

Lucinda looked up at him a nodded yes, trying hard not to appear nervous.

"Well that's good, makes you easier to care for. OK drop your clothes and we'll get you inspected.' Lucinda stared at him as if he had grown another head. She wasn't too surprised at losing her clothes but the word 'inspection' sent a chill through her dark skin. She knew women were often abused by the police, especially in Mexico, but these men didn't seem to be getting ready to use her like that. Rather, she almost felt like they were ranchers and she was the new prize cow. She hesitated, looking around in growing awareness of just how wrong things seemed to be. She looked over the barn like building with it's narrow slit windows and prison-like feel. She remembered the barbed wire and the attack dogs and just how far away they were from any towns. Her flesh rose in goose pimples as she suddenly found herself wishing she were somewhere far, far away.

The gruff guard saw her hesitation and grabbed her, ready to tear her thin shirt off. He stopped when he saw the look Dave gave him. He backed away, and Dave laid his hand on her warm arm. His hand was calloused but oddly gentle as he raised her arms over her head. His eyes locked onto hers, his light blue freezing her restless dark orbs. Involuntarily, as is she were a bird hypnotized by a serpent she grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head, and handed him the cheap garment. He accepted it with a smile, his eyes still locked on hers, not even glancing at the firm tawny belly and smooth shoulders that stood revealed in the dim light.

Without taking her eyes off his face, she undid her bra and let her firm young breasts free. The night air should have been cold but the intensity of his gaze filled her with a deep, distinctly sensual warmth. Without another word, she unzipped her jeans and slid them down her smooth brown legs. She stood still for a moment, allowing the men to take in her muscled thighs and toned calves. Finally, with a faint shy smile crossing her face, she slipped her cotton panties down to her ankles. Kicking her sneakers off, she stepped free of her clothes and her former life.

Dave nodded approvingly at her implicit submission. "Good attitude', he commented to the border guards, 'it's a nice change from the usual hotheaded senoritas. Takes days to break some of them. This one's a fine catch for sure."

He took Lucinda by the arm and began to walk her towards the barn. His grip was gentle, but she could feel the power in it and didn't dare resist. Despite the tough bravado she put on with her friends, she was really pretty shy and uncertain and what defiance she felt melted away with his touch.

She turned back to stare as the two men hauled Hector's body out of the truck and dumped it on the ground. The younger man began to hose the blood away while the older guard began to drag the stiff corpse by the ankles towards a large, industrial looking building on the other side of the driveway. "Process him like usual?' the man inquired as he hauled Hector to the steel doors.

"Yeh' Dave answered, 'guys still don't bring much, but I guess we shouldn't waste what nature provides." Some of the ladies will certainly like him, so get him fixed up. Remember keep the oysters separate, you know the gals go for those."

The older man laughed at the cryptic reference as he dumped the body by the door. Lucinda took one last look at her boyfriend, still unmoved by his fate. Another dead gang-banger was nothing to mourn; she thought coldly, she had herself to worry about.

"By the way', Dave commented, 'why don't you two take a break and spend a few hours enjoying yourself with some of the girls. You know how lonely they get at night." The older man gave a wicked laugh while his younger companion actually blushed, whether in excitement or shame. Dave stared at him with calculating eyes. "You still with us son?" he asked quietly.

The man looked at him, unwilling to meet his eye. "Yeh I guess."

"Good,' Dave answered, 'cause its way too late to back out now. You knew what you were getting into the first time you gave us a hand rounding up some city girls for the club. You get paid damm well to do your job. Besides, we both know you love to play the game as much as anyone."

The young man nodded slowly, quietly acknowledging the truth in what was said. He looked up at Dave, then at Lucinda. She could see the emotions warring on his face. Finally, with a defeated shrug he said "I guess you're right boss. It's just a job."

Dave smiled back, and gave him a good-natured clap on the shoulder. "We still got that young run-away we picked up last month, you remember, the blonde one from the beach? She's almost ready for her big day so you better get her while you can. I bet she'd love to spend a few hours with you."

The man smiled sheepishly, whatever shame he felt being pushed aside by greed and simple lust. Lucinda felt a kinship with him, another soul easily led astray. He gave her one last, wistful smile and headed downhill to what Lucinda assumed was the brothel. She gave him a farewell smile, and idly hoped she might see him again. With that Dave led her towards the grim cement building. Lucinda assumed she was going to be used in some kind of kinky sex slave thing. She had heard of places like this in the city, but always stayed away from the rougher trade. Nevertheless, it might be better than spending time in some county jail avoiding the prison dykes, or worse yet, getting dumped back in Mexico. Hell, she thought with a small smile, she might even like the place for a while.

She was disappointed when Dave opened the door and led her inside. Instead of some cheap bordello, the place looked more like a jail. There was a hallway lined on both sides with bars. Through the bars Lucinda could see small cells, each one with a cot and toilet. Each cell had a young woman inside. Many women were Hispanic like herself, or black, with a few Anglo and Asian girls mixed in. One cell even held a Hindi girl. Several of the girls looked up at Lucinda with bored, dull looks. Lucinda was reminded of the stares cattle gave you as you passed, their eyes registering your presence and nothing more. Most of the girls were sleeping, but every cell had a television and several were staring dopily at MTV or some mindless late-night swill. For some reason Lucinda noticed all the girls looked well-fed, almost sleek. None were fat, indeed each one looked healthy in a soft, girly sort of way. In fact, Lucinda, who was no thin waif herself, felt positively thin and sickly next to these well-fleshed ladies.

It was then that Lucinda began to resist. This was obviously no kinky rural whorehouse. With a sudden start she realized that this must be some kind of white slavery ring. She had heard rich foreign perverts often had girls kidnapped and brought overseas to be kept as pets. Some people insisted that was what happened to several of the girls who had disappeared from the barrios over the last few years. Lucinda didn't mind fucking for a living, but being kept by some greasy oil sheik turned her stomach. She tried to yank her arm away, but Dave simply squeezed her shoulder like a vice. Lucinda winced in pain, and threw a punch at his head. Dave blocked it with casual ease, and slapped her across the jaw. The blow wasn't hard enough to injure, but it stung like hell and she was slammed back against one of the cell doors. The other girls looked on in sudden interest, like coyotes sniffing for a plump rabbit.

Lucinda began to struggle with Dave, her arms flailing wildly as he tried to restrain her. She didn't notice the girl in the cell behind her come up behind her and kneel down behind her buttocks, which were pressed against the steel bars. Suddenly, Lucinda felt a hot needle of pain in one of her cheeks, and she leapt forward into Dave's arms. She turned around and to her horror she saw the girl, a dark skinned Mexican licking blood off her lips with animal relish. Lucinda's stomach heaved when she realized this bitch had actually bit her in the ass, and would have taken a hunk out if she hadn't leapt away. The bitch glared up at her through the bars in frustrated rage, her eyes gleaming like an animal's She looked over Lucinda's body with a wolfish intensity, her eyes trailing up and down Lucinda's limbs as if they were joints of raw meat. Lucinda gagged in disgust, too revolted by what had happened to even try to resist Dave when he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her onto a high table in an empty cell.

Lucinda stood shivering in shock, staring out at the line of caged girls. They all stared back at her with hungry eyes, desperate to reach her soft flesh and rip her into bloody shreds. Despite all her tough years in the barrio, she had never seen such pure primal hunger as she saw in their eyes, and she began to sob in sudden fear and horror.

After a few minutes, the girls began to lose interest and wander back to sleep or to their televisions. Dave sprayed some antiseptic onto the bite mark on her ass. He muttered something about girl bites usually getting infected, but Lucinda was too much in shock to pay attention.

Lucinda sat quietly while Dave took care of her wound. He still tremhemorrhage slightly, but his strong hands reassured her. She began to ask him what was going on here but he silenced her with a glance. His hands lingered on her warm flesh, slowly stroking the satiny surface of her shoulders and back. Despite her fear, she began to respond to his touch, leaning against him ever so slightly inviting his next caress. He lifted her chin and stared into her ink black eyes. With a slow smile he leaned forward and kissed her, his lips brushing hers like a breeze. Her mouth parted, and his lips returned, this time with passion. His tongue slid over hers and began to explore her mouth. His hands gripped her hips and pulled her against him, her loins crushed against the hard bulge in his pants. Her hands slipped onto his zipper, pulling it down. Her slim fingers worked inside, pulling his engorged member free. Part of Lucinda's mind revolted against what she was doing, her attraction to a man that was little shy of a rapist. Nevertheless, she needed him, for reassurance against the horrors that lay on the other side of the barred doors, and in hope of appeasing the man who obviously held her life in his hands.

She took his thick shaft and shifted her body forward, placing her crotch over the thick head. Ever so slowly, with small shuddering gasps, she slid down on the pole, her juices lubricating its length as she swallowed it with her sex. His mouth remained locked with hers, the intensity of his grip betraying his growing arousal.

Lucinda began to gently pump the meat inside her, her loins moving up and down in long slow motions. Gradually, the rocking grew faster as her urgency mounted, her hips now pistoning over the rock hard shaft inside her. Her mind was lost in the primeval reassurance of simple animal fucking, every thought driven from her head but the urgent need to hold another human being and to climax in a senseless burning rush. At last, when she felt the first warm seed shoot into her, she came with a guttural scream, her cries echoing off the walls and drawing the blank stares of the caged women who glanced at her sweat slick skin with obvious hunger. Their stares drove her even deeper in orgasm, the bloody death in their gazes forcing her to re-affirm her life with even greater passion. Dave too was caught in the excitement, his arms crushing her back like steel vices as his hips thrust his seed deeper into her body.

Finally, the two slowed, and spent several minutes in a warm, sexual glow. With continued gentleness, he released her. She sank back on the table, utterly spent, unwilling to think about her fate. Her owner, for that was how she now saw him, smiled tenderly as he let her go. He made her wash in a large shower room at the end of the hall, then walked her back to her holding cell. She almost was able to forget her surroundings until he made her hold out her arm and accept an injection of some clear fluid he took from a medicine cabinet. Lucinda was always very sensitive to pain and she whined when he injected her, which seemed to amuse him. The fluid felt like fire, burning its way up her arm. He then left her there, holding her arm, as he closed the door on her prison. With a quite 'good night' that held no trace of mockery, he left her alone in the night with nothing but hungry women and her own fears for company.

Lucinda awoke to the sounds of slamming cell doors. She had slept poorly, tossing and turning, her dreams filled with blazing guns and cold predatory faces. She felt dopey as she rolled off her cot. She was also quite horny, and she noticed with a tiny bit of embarrassment that her crotch was damp and itchy. She idly wondered if her condition had anything to do with the injection she had the night before, but her mind refused to focus.

The girls were led to a yard outside and made to do an hour of stretching and light exercise. Dave was there, keeping a careful eye on each of the girls, along with several ranch hands. The girls acted with unquestioning obedience, their dull eyes registering nothing as they were ordered through the exercises. Lucinda found herself following along, the cloudiness in her head keeping her from summoning up her usual defiance. Dave smiled when he saw her, and even patted her on the rump as she jogged past him.

After exercise, each girl was weighed, the results noted on a clipboard. They were then fed a huge bowl of sweetened gruel. It was heavy and filling, and Lucinda detected the faint taste of still more drugs in it. She very, very hungry, and soon licked the bowl clean. The girls were then showered and allowed to lounge around the enclosed yard for several hours, their sleek bodies tanning in the hot sun. It was almost like some languid lesbian dream, lounging about in the heat with over two dozen or so horny young women, occasionally locking with one or more in a lazy bout of lovemaking, before dozing off surrounded by soft girly flesh. The last bit of Lucinda's rational mind screamed for her to wake up and fight, but the frantic voice faded like an annoying pest until it at last silent.

Lucinda saw the young man who had brought her here last night leave in the pickup. Dave handed him a wad of money and patted him on the back, congratulating him on his fine catch and telling him he had the makings of a fine hunter. He looked sullen, as if sickened by what he had done. He looked over and saw Lucinda. His eyes brightened and he greeted her in a shy, almost timid voice. Lucinda didn't reply, she only looked at him with dark accusing eyes, the last remnants of her intelligence fading even as he looked back. He lowered his eyes, unwilling to meet her stare.

"I'm sorry' he muttered, 'I didn't mean to get you hurt, its just that I kind of need the money." He looked back up, searching for some sign of forgiveness. He saw none. "I gotta go now, I hope it doesn't hurt too bad, you know, when they finally do it." With that he got into the truck and sped away, happy to leave his conscience behind.

The days quickly fell into a dull routine. Exercise, breakfast, siesta, launch, more exercise, a huge fattening dinner, then a long evening in the cell, what little consciousness left being dulled even more by hours of television. Security was a bit casual because the drugs made the inmates too lethargic to try to escape. The main concern was that the constant sexual arousal and hunger caused by the drugs occasionally made some of the girls try to attack their fellow inmates. On Lucinda's first day she saw one petite blonde leap onto another girl's back and start to gnaw at her victim's ear. Two ranch hands jumped on them and wrestled the would-be cannibal off, then they stunned her with a stun gun and threw her in her cell. Lucinda too began to look hungrily at the other girls. For the first time, she dwelt on just how much meat was on a woman's body, from the full thighs and saucy buttocks to the padded rib cages and succulent arms. She drooled at the sight of her fellow's limbs, and found herself dreaming of how good it would be to tear away that luscious flesh with her teeth, to taste the bloody strips of living meat slide down her throat. Only the fear of the stun guns kept her from ripping some girl's throat out.

Everyone dimly realized that they were going to be eaten. No one actually came out and said it, they didn't have to. The constant preoccupation with their weight, the way the hands would pinch and inspect their flesh left little doubt what was in store for them. The thought of being eaten revolted Lucinda to the core. She was afraid of dying, of course, but the sheer awfulness of being devoured by another human being made her sick. She told herself she had to escape, even to find a way to kill herself, but the constant torpor of the drugs robbed her of her will. Like her fellow cattle, she simply avoided thinking about it, hoping that it was all so awful dream.

One break in the monotony was the delivery of new girls. They came in spurts, mostly captured illegals like Lucinda, or abducted run-aways and prostitutes. Sometimes shipments of girls came from overseas, truckloads of women from Asia or Latin America who had been enslaved and sold by criminal gangs in their home countries. All shared a similar trait; they would not be missed. No one much cared what happened to the poor or helpless, most were simply relieved they were gone. Like Lucinda, the new girls would struggle briefly, only to submit to the chemicals and sheer hopelessness of their fate.

The other interruption came when girls were shipped out. Orders would come from the outside world and several girls would be separated, bound and gagged, and loaded up into a truck. Sometimes specific girls would be ordered; other times the ones culled were simply the plumpest. In either case, the ranch hands loaded them like so many sides of meat into the truck, indifferent to the death they were sending them to.

Lucinda always remembered the look the doomed women had as they were loaded. The selected ones would be bathed, shaved, their hair brushed and hung loose. There were several female guards who would take care of preparing the sows, end they were far crueler then the men. Despite the drugs the girls knew they were being sent to their deaths and the fear would cut through their torpor. They would struggle weakly, their eyes wide and staring about as they were hauled away. The female guards seemed to enjoy their prey's bleating terror, and they pushed and prodded their charges with sadistic delight. Many peed themselves in fear, forcing the guards to hose them down like animals.

Unlike her fellow inmates, Lucinda forced herself to watch. Slowly, the dull weight in her mind cleared. Watching the stark terror on the woman's faces as they were led of like animals to be butchered began to revive her old determination. For the first time in weeks she felt anger, anger that her life would end like this. Despite her many failings, she was a human being, not a pig to be slaughtered. If she simply let these people do this to her, she deserved such a hideous death. She looked about her and spied a small piece of stone in the dirt. To small to use as a weapon, it could still be sharpened to use as a cutting edge. She picked it up and slipped it into the only hiding spot she had, her vagina. She then watched the truck driving off with its load of human cattle. She looked away, determined to spare herself that fate.

That night she spent hours quietly grinding the edge against the concrete floor of her cell. The stone was hard and took on a sharp, flaky edge. She drew it across the skin of her forearm, and was rewarded with a thin trickle of blood. The pain actually felt good, a reminder that she was not going to be a placid farm beast. She looked at her tiny weapon, weighing what to do. With regret she realized it was way too small to use against her captors. What would be a small scratch do when she would soon be overpowered and hogtied, waiting her trip to the dinner plate. With a small sigh she realized her blade was good for only one thing, to kill herself. At least she would die with some dignity, courageous enough to deny her tormenters the pleasure of killing her like a squealing sow. She smiled in pleasure at the thought of how angry they would be when they found her dead, her value ruined. With a small shudder she placed the flinty edge against her wrist and closed her eyes.

 

Lucinda Part 2

She was stopped by the sound of the hallway door opening. In stepped the young border guard who had help capture her several weeks ago. He looked nervous, his shirt sweaty, his eyes shifting restlessly as he quietly made his way to her cell. He put his finger to his mouth, motioning her to be quiet as he unlocked her door.

Lucinda stared back, uncertain. Men and women often came to spend some time playing with the captive females. Often, it was border guards or policeman getting rewarded for capturing some more livestock. Sometimes it was members of whatever club this hellhole belonged to, come to sample the menu before choosing their meals. They were the worst, coldly evaluating each female for the quality of their meat even as they rutted and fucked the captive slave girls.

"Shh..' the man whispered, "I've come to get you out. You've got to be quiet.'

Lucinda was still uncertain, wondering if this was some cruel trick. She thought for a second, then realized she had nothing to lose. She stood up and followed him out of her cell.

"My name's Brian' he whispered, 'Be careful, there's still guards around.'

Silently, they crept from the building and across the grounds to the gate. Lucinda's heart stopped in her throat as a huge guard dog approached them, growling deeply and exposing savage canines. Brian stopped and flung a large piece of meat at the dog, which quickly snatched the hunk out of the air and lay down to feed. Lucinda almost gagged when she saw there was a flap of human skin still on the meat the dog was feeding on.

"Got it from the meat locker' Brian said, seeing the horrified look on her face 'don't worry, the girl that came from is beyond caring what happens to her body. Come on before someone sees us."

Lucinda followed him, her mind reeling. The drugs still lay heavy on her, and only her determination and the sudden hope of freedom kept her going.

A few hundred yards past the gate they came to Brian's pick-up parked behind some brush. Brian reached in back, tossed Lucinda an old coat and motioned for her to get in. She put the coat on, her skin sensitive from weeks of being naked. She got in along with Brian and he spun the truck around, flooring the gas, trying to get away as fast as possible.

"Why are you doing this?' Lucinda asked as the desert flew by. 'Aren't you one of them?"

Brian looked at her nervously. "No...no not really. I never knew what I was getting into. At first, it was just money to look the other way when some other cops took of with illegals instead of arresting them. I mean, who knew where they were taking them? Then, well, once I proved I could be trusted, they let me on the secret. They paid me a lot, I mean a lot, of money to bring them women. I needed the money, and well, it wasn't like these folks would get missed. I mean they were here against the law anyway, so its really their fault."

"But they're people!' Lucinda hissed, angry at the casual way Brian let himself become involved in murder and worse. "How could you keep on doing it? Sending women off to be eaten?'

"You don't understand, the money was really good and I really needed it. And...' Brian shook his head, deeply ashamed at what he was saying, 'the meat tastes really good. You can't believe what it tastes like till you've tried it. Its like drugs and the best sex you ever had all wrapped up into one. Only it doesn't end. You get the same huge rush every time you take a bite, and its lasts for days, the sheer high of having consumed a fellow human being. You can't understand, you can't stop."

Lucinda glared back at him, trying not to think of her rescuer as a monster. In a horrible way, she did understand, if just a little bit. She knew how the drugs she was taking made her look at her fellow women, how she gazed at their smooth soft bodies and thought of them not a people, but as food. The drug removed her inhibitions, leaving the naked primal hungers that all humans shared exposed, eager to be fed. She closed her eyes and wondered if she would have the strength to deny the dark hunger if she ever had a chance to fulfill it, whether she would turn down a banquet of human flesh if it was hers for the taking.

"Why did you rescue me?' She whispered, tired of trying deny what she knew was true. "Why me?"

"Because you are the first I was responsible for capturing. The other ones I simply helped track, others did the capturing and killing if necessary. Yours was the first face I really looked into, knowing I was sending you to be slaughtered. I guess I make a pretty bad monster, eh?"

Lucinda smiled wearily and gently placed her hand in his. He smiled shyly, grateful for the small sign of gratitude.

A sudden light cut through the night air. Lucinda and Brian blinked in the sudden glare, blinded. Lucinda barely made out the form of a helicopter sitting just of the road, then, too late, the silhouette of a man crouching in the roadway, a rifle in his hand.

There was a sharp crack and the windshield in front of them sparkled with new cracks.

Brian gasped and leaned back, a spurt of blood leaping from his upturned mouth. He twitched for a moment, clawing at the hole in his throat. He looked over at Lucinda, his eyes already growing stiff. "I'm sorry, ' he croaked around the flood of blood. He slumped back dead.

The truck veered of and crashed into a low tree. Lucinda screamed, her arms reaching for Brian. She then realized he was no use to her, and again she was alone and defenseless. She wrenched open her door and leapt out, ready to run for her life.

A fist came out of the darkness and slammed into her temple. She slumped down against a paid of jeans-clad legs, stunned.

"I told you we couldn't trust him. He was too soft, to weak.''

Lucinda stared up at Dave, the overseer of the ranch. He still held the rifle in one hand. He looked down at her, a cruel smirk on his face.

"You've been a bad girl' he smiled. "I'm afraid we're going to have to stick your ass over a real slow fire for all the trouble you've caused."

"Thank god you keep that helicopter at the ranch, boss. I kinda hoped Brian here would have showed some more guts, but well, its like you said, he was too soft. He kept talking about these little long-piggies like they was really people."

Lucinda recognized the gruff voice of the older border guard, the one who had been there when she was captured. She tried to sit up, but a foot caught her in the ribs, knocking the wind out her. She lay hunched up on the ground, weeping silently for herself. Once again, had tried to escape the traps life had laid for her only to end up defeated. She clenched her fists in frustrated rage, bitter at the world. She watched as they tossed Brian's corpse into the back of the pick-up. Lucinda was hog-tied and tossed in next to him, her face pressed against his blood-soaked face. With that, she was driven back to the ranch, and her existence as a long-pig.

Lucinda's fate unfolded with the slow-motion certainty of a nightmare. She was made to watch as David's body was butchered and packaged for shipment to various customers. The more recognizable parts were dropped into a meat grinder and turned into a gory pile of shredded tissue and pulped bone. Lucinda had to help grind her would-be rescuers body into patties of human scrapple and help feed the mess to her fellow inmates. She shuddered with revulsion as the cow-like females greedily fed on what was left of a human being, mindlessly rehearsing their own fate.

After a few days she was shipped to the city with several other girls. She had never been put back on her drugs, so she was completely aware of what was happening. She struggled futilely as she was chained and loaded into the truck, one of the ranch hands stuffing a dirty rag into her mouth so her despairing wails wouldn't upset her fellow sows.

The restaurant was a large, beautifully appointed mansion in one of the posh hillside cul-de-sacs that ringed LA. Several dozen well-coifed and dressed men and women were there to greet the cattle shipment, cruelly mocking the human meat animals as they were unloaded and put on display. There were even some sonren amongst the guests, youthful cannibals joining their parents in the most unholy of meals, another generation of orgres being instructed in the art of human consumption.

The sheer refinement of the furnishings only added to the horror. Lucinda had expected some blood-soaked slaughterhouse, full of drooling troglodytes and maddened ghouls. Instead, the glittering crystal, fine china and exquisite decor stood in mocking contrast to the bestial ritual that was being played out. Fabulous chandeliers overhung huge tables set with wrist and ankle restraints so writhing victims could be held in place while being eaten alive. Lavish silverware lay gleaming on tables, waiting to cut and puncture human flesh. Female heads were mounted on the polished teak walls like macabre works of art. Even the furniture bore the mark of the grisly games played out here, the smooth leather covering the carved wood coming from the pelts of countless hapless women. The guests stood about, chatting merrily amongst themselves, as if the butchering and eating of young women was the most natural thing in the world. Lucinda stared about, wildly seeking some glimmer of pity from the beautiful faces about her. She saw none, not even the smallest hint of mercy or empathy, only the cold, delighted gloating of people used to having their every whim instantly satisfied.

Dave was there to show off the sows. He was beaming with pride as each sleek beast was paraded about, drawing oohs and ahhs from the hungry crowd. Guests congratulated him on the quality of the livestock. Several chefs stood by his side, drawn form the finest restaurants in LA. The studiously took down the orders from each guest, even suggesting which pieces would be best suited for each guests tastes.

Lucinda was last out of the truck. Most of girls had already been divided up amongst the guests and were being dragged screaming into the kitchen. Two girls, a young Asian and a athletic looking black girl, were being strapped to tables, where they would be eaten as living sashimi. Several people were betting amongst themselves on how many pounds of flesh each victim could afford to lose before dying. The pair of doomed girls stared wildly about, still disbelieving this was happening to them.

Lucinda was dragged in front of a pair of couples, who gazed at her with predatory intensity. All four radiated a smug grace as they examined her naked form. The men were dressed in tuxedos, the women in evening gowns. Jewelry glittered on the women, while the watches the men wore alone would sell for more money than Lucinda had ever seen in her life. All four sipped flutes of champagne as they discussed her qualities as a meat animal.

"So this is our little bad girl' one woman smirked. 'David has told us all about you. He assured us you were the pick of the herd. All that running around will make you lean and gamey, just the way we like our long-pigs."

"Best bitch we've had in a while.' David beamed, 'lots of spirit in this one. Almost hate to cook her. She'll last a long time over the fire and be as tender as new mutton by the time she's done. Even better than that Cuban girl you had grilled last month"

"Heard you had problems with your staff' one of the men commented as her squeezed Lucinda's firm breasts in his hands, 'Heard that one of them helped this little bitch almost get away. That would be bad for business.'

"Don't worry' Dave answered confidently. 'There was a time when our little parties would have roused a lot of anger, but those days are over. You'd be surprised how few people have a conscience these days. Her boyfriend was the only one who bothered to make trouble. The rest just figure this is a business like any other and they're just happy to make some extra bucks. Face it, morality is far, far out of fashion these days. In a few years, we won't even have to hide what we do. People will go along with anything anymore just as long as you market it right."

The Man nodded in agreement as him and his friends poked and tugged at Lucinda's trembling flesh, examining her with regal disdain. "You're right, of course. Our modern civilized Americans have all of the courage and decency of sheep. Entertain them, and they'll let you do anything. Hell, they'll even let you eat them if you put the right spin on it."

Lucinda jerked away as one of the women began to press her fingers into her shaved crotch. The woman hesitated for a second, surprised that a meat animal should have any reaction to being inspected, then casually slapped her hard across the face. Lucinda gasped as the coppery taste of her blood filled her mouth. The woman smirked cruelly, as she continued her inspection. Her fingers slid in and out of Lucinda's crotch, then she held up her hand for her fiends to sniff.

"Nice vintage', one chuckled, 'Good and fresh, with just a hint of salsa. This is a great year for long-pigs."

Lucinda stood trembling in shock and shame, her fiery personality completely defeated by the sheer awfulness of her fate. Her dreams of a better life seemed like cruel taunts. Nothing would remain of her, nothing of her hopes, her struggles, her desperate ambition. Her very humanity would disappear, and she would end her existence as nothing more than a mass of suffering flesh, to be used and consumed at leisure. Even hearing the cannibals commenting on which pieces of her body might be the tastiest failed to rouse her from her stupor. She would die here no matter what she did, and the last bit of control she had left to her was to shut everything out, to dull her senses as much as possible until she was finally granted the mercy of death. That last bit of tiny defiant pride was all that was left to her, that she accept her death and not beg for her life like some of the other girls, that she would deny these beasts the pleasure of watching her plead for her life.

The four guests completed their inspection. They wanted her roasted whole on a spit, over a nice slow mesquite fire to give her skin a nice smoky flavor. Lucinda looked up at them with blank, resigned eyes as one man made sure the chef understood that they wanted Lucinda to be alive as she cooked to better flavor her already spicy flesh. One woman giggled as she asked for Lucinda's cunt to be stuffed nice and full of wine-marinated mushrooms. Her husband grinned as he made sure that fingers be severed before cooking and grilled lightly with lemon juice and served as appetizers. He also reserved one butt cheek for himself as well as her tongue. His friend took the other cheek along with one her arms, which he requested be glazed with a sweet orange sauce and boned before serving. The second woman, the one who had slapped her took her breasts, which she also wanted glazed, as well as her belly steaks, which she wanted served sliced thin with a heavy wine. What was left was to be divided amongst them and shipped to their homes to be eaten at leisure until next month's feast came around.

Dave complimented them on their selections. He stared at Lucinda with a look that was almost kindly. "You've been a good girl' he smiled, 'I got a good price for you. You should be proud. Now be a good girl and live a long while on the spit and give our guests a good show.'

With that he grabbed her under one arm and led her into the kitchen . The four cannibals followed, eager to enjoy her butchering and preparation. One even produced a small video camera to record the butchery for posterity.

Several other girls were already there, being slit and slaughtered according to the whims of the people who had ordered them. Lucinda's resolve wavered. She moaned in terror and disgust, trying one last time to turn and run, only to be forced back onto a long blood-splattered butchering block by the grinning cannibals.

One girl next to her was in the middle of being gutted by a pair of female chefs. The victim was a young Anglo, with long brown hair, milky white skin, and body beautiful enough to be the envy of a swimsuit model. She lay on her back, gasping for air as the two women tugged and pulled her intestines out through the wide slash in her belly. There was surprisingly little blood as the ropy coils were taken out and dumped into a garbage pail. Only the thick flaps of stomach meat that hung down to her sides oozed blood. Once her tummy was empty, one chef took a hose and rinsed out her abdomen, the other cutting a hole in her back to let the pinkish water drain away. After a good washing, the two peered intently at her remaining innards. A few more snips and a pair of kidneys and ovaries flew into another bucket to be made into scrapple. They upended a bucket of stuffing into her torso, packing down the mix until it filled her up to her diaphragm. One chef then sewed the flaps of skin closed with a thick twine while her companion began to slather a thick coating of oil all over their victim's ivory skin.

Once they were done set a huge metal tray loaded with fresh fruits and crisp veggies next to her and flipped the oiled sow over onto it, her tummy resting in the garnishings. They folded her legs up under her so her glistening ass rose up in the air. Her arms were propped up under her chin. The girl struggled weakly, her arms flopping to her sides. The chefs frowned in disapproval till one took a needle and twine and sewed the girls hands to the bottom of her chin, the needle passing in and out her lower jaw and slender wrists. Once set, the other chef tied her elbows and wrists together, locking the joints into place. Just to be careful the sow didn't ruin her pose in the oven they trussed her legs up under her belly and put another loop from her knees to elbows binding her completely. They then sprinkled a coating of shredded lemon rinds over her back and shoulders. A final festive carrot went in her ass, along with a shiny red apple placed firmly between her teeth. Once done, the girl looked like a magnificent holiday turkey, ready to be cooked.

The people who would be eating the hapless butterball gathered round her and had a group picture snapped of them saluting the doomed girl. Everyone but the girl was in a merry mood, and the all raised their champagne glasses in a toast to her sacrifice. They all took turns giving her a farewell slap in the ass then rolled her into her oven with a derisive cheer. The glass door closed, muffling her screams as the guests stood back ready to enjoy watching her roast.

Lucinda jumped at the first feel of steel between her thighs. She had been so busy staring at the hellish preparations next to her that she didn't even notice Dave taking a long steel spit from a rack and lining it up between her long legs. The four people who would be eating her each grabbed one of her limbs and held them tight while Dave set the needle point at the edge of her fleshy vagina.

Lucinda gasped in sudden terror, the anticipation of the first fiery piercing almost worse than the actual pain itself. She finally let loose a howl of rage and pain as she felt the metal first touch her vaginal lips.

"Sure we shouldn't gut her first?' one of the women asked, "She's going to put up quite a struggle."

"Don't worry,' Dave assured her, 'this way is a lot better. She'll live far longer this way. Believe me, you'll appreciate it when you first taste her. Nothing beats the taste of slow, live-cooked senorita. Just hold her tight so I don't puncture her lungs or heart. Enjoy the struggle, it'll make eating her even more intimate."

The four happy cannibals tightened their grips as the pole filled Lucinda's womanhood. The shaft met resistance as it met the top of her cervix, only to push past with a slight pop. A steady trickle of ruby blood began to leak out between Lucinda's lips as the spit was slid in deeper and deeper. It pushed up though her loins and into her abdominal cavity, slicing through intestines and viscera like a blade through soft cheese.

Lucinda howled for all she was worth. The muscles on her arms and legs stood out in sharp relief as she struggled to free herself and pull out the horrible shaft that slowly and steadily impaled her body. The four cannibals struggled to keep her still, their hands beginning to slip of her sweaty brown skin. Fortunately, Lucinda began to weaken and grow dizzy just a their grips were loosing. Her thrashings slowed, and her limbs slumped into the grasp of her killers. The four felt her surrender and grinned evilly amongst themselves.

Dave completed the spitting with the practiced ease of a master. The point punctured her diaphragm and slid effortlessly in her stomach and esophagus, bypassing her panting lungs. Lucinda's breath became more ragged and her face took on a choking look as the steel neared the back of her mouth. Her screams died abruptly and she instinctively threw her head back as her throat filled with blood-streaked metal. Her mouth opened and the gory point emerged like a ghastly new tongue. Her eyes grew crosseyed as she stared in horrified fascination as the spit rose from her face. She made small gurgling sounds in her throat and her struggles ceased completely as she realized she was now as helpless as insect pinned to a board.

"Won't she choke?' one of the men asked, concerned she might die too quickly and spoil her taste.

"No way' Dave laughed, 'there are tiny air holes all down the shaft. She'll get plenty of air. I bet she's sucked bigger things than this and lived to tell the tale.'

Everyone laughed and stood back to admire their pig. One woman looked down and saw Lucinda had spat some blood over her evening gown, the brilliant red contrasting with the lush green fabric.

"Oh well, another dress ruined' she pouted. ' Long pigs are so inconsiderate."

Dave and the cannibals then got down to stuffing the spitted chicana. Wine-marinated mushrooms were shoved around the spit and up into her vagina, filling the warm cavity. A hose was shoved up her ass and a load of heavy bread and onion mix pumped into her abdomen where it would flavor her tripe. Lucinda groaned as her stomach swelled with fixings, her mutilated intestines shifting painfully around the metal pole in her belly. One of the men packed several handfuls of almonds into Lucinda's mouth. Lucinda tried to spit them out, but the spit in her mouth kept her tongue from working properly and she finally submitted to this small indignity. One woman suggested sewing her mouth closed, but the others pointed out this would interfere with the sow's screaming.

The man who wanted her fingers served as appetizers took a pair of bolt cutters and spent a moment clipping off Lucinda's slender brown digits. Each finger fell into a bowl with a wet plop, until all ten were lying in a puddle of blood and lemon sauce. Lucinda grimaced in agony at each amputation, the heavy metal spit in her mouth preventing her from screaming in rage. The man's wife carefully cauterized each oozing stump on her hand. The smell of charred meat and skin filled the air, and each cannibal began to drool in anticipation.

"Serves you right for being such a naughty girl.' The woman sniffed disdainfully. She picked up one of the fingers, a pinkie, and licked the end. "Hmm... good,' she smiled, 'I love the taste of bad girl." She laughed and handed the bowl of ladyfingers to chef who carried them off to a grill to be cooked. They would be eaten as appetizers as Lucinda roasted alive, small spicy tidbits before the main course.

One last ritual was covering the dinner pig in a nice thick coating of cooking oil. This would keep her skin moist as she broiled and keep her slender limbs from charring. A heavy sugary glazing was rubbed onto her breasts and tummy to give extra protection to these succulent meats. A special oil was rubbed into Lucinda's rich black hair to keep it from burning. Her pretty head would stay on the entire time and would later serve as the centerpiece for the dining table, surrounded by bright flowers, her glazed eyes mute witness to her body's consumption.

At last, she was ready for the fire. The gathered cannibal raised their glasses in salute to her suffering. Two brawny chefs grabbed the ends of the spit and hoisted the gleaming Latina into the air and carried her to the firepit.

Lucinda looked down into the searing cheery heat of the fire. She looked on it as a savior, the passageway out of this life and all of its torments. She desperately wanted to die, to end the physical pain, and even more, the humiliation, the shame of being reduced to a meat animal. Her fiery spirit was completely broken, now she wanted only an end.

She looked over at the gathered cannibals, trying one last time to understand what could make a person do this to a fellow human being. It was amazing how easily some people shed the veneer of civilization once the old rules of restraint no matter applied, once one could be assured that they would never feel the consequences of their lusts. Power over a fellow person was like a drug to some, once tasted they wanted more, in stronger doses, until even the extremes seemed too tame, too dilute. Only the ultimate act of dominance, the very pinnacle of aristocratic privilege could suffice then, and what greater act of aristocracy was there than to reduce your fellow man to food? Did every person have this primal hunger residing like a poisonous serpent in their soul, waiting only the time and opportunity for its release? Would she be any different if the roles were reversed, and it was she that was the privileged and someone else the helpless victim? She did not know, and now that she felt the first kiss of the fire, no longer cared.

Lucinda welcomed the pain, no matter how intense, as a final passage before her release. The agony was like a scalding blanket that spread over her body. She felt herself screaming around the spit, her mouth and lungs working themselves like bellows. Her head was outside the firepit, while her body from shoulders down hung several feet or so over the smoking bed of mesquite. She smelled the tangy woodsmoke and the first savory hints of her broiling meat. She heard hissing as the first drops of her fats were teased up through her hot skin and fell sizzling into the fire below. The spit began to rotate, and Lucinda's hellish world began to turn, first face down into the heat, that upwards at the leering faces of hungry cannibals. Her lungs ran out of air and she simply sobbed as she felt the pain diminish a bit at a time, the feel of her nerve endings being cooked into silence. At last, she felt only a terrible warmth inside her, as the boundary between living tissue and cooked meat moved inwards towards her heart. She didn't know how long she turned over her fire, only that it was a long, long time, and that her strong body had given her killers a delightful show. She mourned that in the end, ,that was all she would be remembered for. Then, her eyes glazing in the heat, she stared up at her tormenters one last time and died.

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