Cow 13

Cow 13

©2004 by Cameron Smith

Part 1

He sold me! Can you believe that? The bastard sold me! Well, what else should I have expected? He calls me a cow and treats me like a cow, why should I be surprised when he turns around and sells me like a cow?

Actually, it's probably a good thing, considering what he did to Emily, not to mention what he did before the trial — sending those eight girls off to be cooked alive! And I'm pretty sure he had me lined up to be next on the menu. Of course, the police raid and the "Knobscot Monster" trial put an end to that stuff, even though it was too late for poor Christina, his eighth and last contribution to the barbecues. Her and that newspaper woman died just a couple of hours before the cops arrived.

Old Tony, though, he got away through the woods, him and Eric. Mr. Thomas, who owned the place, blew his brains out, and most of the guests who was fucking us "hostesses" while Christina and the woman was roasting got put away for life. Me and the other girls was state witnesses and got off scot free, although the defense attorneys chewed us up pretty bad, saying we was degenerate whores "whose words are as easy to buy as their bodies." But when the jury saw what Tony done to his girls, the ones who pissed him off in any way, they didn't have no trouble believing we was all there against our will.

Much good it did for us to go free, though. Tony's thugs managed to grab all fucking five of us the day after they let us out of jail. They actually hogtied and gagged us, threw us in a sound-proofed truck and took us to God knows where. The trip took days, bouncing along on the floor of that fucking truck in the total dark with no food or drink, pissing and shitting ourselves and suffocating in the stench. My throat was burning with thirst. My whole body was in pain.

We had no idea what the fuck they was gonna do to us, but figured it wouldn't be good. Working for Tony and Eric had made us pretty tough, but we was all scared shitless and crying like babies by the time they finally opened those doors again. The truck had been backed into some kind of a warehouse and the first thing they did was drag us out of the truck and take off enough of the ropes so we could stand up. Then they took out the gags. God, what a relief THAT was! Emily, a stacked dark haired girl with big brown eyes, who had just turned nineteen, immediately began to complain that her shoulder was wrenched and she was in terrible pain. Tony walks up and stares hard at her.

"Jesus, Tony!" she says, "Untie me. My shoulder fuckin' hurts! I'm reeking with shit and piss. You can't treat people like this. It ain't right."

Then he whacks her upside the face, first one side then the other, and tells her to shut the fuck up. Blood wells up between her lips and she whimpers, but she don't say another word. It's too late, though. He grabs her by the hair and drags her in front of the rest of us.

He takes out a pocket knife and cuts off all her clothes, pulling them out from under the ropes. When she's stark naked, he shoves a pan between her feet and orders her to squat over it and piss. She tries, but we ain't drunk nothing for days so not much comes out, and it's pretty rank. Tony scoffs at it, pulls out his dick and practically fills the pan with his own piss. Then he pours it from the pan into a mug and while one of his goons forces Emily's head back with her mouth open, he pours it from the mug down her throat. She's sputtering, coughing and gagging, but she swallows every drop.

"You bitches hungry?" he asks.

No one moves, afraid of what he'll do next. He knows damn well we ain't eaten for days.

He smiles. "I imagine you are. Guess we better take care of that," he says, and we all have to follow him through a long corridor as he forces poor Emily along by the hair.

We wind up in the kitchen of a restaurant which is either closed or out of business. There's this huge butcher block table in the middle and Tony's goons lift Emily up and set her on the table. They untie her bonds long enough to lay her back, face up, and strap her down on it, her arms bound to the legs on one end, her legs spread with her ankles bound to the table legs at the other end. They also bind her down to the table top with ropes around her neck, belly and pelvis. She's crying from pain as they tie short pieces of rope tight around her upper arms just under the shoulders and around her thighs just below the crotch.

Her arms and legs are beginning to turn blue and Tony asks her, normal as you please, "Feeling a little numb in your hands and feet?"

She wiggles them a little and says in a whimpery little voice, "Yeah."

"Uh huh," he says, smiling evilly at her. "That shoulder still hurt?"

"Yeah," she sniffs. "Somethin' awful."

"Which one?" he asks, all commiserating like.

"The right shoulder."

"Well," he says. "Don't you worry. We'll fix that."

With us standing around the table watching, he casually picks up this big fucking cleaver, goes to her left shoulder and with a roundhouse swing brings it down just under the binding, whacking off her arm. Everyone screams, including Emily, but he just catches the arm before it flops to the floor and holds it while one of the goons unties the wrist and carries the arm, dripping blood, to another butcher block table.

"Oops," Tony says. "I got the wrong arm. Sorry about that. Don't worry, I'll take care of it." Then he moves around Emily's head and positions himself to lop off the right arm. I don't know about the other girls, but I shut my eyes. Just the sound of the cleaver smacking into the thick wood of the table made me scream. I couldn't bear to actually watch her other arm fall off. The sound was horrible enough. Two of the girls wretched, although there weren't nothing in their stomachs but nasty yellow bile.

But Tony don't stop there. While Emily is still shuddering and groaning from the horror of what he'd just done to her, he chops off both legs as well. Emily was a voluptuous girl with well-shaped muscular legs, so it took three or four solid whacks of the cleaver to cut off each leg at the upper thigh. The goons lug those off, too.

While two of the goons start skinning Emily's arms and legs, Tony takes a big boning knife, the kind with a sharp point and a curved blade, and carefully cuts off first one tit then the other, as Emily screams bloody murder. I could actually see the tops of her ribs where he scraped down deep to get all the meat. As each breast is lifted away, one of the goons presses the back of a hot skillet against the open wound to seal it. Emily screams, passes out, and is revived with smelling salts. Tony places the tits, nipples up, on a broiling pan, brushes butter on them, sprinkles on some seasonings and shoves the pan in an oven. In the meantime, another one of the goons at the other table is slicing Emily's arms and legs into filets and laying them out in pans on top of the big commercial ranges. We was all sobbing hysterically by now. The bindings near Emily's shoulders and crotch and the seared flesh where her boobs used to be kept her from bleeding to death and she was forced to watch her own meat cooked on the stoves and in the oven. When it was done, an hour later, Tony made the rest of us sit around a table in full view of Emily and eat a plateful of her leg meat. He even forced some of it into Emily's mouth and made her chew and swallow it. He had saved the tits for himself and his crew.

We had seen this stuff before, and been forced to eat the meat they took from the other eight girls when we had to whore at the Knobscot estate. But this was worse, what with Emily still alive and watching us. We was all aware, of course, that Tony wouldn't let her live long. He was just tormenting her, making her wait to die in some way that was sure to be even more painful and gross.

Tony had a cattle prod and made us eat every scrap of Emily off our plates. The only thing we had to drink with it was urine that his goons had pissed into our mugs. It was disgusting, but we was so thirsty we drank it anyway.

"What I'm doin' here," Tony said when we was finished, "is making a fuckin' point. The point is, you don't never tell me what I can and can not do. Not ever. You cunts lost all your rights to say anything or complain about anything or even think anything you're not told to think when you got up on that stand and ran your mouths off about me and Eric. You sealed your own fates when you told that jury we was there at them barbecues, or that we even knowed anything about them."

"But Tony," I piped up, being too stupid to have learned better, "your name was all through that journal Mr. Thomas had wrote. He put down all kinds of stuff about you. So how could we . . ."

I shut my mouth when Tony took a Sharpie marker out of his pocket and comes toward me with his eyes all hard and pissed off. He makes a downward slash on my forehead with the marker, and snarls, "Got any more helpful remarks, cow?"

With a quick glance at Emily, I finally clamp my stupid mouth shut and shake my head.

"I don't wanna hear a single 'nother sound comin' outta that pie hole of yours ever again. The only thing you're gonna use it for, from now on, is feedin', suckin' cock and cleanin' out ass holes. Got that?"

I almost said "yes, sir," but caught myself. I just nodded my head.

He looked disappointed that I hadn't fallen into his little trap, but he just turned to the rest of the group. "I used to treat you decent when you worked for me. Let you keep more of your earnin's than you was worth. But that's all over. When you turned traitor on me at that trial, you kissed off any chance of bein' treated like a human. All you are to me now is a set of meat cows with rental cunts. And that's how you're gonna be treated from now on. Livestock is all you are, and you'll stay alive only as long as it's worth it to me to keep you around. Now stand up and take off all your clothes! It's ridiculous to see a bunch of cows standing around with clothes on."

After we'd stripped, Tony's goons tied our hands behind our backs and locked one-inch wide metal collars on our necks. While they was doing that, Tony wrapped a much wider metal collar around Emily's neck. It was so wide it jammed up under her jaw forcing her head back. When our own collars was in place, the goons clipped a length of heavy chain to them and led us back out through the corridor and into the warehouse. An enormous wire cage had been dragged to the center of the floor and inside was two large Dobermans glaring at us like it wouldn't take much to talk them into tearing our throats out.

"See what I managed to have rescued from the animal shelter where the fuckin' court was gonna have them euthanized," says Tony sauntering into the warehouse. "Recognize them? These bad boys was the guard dogs at the Thomas estate. Remember how they loved eatin' the girl guts that Doc threw to them while he was gettin' the cows ready for the spit? Well, do they have a treat in store for them now!"

Behind him through the door from the corridor comes one of the goons carrying what's left of poor Emily. She can't weigh much, being just a head and torso. Her mouth is open and she's making gasping sounds, blood bubbling out of the holes where those big beautiful boobs used to be. The Dobermans are pacing like crazy now, but not making a sound. It's eerie!

"You'll notice these are very quiet dogs," Tony says. "That's because Doc sliced their vocal cords, like he did the cows, so they can sneak up on spies and prowlers silent as you please. Now watch this."

Tony took out his pocket knife again and without another word plunged it into Emily's upper belly, then dragged it slowly downward, right through her navel and on to where the blade ground against her pelvic bone, all the while poor Emily screaming. Her intestines bulged up through the gash. The dogs went crazy at the sound, smell and sight of it, lunging at the side of the cage! One of the goons slid open a door on the top of the cage and the guy holding Emily in his arms tossed her through it. Her body bounced off one of the Dobermans and before she hit the floor of the cage both animals were tearing into her flesh. She went on screaming as the dogs ripped out chunks from the stumps of her arms and legs. Unable to bite into her throat and kill her because of the collar, they had to be satisfied with tearing off pieces of her ass and face, and grabbing mouthfuls of her guts and other internal organs. The last thing I remember seeing before passing out was one of those big black brick faces sinking its teeth into her cunt, ripping one of the lips away from her body along with a long patch of belly skin and swallowing it in two gulps. I remember the sound of her screams fading away with the rest of the world.

When I came to, I was strapped tightly in a chair and couldn't move. Even my hair had been tied down to the back of the chair in some way so that my head was tilted painfully back and immoveable. Tony was glowering at me. I could hear the dogs still chewing on Emily's bones behind me, but it was the least of my concerns. The look on Tony's face frightened me so much that my heart began to pound and I felt warm piss trickling out of my slit and collecting under my butt.

"Too bad you missed the best part," he said, "where they went for her eyeballs and tongue, the bitch screamin' all the time. Right after she died the boys fished out what was left and took off the collar so the Dobermans could enjoy some nice neck meat.

"Now it's time to complete your conversion into a cow." He waved a jaw spreader in my face. "Open wide!"

I knew the awful thing he was going to do to me and my mind spun in mad circles. I had enough presence of mind not to say anything, but my lips involuntarily clamped shut and I couldn't hold back a whimper, my body's pathetic refusal to be brave and accept this terrible mutilation as the only alternative to ending up like Emily.

"Maybe you didn't hear me, little bitch traitor. Or maybe you'd rather Jerry ram a cattle prod up your cunt. That'll make you open wide enough. Or maybe you'd rather be tomorrow's supper for your cunt friends. I know Spot and Rover over there will sure enjoy snacking on the leftovers, now that they've tasted the other traitor cunt. OPEN UP!"

Weeping, I opened my mouth and he shoved the spreader in, cranking it as far as the tendons in my jaw would allow, putting me in terrible pain. He clamped a pair of those locking pliers that doctors use on my tongue, pulling my tongue out and holding it there with a cord attached to a toothed metal clamp on my right nipple. God it hurt!

"I learned how to do this watching Doc do it to the last six cows we sent to Thomas," he said, inserting a long handled scalpel into my mouth and down my throat. "Don't move a fuckin' muscle or I'll cut into your windpipe. Then I WILL throw you to Spot and Rover."

He looked up past me and nodded. I felt a pair of iron hands grab my ears and hold me steady while a fire erupted in my throat! I tried to scream but no sound came out, only a geyser of blood. The hands let go of my ears and undid whatever was binding my hair so I could bend my head forward and cough up the blood running into my lungs. I knew he had cut my vocal cords, but some hopeless optimist in me made me try to talk anyway, just to prove it wasn't true, I guess. But it was. No sound came out. Whatever plans he had for me next, I had spoken my last words. To the end of my life (which will probably not be long) I will be mute.