Chapter Two - Tenderising the Meat

It was with extreme trepidation, but also a perverse knot of excitement, that she drove back to Stoke Hall the following weekend. It wasn’t the thought of her tender tits receiving another round of burning injections, or her delicate arse being thrashed black once more, that was exciting her. What was making her damp was the chance of another session with a man who desired her, even if it was her own son - showing his desire by wantonly ripping at her insides with his cock - was something she was honest enough to admit to herself was actually a hope.

Walking in the entrance, she again found the headmaster waiting for her, this time not bothering to hide the pleasure on his face.

“Hello again Mrs Upshott. Good to see you’re back for your next round of meat treatment. Just come up to my study for a minute, so I can see how we’re getting on.”

Cecily had never really liked the headmaster at Stoke Hall, and now he wasn’t even treating her with the politeness he generally put on for parents. John always raved about him, but Cecily couldn’t see the appeal, clearly it was a boy thing. He did get results though, Stoke Hall was regularly the top-rated school in the country While reluctant to do as the headmaster required, in her condition she didn’t have much choice, and she slunk after him up the main staircase.

Ushered into the headmaster’s study, she got her first clue that this, her first full visit to the school as merely an item on  the menu, might be a slightly more public affair. Last time she had been in here, when she had learnt of her new status and first had her body treated as the meat it now was, there had only been the two of them present. This time half a dozen boys, picked, by the look of them, from all forms at the school, were stood, neatly lined up, against the side wall.

“You’re all here. Good.” the headmaster commented, as he manoeuvred Cecily to stand in the middle of the carpet.

“Congratulations boys.” he continued. “Mr Lathern tells me you’re each the best in your form for culinary arts. I thought, as a prize for your hard work, that you might like a chance to examine our meat for the leavers’ dinner. Kindly provided courtesy of John Upshott.”

Every boy had been watching anyway as a mature woman, really quite pretty for her age, was brought into the room, but the headmaster’s words made them examine her with a renewed and rather more critical vigour. The sight Cecily presented to a dozen eager young eyes was quite different to her appearance last week. Practicality and expediency had almost completely changed her appearance..

****

Before she had let her shoulder-length, chestnut hair free, both its artful wave and colour at least assisted by careful work in a salon, while the face the hair surrounded had been delicately made-up to smooth out lines and highlight her rather good cheekbones and baby-blue eyes - her favourite feature. Now, mindful more of the shivering and crying that lay ahead than her looks, her hair was pulled back into a single neat bunch and her make-up was limited to a light dusting of powder. Wanting no mascara to run down her cheeks, her eyes looked smaller and even a little dimmed. Although less obviously beautiful, the effect created a delicate fragility that left her still very attractive.

Gone too were the close-fitting tailored clothes for a smart dinner. Already her tits were starting to feel a little sore and swollen, so she’d chosen a blouse that hung loosely over her torso, grateful that her small cup size meant that, despite a noticeable swelling in her boobs, no bra was needed to support them yet. Her skirt too was chosen to be practical above attractive. She’d gone again for loose fitting - remembering how painful pulling down a tight skirt over raw skin had been after her arse had first been thrashed. After some heart-wrenching she’d gone for a skirt that ended a few inches below her knees, even if it did mean she couldn’t conceal that her legs were now bare – last week she’d peeled off suspenders and stocking tops that had been beaten so hard they took off a layer of skin with them – but brief experiment had shown a full-length skirt wouldn’t stay bunched around her waist when she bent down to present her bare buttocks.

In fact the only items of ‘clothing’ left from the woman who came a week ago were three inch heels and a lack of knickers. While the absence of underwear was an obvious practical consideration, given her position, the continued wearing of high heels was one small attempt to keep a part of her pre meat-girl self. She’d tried flats and smaller heels, but, after years of always choosing three inches, her view of the world from a lower position left her feeling a little more unbalanced than her preparations for slaughter already were.

****

“Paul, would you like to get the meat unclothed so we can take a good look at the quality?”

The smallest boy, a skinny lad with neat black hair who looked like he needed the decent meal Cecily had become, stepped nervously forward.

“E..excuse me Mrs Upshott. Would you mind removing some clothes?”

“No, no, no boy.” the head said, a little testily, as he waved imperiously at Cecily to stop undoing her blouse. “This is basic stuff Paul. You’ve got a meat-girl here, what should you be doing.”

The young boy, looking ever more terrified, shook his head in mute admission of his lack of learning.

“You older lads had better know what you’re supposed to do. Who wants to show Paul?”

There was a bit of nervous shuffling, no one anxious to stick his neck out and risk facing the head’s ire, just in case they hadn’t studied as hard as they thought. Eventually a rather older boy did tentatively half-raise his hand.

“Thank you Keith. Let’s hope you can show Paul how it’s done.”

Keith looked almost as nervous, but when he spoke it was in a clear firm voice, even if it did crack into a squeak at the end.

“Get your clothes off and stand with your hands behind you back, your legs a little apart.”

This time, to Cecily’s relief - after Paul had been stopped she’d imagined with dread how her clothes might be removed - Cecily was allowed to slip out of her blouse and skirt. After pulling off her heels, she took up the required position, looking determinedly into the distance to avoid the hungry stares of six boys gawping at her naked form.

“Right. Who can tell me how we should check the progress of the meat?”

What followed the headmaster’s question was a humiliating, but thankfully not painful, half-hour of being prodded poked and discussed. All the boys were invited to give their opinions on her tits and arse - the consensus was too small and too tough - as well as more general opinions of the rest of her body. Her pussy drew quite a bit of attention, particularly when it was found to be damp, leaving the head to give a final explanation before he sent the boys back to their regular classes.

“As you’ve seen this sow is showing signs of arousal. Surprisingly it’s not that uncommon, particularly in the older ones. There are even some restaurants that get their meat to climax even as it’s being slaughtered, the chemical release is believed to give the flesh extra delicacy. Personally I think it’s more for show than flavour, most places that do that have an open slaughtering room so the patrons can see the meat cum as it’s cut open. At any rate, even for the founder’s dinner, we don’t do that here. Now get back to your classes, and I’ll expect to see a written report on this meat-girl from each of you by friday.”

To a chorus of ‘Thank you sir-s’, and more than one lustful backward glance at the naked woman they’d just been groping, the group shuffled out. The last one carefully closed the door, leaving Cecily alone in the room with the headmaster. After last weeks display she sank to her knees, feeling her mouth tense as it waited for the expected assault.

“Not that today meat.” the head chuckled, rather pleased Cecily had already so completely accepted her lot. He found those years when the chosen mother made herself awkward rather trying - not that it stopped him from sampling the them - but he resented the extra effort that had to be put in.

“I thought I’d try this cunt the boys say is damp. Lie down on the floor while I get my trousers off, I wouldn’t like them to get creased.”

In a disturbing and perverse way she had got off on the brutal sodomy by her son. Now, as the headmaster ground his dick into her pussy - he wasn’t being gentle but it was not the same painful assault - there wasn’t any pleasure in her body at all. It was more of a relief feeling the head’s warm deposit finally inside her than being released from the strapping-horse.

The headmaster looked, if anything, a little bored himself as he instructed her to slip on her clothes and get to the sixth-form common room. Maybe that was why, as she was leaving, he addressed one parting instruction to her.

“Mrs Upshott.”

“Yes.”

“Can you please use the kitchen entrance in future. It’s not appropriate to have our meat wandering in the front door.”

****

The first of her day’s beatings was easily as painful as her experience last week. Despite once more being alone with his mother, her naked sphincter unprotected from him, John didn’t take advantage of her position this time, although she could clearly see the outline of a stiff cock pressing against his trousers. Cecily had actually become damp at the promise of that bulge as the thrashing neared its conclusion, expecting, even reluctantly hoping for, a repeat of his aggressive pleasure pistoning in her arse.

She sought to hide her disappointment by roughly pulling the skirt back over her raw and throbbing cheeks, the feel of the material scratching her burning flesh making her whimper. John, who was heading for the door, didn’t even turn round at the sound, barely half-turning his head to provide her next instructions before he left.

“You need to go down to the kitchens to get your injections. The Cook will find somewhere to store you after that until three o’clock when you’re needed back up here.”

With that he closed the door behind him, leaving his mother wondering how you got to the kitchens. Last week, dazed by the sudden change in her fortunes, she’d just blindly followed the headmaster, barely taking in any details of the route they followed.

Hesitantly opening the door, Cecily headed out into the corridor, hoping to find a boy who could show her where to go. If she found one of the younger ones maybe he wouldn’t treat a meat-girl so badly.

Her luck seemed to be in. The first boy she saw, his back to her as he lent against a pillar, was still in short trousers, something she now happily remembered John had only had to wear as a first-former. She even managed a bit of a smile as she approached him.

“Hello. I was wondering if you could show me how to get to the kitchens?”

The boy turned quite sharply as she spoke to him, his face breaking into a grin as he looked her up and down. Only then did Cecily realise how tear-stained and dishevelled she must look.

“You’re John’s mother, the meat.” he stated excitedly, not even needing to make it a question. He called out to a group of boys, also in shorts, down a side corridor, “Hey fellows, there’s some meat here that needs directions.”

The next moment she was surrounded by a bunch of first formers, all looking at her with interest. A tall lad with a shock of blond hair, clearly their leader, spoke first.

“Where are you trying to get too?”

“The kitchens.” Cecily answered, trying to ignore the sea of wicked little grins that surrounded her.

“That’s no problem. Just show us how good job your son’s making of your arse and we’ll take you there now.”

“I’m not about to show you my bottom.” Cecily spluttered. She hadn’t expected anything like this from such a young group. “What would your headmaster do if he found out she’d asked me that?”

The lad’s grin looked fit to split his face at her attempt to admonish him.

“He’d say, ‘Well done Roger. I’m glad to see you were paying attention in cookery.’ Then he’d asked me how I thought your backside was coming along.” he paused, obviously pleased with his reply, before continuing. “Are you going to get on your rump on display, or are you planning on being late for the Cook?”

The Cook looked a little annoyed when Cecily arrived a few minutes late, but then his face broke into a paternal grin when he saw the little huddle of boys at the door who had delivered her to him. Cecily couldn’t look back at them. Hitching up her skirt to reveal her bare and bruised bottom had been awkward, but nothing to the hurt or embarrassment as the youngsters grouped around, prodding and discussing it as though she were already in a roasting tin.

****

The stock cupboard, where the Cook had stored her until her tea-time appointment with John and his paddle, had been another revelation after her cossetted life. Cecily had discovered just what being an everyday meat-girl for the school entailed.

She’d been sat, her blouse still open and her breasts burning from the hormones, on one of the long wooden benches that ran either side of the room. Her weight on well tenderised buttocks was highly uncomfortable, but it was the sight of the other inhabitants of the room that disturbed her.

Nine women, stark naked, were ranged along the benches. They weren’t chained up, but none of them rose to greet her. Not only rank obesity was stopping them, each had a thick tube filling their mouths, running from a tank suspended in the centre of the room. Cecily didn’t think she’d ever seen so much fat and sweaty flesh in one place before, none of them looked an ounce less than the whale she’d seen being slaughtered last week. Despite their predicament, they didn’t look to be in any especial discomfort, despite not being clothed. The room was at least warm and, now Cecily sniffed, had more than a hint of flatulence about it. Only the fattest of, what she realised she should think of as her fellow meat-girls, seemed in any real distress, giving soothing little strokes to unfeasibly swollen and blackened breasts.

“Welcome to the fattening room.”

The Cook’s cheerful announcement explained what she was seeing, although in another moment she’d probably have worked it out for herself. The sound of a bowel being windily evacuated also explain the smell.

“You’ll need to get used to that.” the Cook told Cecily, seeing her wrinkle her nose. “We’ve got latrines running under the benches so we don’t have to move the sows until we need them.”

She tried, as best she could, to sit back and not make a fuss, there were clearly worse ways of heading for the school’s table than hers, but a throbbing arse and burning - far worse than last week - deep in the meat of her breasts, made it difficult to sympathise with the women beside her in the cupboard. Presumably none of them were waiting for a thrashing like the pair she’d already received.

****

Despite what awaited her upstairs, Cecily wasn’t too upset when the Cook came to get her from the stock cupboard. Her fellow occupants hadn’t taken much interest in her, not that they could have talked anyway, leaving her bored and uncomfortable. Instead they spent their time snoozing, or explosively shitting, to the background hum of the force-feeding machine overhead.

Some diversion was provided after the sounds of lunch service in the kitchen had ended. The Cook’s two assistants, still in skirts that hid almost nothing, came in to collect what, by a small margin, was the fattest woman there - a whale of overlapping blubber with an enormous purple-bruised rack. Now she knew why the meat-girl hadn’t made much noise last week, when the feeding tube was yanked out it left the woman spluttering bloodily, but making no more noise than a throaty wheeze.

The kitchen girls clearly weren’t bothered or surprised by this, giggling together over some unknown joke as they tucked the tube away and helped the woman to her feet. Despite putting up no resistance, it took some effort to get her upright. Cecily wondered how it felt to stand up for the first time in weeks, after countless pounds had been added to your weight. With both assistants supporting her, the woman was shuffled out to the slaughtering room, revealing, to Cecily’s disgust, a sore and shit-encrusted backside. If only for the sake of the boys’ health, she hoped that the meat was always well cleaned before it was slaughtered.

****

Her nerves returned again with a vengeance as she approached the sixth form common room, successfully navigated alone after she’d been careful this time to note the route as she was taken to the kitchen. Pain undoubtedly awaited her on the other side of the door, but she couldn’t repress the hope, incestuous though it was, that she’d feel her son’s rampant tool invading her again.

As before, her knock was quickly answered by a call to come in. This time though, instead of the expected empty room, there were boys standing, sitting or leaning on every side. The only part that hadn’t changed was John, standing in the middle of the room, the paddle she’d learnt to dread in his hand.

“Over the horse.” John said curtly, as though he didn’t realise they were no longer alone in the room.

As meat she couldn’t complain about an audience. So, wondering nervously what so many boys in the room would mean, she leaned over the horse, blushing as her skirt was raised to reveal her bare backside. A round of sniggers and not altogether flattering comments did nothing to put her at her ease.

If she hadn’t been howling Cecily might have been more impressed at the resilience of youth. After the morning’s splendid display with the paddle an older man might have been forced to proceed more cautiously, but John went at his task with no less vigour. It wasn’t until the last stroke had landed, as heavily as the first, that he spoke to his mother again.

“I thought I’d let the other men have a turn on your arsehole this week. Cook very kindly let me ride tonight’s meat, after it had been properly hosed down, so I wouldn’t feel so bad about missing out. Let’s hope you enjoy our first XI.”

Cecily surprising first thought was, at least they do clean the meat-girls down properly before cooking them. She didn’t really get a chance for a second thought, a muscular pelvis banged into her as she felt her rectum being brutally and swiftly filled by an unknown cock. While last week the pain of unlubricated sodomy had been worse, this time she barely noticed it, not now her twice battered arse felt like it was still feeling the thump of the paddle with every thrusting contact. She could barely imagine how bruised and swollen it must now be.

Yet underneath this, as another spent and slimy member withdrew from her bruised and aching sphincter, there was arousal at so many horny males wanting her body. With another rock-hard cock entering her, she looked to find relief.

“Bloody hell!” the latest boy, dumped his his load, laughingly announced. “The stupid cow’s pleasuring herself. She’s actually getting off on being a cum-bucket.”

It was true. The succession of randy young males after her body had proved too much for Cecily. Finding an edge on the strapping horse, she was shamelessly humping her clit against it. Lust, by the tiniest of margins, had overcome her pain.

****

This time the drive home was pure torture. Every few miles she had to stop and crouch down in the back of the car like a dog to relieve the agony in her arse, lifting up her skirt as even the rub of the delicate material was tender. Hunkered down, enjoying the slight relief to her abused buttocks, even sometimes opening her blouse to air her chafed nipples, she was glad the route home was so quiet. The thought of being caught in this vulnerable position, drying semen splattered over her arse and the thighs, made her blush even after darkness made exposure very unlikely.

Naked on top of the bed, even the touch of a sheet felt like thorns being drawn over her skin, Cecily fought to find a position where lust again overcame discomfort. After having lost all sense of decorum in front of a room full of laughing boys, not that she’d had much dignity in there anyway, why deny her dark passions when alone in her bedroom? Even the knowledge that it was the memory of John’s cock that drove her fingers hardest didn’t trouble her like it would have done a week ago.