tagFetishJust Meat

Just Meat

byjusduit©

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The following is fiction, intended to entertain. If it doesn't, by all means erase, exit or otherwise eliminate it from your life, as is your right. If I offend or disturb you in anyway, I am sorry, for that is not my intention. If by chance, I make you smile, or maybe wiggle in your seat, well, you'll be getting a touch of what I felt while writing this story. And that's exactly why I wrote it. Thank you sincerely, for your precious time.

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Chapter One

Fog, whispers, a hint of light, "Was it dawn already?" An idyllic scene if it weren't for the fact he couldn't move. Pulling on his powerful arms produced nothing but an isometric exercise, anchored at his wrists, arms perpendicular to his body. His legs were similarly locked, ankles perhaps three feet apart. There was no pain, only an absolute restraint. He was helpless, but why?

"He's comin' 'round," A voice said from somewhere near.

The fog in his mind was clearing faster than that in his eyes. He blinked, pulled on all his limbs again, struggling to rise up from the abyss. Then something touched his tensioned bicep.

"Round is right," Another voice said as the hand grazed over the smooth but very hard curve of his muscles.

"Yes, but hard is good too," Yet another voice chimed in. "This the best you can do?"

He was upright! His vision still failed, but sensory perceptions were coming on line. His mostly limp cock was suddenly cupped, squeezed and pulled. Naturally, this instantly initiated the member's inevitable rise. He fought the urge, trying to concern himself with his safety before lust, but the damn thing had a mind of its own. The hand was foreign to him, boldly stealing liberties only he had the authority to grant. Who the hell was fondling him?

"Oh! A sensitive man!" The woman said in a mocking voice, reacting to the growth. "I like a sensitive man, don't you Cherry?" There was a hiccup of a chuckle as the hand continued to work on his shaft.

The hand on his bicep squeezed tightly on his mass, joined by another attempting in vain to circle his arm. "Oh yes, Mar... ah, Musk, I certainly do," Said the voice. There was a chuckle between the women. He instinctively flexed a massive bicep and the arm massage stopped while the same voice asked, "Are we sure he can't get loose?"

There was surely no doubt in his mind. Short of a Sampson style of grunt and grind against his bindings, he'd been able to produce absolutely no indication of escape. Still, he tensed his arms and legs again, trying with his considerable strength to pull them away from their ties.

The following guttural laugh had an even deeper tone than that of the one called "Musk," and therefore signified a third woman in the vicinity. "I'm sure all right, Cherry. He's not going anywhere, baby. He's ours!"

The voice rang a bell, but was immediately forgotten as a hand slammed smartly down on his chest. He wished he could see the pink imprint it was sure to have made, but he could see nothing more than an occasional hint of a shadow in front of him.

"OH! That must have hurt," Said the voice named "Musk."

"You don't have to worry, Musk. Does she Mr. Bartholomew Swain?" The lowest of the voices, still with no name, seemed dangerous. The tone was manlike, and the slap was powerful. The hand lifted and came down hard again on his bare chest, this time over his left nipple.

How did she/he know his name! None of these voices was the least bit familiar. Wait, did he recognize the third voice? Why was he tied up, and who had managed to subdue him long enough to do so? Why couldn't he see them plainly? What the hell was going on? He suddenly felt panicked. Something was on his head, hell, in his head!

The hand crashed hard on the chest again, now on his right nipple. He must look a lustful sight, he thought – a complete hand print on each nipple and the center of his lightly haired chest. His cock was at full mast.

A shadow appeared in his vision, was it coming back? Unfortunately, he could not make out details. He instinctively attempted to speak, and found his mouth full, stretched like his body, his jaws wide open. How had he missed that? What other sensations were attacking him? The panic grew.

"Oh look, girls. He's waking up now. The drug is wearing off." It was the voice of Musk again.

What the hell kind of name was "Musk?" And no one really named their kid "Cherry," did they? Bart's mind swirled as he felt the hand on his chest begin to slide down his sternum. He pictured the pink imprints left above as the fingers slowly slipped below.

The low voice barked again, "He's just meat, ladies, nothing more, just meat." There was silence for a moment, and then, "And he's ours."

Something smacked his left ass cheek, hard. The smack and severity of the sting told him he'd been paddled with something hard. Frustratingly, he felt his dick jump too.

Musk said, "Yeah." She tugged again on his shaft, continuing to coax it into full mast muster, despite his efforts to halt the process. "Do that again Ban! He really likes it. Here Cherry, here, put your other hand on this with mine. Feel his cock jump."

"Ban?" He wondered, searching his memory for recollection of any of them.

Another hand joined Musk's, and another paddle smack on his ass brought forth the desired reaction. Both women giggled, one squeezing his balls with her other hand, a little harder than he liked.

"That's right girls," The scary, guttural bitch, if she was a bitch, said with some cynicism in her voice. "Just meat." Another smack on his ass. "Isn't that right, Mr. Swain? Mr. Meat. You are meat, on the hook, our meat, on our hook." Another smack.

What kind of name was "Ban?" Why the hell was she so bitter? What did he do to offend her? And why were three women so pissed off at him? He couldn't think of a single person he'd offended recently, let alone three.

Bart was a steel worker in New York's Borough of the Bronx, a hard working, guy's guy. He spent his free time at the gym and lifted weights like they were meant for him. He liked how his physique opened eyes, at work and at the occasional bar he would drink at. He especially liked how the workouts made him feel afterward. The pulsing power of his body let him walk with pride and honor through the world, unafraid and unbothered, until now. So much for the power of physique – he concentrated on the power of will.

Another paddle on his ass brought another pulse through his dick and more tugs and squeezes on his balls and cock. More paddles landed. The women laughed at the sureness of the reaction, and at the humiliation of such a powerful man.

"Coming around," He thought. They had drugged him, and somehow extracted him from the bar. He remembered the bar. There was a gorgeous, black, blond at the bar, one he'd seen before, but never talked to. She wasn't plastic, despite the incongruous look. She handled it with class and pride, a pride he respected, quiet yet speaking volumes to anyone who approached.

He'd eyed her keenly a number of times, each with a familiar stirring in his crotch. She was built like a brick shithouse, large breasts that only a man like himself could handle properly, and wide hips to receive only the largest of men. At least that's the way he thought of her.

That night, she offered him a drink that night, and like a fool he refused, as he had at least once before. He would never do anything to obligate himself to another. He'd grant favors anytime, but never ask for or accept a single one. The blond seemed pissed at his refusal, despite his respectful smile. He offered to buy her one in return, but the offense was already committed and she refused him right back. Bart tried now to remember what he'd done to piss her off so much.

Chapter Two

His body suddenly rotated in three dimensional space. A vision of an astronaut, strapped in a gyro, one of those sensory testing devices to see how long before you puked, flashed through his mind. But in this case, just as quickly as he'd begun to spin, he stopped. Flat on his back, suspended strangely on a complicated combination of support points, he felt a soft but firm support under his mid to upper back, something padded, and maybe half the width of his frame. His head was resting on something similar, just a little softer, and also covered with something reminding him of a vinyl chair. He was comfortable but not overly so. His lower torso was held up at his cheeks with similar vinyl cushions, and his wrists and ankles were still unmoving. He'd gone from standing to a rack on the level.

He remembered her bulging shirt. The flesh of her breasts were both inviting and challenging, practically shouting, "Come and get us!" Her long blond hair looked natural, though it had to be died of course, and the rest of her body was healthy trim. Her voice! He remembered how he had been moved by the low, exotic sound of the woman. He'd wondered what it would be like to get such a powerful woman in bed, someone who would challenge him instead of just lying back and surrendering.

"I need a wash, girls," The big blond named Ban said. "You two keep him busy."

The hands resumed their work on his groin and he took the break from the paddling to try to remember more. The beautiful black woman had muscular arms surging from her blouse. He hadn't seen her legs, but somehow he knew she was a body builder. The arms and voice had said it all. He remembered being more interested than he'd first thought. Excusing himself from their very brief and unsuccessful words, he got up from his stool and headed for the men's room.

The hands began to pull harder on his cock and balls, the two women jockeying for position. Then a mouth engulfed the head of his shaft and a finger simultaneously rummaged around his ass. It all felt too good to complain, and yet it was nothing less than rape. He fought the ties, but gave up quickly. He realized his heart wasn't that set on freedom.

"That was it!" He thought in a moment of renewed clarity. When he'd gone to the can, she'd drugged his bear. He'd come back, continued to sip away while carrying on some conversation with the Amazon, and then... nothing. That was the end of his memory. But there was certainly no question in his mind. It had to be her who was now known as Ban. Damn! He'd been drugged, kidnapped and was now being set up for the ultimate humiliation, or violation. He shuddered.

"He likes it! Musk, he likes it so, doesn't he?" Cherry's voice asked with some glee.

There was a moment of hesitation, for Bart knew now it was Musk who was sucking the head of his cock. She let him go and answered, "Wouldn't you, darling?" Then the suction resumed.

The gag was pulled roughly from his mouth and just as suddenly he couldn't breath. It happened so fast. A shadow past over, and then he was smothered. He bucked, and got nowhere. He blew, and air left his lungs, but it would not come back. His body convulsed and the first pangs of fear ripped through his brain. Was this it?

The big bad black blond laughed loudly, her husky guffaw infuriating him. He was dying and she was laughing? Then the smother lifted, and he sucked a lungful of air. He heaved it all back out and took another drink of the life giving gas. The blond laughed again and said, "What's a matter, Mr. Meat? Huh? You afraid of three little ladies?" She laughed some more before ordering, "Wash me!"

Bart suspected that the other two women, silent in Ban's glee, were not as sadistic. He decided to store that data in hopes he could use it later. Then the smother returned.

This time Bart realized that cutting off his air was not the objective, but a side effect. The blond wanted him eating her wet pussy and was going to stop at nothing short of his asphyxiation to see him do it. He moved his lips on her crotch.

"Ahhh!" The bitch said, "Now you're getting the picture."

But it wasn't her pussy. In a further act of humiliation, the bitch had slammed her ass in his mouth. He had no choice but to service her. There was no use fighting back. What could he accomplish against such odds? His tongue emerged and speared her ass to get it over with.

"That's better, Mr. Meat," She said, rocking her tightly puckered asshole back and forth over his lips.

Much to his own surprise, he found himself trying to get at her pussy! What the hell was going on here? He'd been kidnapped, secured unfailingly to some special device, and was now being violated in just about every way he could imagine. And he wanted to suck her pussy?

"I know what you're thinking, Mr. Meat. But you can't have it. Not yet anyway. You'll just have to live with what you get. That's it now, just keep sticking that tongue a bit further up my ass. Yeah... very nice." She rocked on his face.

The other two women must have been getting horny while touching and sucking him, and watching their apparent leader pummel him with her ass. One minute he had hands and a mouth on his cock, and the next, he had a pussy wrapped tightly around it. The finger in his ass came out at one point, and was replaced by two. The rape was developing quickly.

"Oh my God!" Musk exclaimed, obviously the one riding his groin.

He had no way of knowing how far off the ground he was, or how they were supporting their own weights. He knew only that one womanly crotch was forcing him to gorge on her ass, and another was forcing his cock to penetrate a full eight inches into that which he could feel but not see. He was in heaven and hell, at once.

Lust was winning the struggle in his mind. The fingers in his ass were the crushing blow. He couldn't take someone working his cock and ass at the same time. It was just too much. If they kept this up, he'd be cuming in no time.

Sure enough, his body lurched upward as best it could, and the first burst of sperm shot up into Musk. Shit began to happen fast.

"What!" Ban demanded, "Did he just cum!?" She rose and dropped on his face hard.

"Ohhh yes," Said Musk in an ethereal tone. "And he still is – a gusher like I've never seen."

He felt what had to be Cherry's face around his balls, her tongue lashing away, probably lapping up his cum spilling from Musk's molten pussy. Seeing this must have infuriated Ban even more. "Damnit!!! You mother fucker! Cum for them and leave me with a measly tongue licking?" She bounced on him a couple more times, squishing his head onto the vinyl cushion, then jumped off entirely.

There was a commotion all around him. Ban ordered the two women off his lap. He felt the fingers withdraw from his ass, and the pussy leave his softening cock to wave in the relatively cool air. All sensations stopped, except for the restraints of course. There was silence, nothing more than the lingering smells of sex and sweat in the air. He sensed them, but could not swear they were there. It wasn't too long however, before he heard whispering some distance away. He wondered if this was the end of his life.

Chapter Three

Time passed, though his sense of it was dreamy. His cock went limp. His body chilled. The room remained silent. He thought more about the night before. He could not add much to his recollection. Ban had to be the blond black amazon, and maybe the other two were just friends, or even girl toys of hers. The sadistic bitch didn't like them getting his jiz one bit, and pummeled his face with her ass. She was jealous as hell and dangerous. He was about to shout, to demand to know what the hell was going on, when the device he was secured to flipped again.

His body tensed involuntarily as the violent movement turned him on his lengthwise axis. Suspended, face down, he began to assess strange new feelings. His head was held in place with a band wrapped tightly over his forehead. He thought he'd come out of the effects of whatever drug she'd given him, but he hadn't noticed the band before. Blindfolded with the gauze as he was, he hadn't really had the need to rise up and attempt to look around.

His waist was similarly secured with a wide, softened belt of some sort, fastened just above his loins and holding him to the device now above him. He felt his legs being manipulated, his knees buckled and pushed downward, though still attached to something. His ankles were pulled up and out, pushed almost painfully beside his upper thighs. His knees were spread outward like his arms, though they would simply not go that far, at least as long as he was alive.

His back arched upward at both ends, the control of the device amazing Bart, bearing some similarities to equipment in a sophisticated gym. He heard whirring sounds each time another piece moved. It was as if he was attached to some kind of robotic creature that was having its way with him while serving him up to its little play pals. He felt more helpless than he had ever felt in his life, as his knees were suddenly pushed almost parallel to his body.

"Get that table," The bitch ordered.

Bart heard it dragged across the floor and somewhere under him.

"Now that chair," She ordered the other of her two helpers.

Bart heard wheels, casters probably, move across the hard floor and stop somewhere near his head.

"Cherry, help me with Musk," The bitch ordered again.

Bart heard shuffling and even a grunt. They were working just beyond his head. He saw shadows, but could not discern a single movement he recognized. Then he smelled the unmistakable smell of sex, very close to his nostrils, just before a stanky, sperm filled pussy slopped up against his face.

"Eat it, Meat!" Ban ordered from somewhere beside him, the pussy someone else's, "And I don't wanna see another drop spilled! You reap what you sow."

He did. Though the bulk of his cum had already dripped or been scrapped from his cock's previous penetration, a sufficient quantity remained to assault both his nose and his tongue. He tasted the salty mix of his jiz and hers and gagged once, before managing to suck the first load into his mouth and down his throat. He lashed out again with his tongue, hoping to keep Ban satisfied with his progress. His tongue speared the cuntal tunnel. His mind angered, and he attacked the offending hole. Ironically, after the initial shock of eating his own cum, he found he rather liked it, a fact he would surely not share with his captors.

"On your knees, Cherry, on the table." Ban ordered people around like a drill sergeant.

Bart felt someone brush his side, then his stomach in several places. Something was amiss, that was for sure, and it had something to do with being under him. There were other orders, softer and so quiet he barely heard the noise, let alone the words. His ears were suddenly clapped between thighs that kept closing in on his head. About all he could add to his current understanding of the situation was that the woman he was eating had her heels digging into his back to pull her pussy harder and harder onto his face. She was gasping in ecstasy, and in no further need of help.

"Now back up," Ban ordered Cherry.

Bart felt her push against his cock.

"Is it going to hurt, bad?" Cherry whimpered.

"Of course it is! That's half the fun of it! It hurts like hell!" Ban hesitated, as if trying to think of what to do next. Then she said in a softer tone, "And then the pain rubs off while the cock goes in. You're in for one of the greatest moments of your life, Cherry." Her voice had gone almost soft. "Now back into it."

Bart was sure he was about to fuck a virgin, and he was suddenly shocked. What if she bled? What if he ripped her open with his eight inch member? How old was she? What if she ran to the cops, with both the others backing her up? He was so exposed he shivered again.

The next instant was so filled with noise, sensations and surprise he would scarcely remember it all. Ban said, "Like we talked about it, NOW!"

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