December 2024 – White Slave Act of 2000

Weald Vo-Ag First long pig roast

Wednesday Morning, Weald Vo-Ag Class Livestock Area.

This story was originally written in the summer of 2024. Then something happened to it, and it got deleted. I was able to recover it via the Wayback Machine.

OK class, normally we would wait until the week of the end of the session to do decide which long pigs were ready for slaughter, but as it happens, Alison is already ready for slaughter now. We are going to live spit her for lunch today. If you can’t help or watch this, you will replace her for the rest of the session. Actually, one of you will replace her anyway, but that will not stop me from converting any of you that turn squeamish. It’s far too late in the class to drop out of the class for not being able to deal with butchering long pigs.

So I’ve got to decide on who gets picked. I have three ideas.

I pull a random name from y’all, Steve and Fred excluded, obviously. Every one has an even chance.
I just use the one of y’all that has the lowest current grade. That’s Natalie Banks, just for your information.
I select two, and y’all vote for which one you want to see converted to long-pig. Just be advised, I’ve already made the selection of the two possibilities.

So what is it going to be? Pass these ballets around. Make your choice, then fold the ballot in half and then pass them back to me.

So it looks like the winner is the voting between two girls is the winning option. OK, Christine Bass and Karen Frederick come up here. Now I’m going to pass around the ballots for these two. Please make your selection. Steve and Fred, your votes will count as 3 votes. You may not split up your votes.

OK, let’s have that vote.

Looks like Karen is the long pig. Steve and Fred’s votes pushed you over the top. Christine return to the class.

The Karen will be converted to long pig status and will be kept here in the live stock area. I’ll notify her family. She will be raised as a long pig and if she is ready at the end of summer school, she will be roasted. If Karen is not ready, she’ll stay as a long pig and will be evaluated at the end of each 9 week grading period. Maya Weiss and Kiera Terry, I know that you are signed up for the human livestock class for next year. You two will be the primary student ranchers for her. If Karen isn’t ready by the end of the school year, both of you will be hung at a school assembly. If you do get hanged, I suspect you will not be alone. In fact, I know you will not be, the school board has asked that we supply at least one girl to be sacrificed at the end of the year. They suggested that it be the girl with the lowest grade, but that’s not required, it’s up to me to select her. But that is months away, so let worry about that later. And it’s possible that the sacrifice will come from the general student body.

Karen strip, or I’ll have Steve and Fred strip you. OK, boys hold your horses, she’s stripping on her own. Don’t fret, there will be plenty of involuntary stripping once we get the big bunch of live stock next week, all of you will get at least one, I’m fairly sure.

Ok everybody, take your smartphone out and use the grading app to find Karen’s appearance and meat grades.

Did anybody not get an A for appearance and C for real meat? OK, it looks by the show of hands that several of you didn’t. We will have a class on using the app next week. One of the slavers from Eastlake will be coming out here with a full grading machine that we will be calibrating your apps with. We will be grading the class as a whole. I did mention that there would be nudity, didn’t I?

Maya and Kiera, by the end of the school year, Karen needs to be at least B+, ideally grade A on the “Real meat” scale. Her meat grade will figure highly in your class grade. I don’t care what her appearance grade is, it’s going to go down, by quite a bit.

OK, with that over, let’s get on with the making of a spit roast. You five get the spit. You six hold her down. What we are going to do is push the spit from her vagina right through her and have it come out her mouth. Then we push it a little farther and put her over the coals. All of you will take turns basting her and rotating her.

OK, got her? She’s going to thrash around quite a lot when the spit goes into her. She might not survive the spitting, but I’ve been told that sometimes a spitted girl might survive until she goes over the coals. OK, start pushing the spit though her. There should be some resistance when you get to the end of her vagina. After that, it should be fairly easy.

And yeah, she’s thrashing around. Keep a hold of her, so the spit can go straight through her.

Alison Newton long pig — Alison Newton, long pig

OK, she’s barfing up blood. That means the spit is in her throat. Keep pushing and it should come out her mouth.

OK, it’s out. You six carry her over to the coals. She seems to still be alive. Once she’s dead, take her off the coals and gut and clean her. You three are responsible for that.

Next time we roast a long pig, we will try some ways to roast one without a through the body spit. We will compare and contrast these methods. Given the length of time it takes a free-range long pig to be ready for being roasted, it’s most likely possible that we will not be doing that until in the normal school year. I’m glad that none of you flinched from your tasks. I would really not like to have any unplanned conversions to live stock. Want to warn you there will be more conversions, but not likely to long pig. I know we are short on human live stock right now, but next week should get the girls and women sold to the school. Every one will be assigned at least one to raise or train. We’re gonna start with pony girl training next. Melody is in the stable and should be ready for training.

So, keep rotating Alison until she is dead, then take her off and then the gutting crew can gut her and clean as needed. After that, she goes back over the coals and every one will take turns rotating and basting her.

You have got to be kidding me – Classic

Spellbook Slaves Front Desk.

This is a “classic” story from April 2011, edited to fit current names. Tweaked for current technology.

It’s slow, and the warehouse and slave quarters need to be cleaned, so Vicky and I are manning the front desk while most of the staff are in the back cleaning, or supervising slaves working, whichever. Mike is off at the state slaver’s convention.

We had just bought a mother and daughter pair that were not “living up to their full potential”, whatever that means. I don’t make judgements on sellers or their reasons, I just pay for the slaves if they are selling, or charge them a fee if they want to keep the slaves. It’s the business.

After this transaction was over, a really sleazy looking guy, in a leather jacket and leather pants, walks in.

Sleazy guy, “Y’all take Personal Contact conversions, right?”

Vicky allowed that we, in fact, do so.

“Well, I’ve got a problem. I’ve been fucking so many chicks over the last month that I don’t know which one I can sell off. I’ve got my security camera for my ‘chamber of love’ that records to DVD. What I would like is for y’all to watch them, figure out which one I’ve done the dirty on at least 3 times, then go get them. If you can tell me which ones qualify, I can check my little black book for their names and addresses. At least all but the tall long-haired redhead, bitch wouldn’t even give me her name, much less her digits and addy, but I think she was a one-time thing anyway”.

Vicky and I looked at each other. I did my Vulcan eyebrow. Vicky turned back to the man. “Sure, we can do that. There is a 15 dollar an hour charge for that, payable in advance. How much time are we looking at?”

Sleazy drops the stack of disks on the counter. “Well, I’ve got 12 dual layer disks. The camera system is motion triggered, so that should be all fun time.”

Who the fuck is still recording to DVD-R? We don’t even have a standalone player anymore. And I think only one of the older computers has an optical drive, granted it’s a CD/DVD/Blu-ray combo drive, but I don’t think it has been used in at least a year.

Vicky looks at me. I do a fast Google. “12 full dual layer disks would be 48 hours, assuming normal compression. 96 hours if 2X, which is a high as you can go and get reliable playback on a stock DVD player or optical drive.” Google makes me an expert on anything, at least in the short term.

Sleazy rubs both of his brain cells together. “I think it’s the slow speed. I set it up for highest quality. Thought I could make some bucks in the amateur porn business. That went bust, seems you need model release forms for that to work.”

Yeah, that or use slaves, but I don’t think a sleazeball like this “man” can afford a slave, much less a couple or three.

“That would be seven twenty, then.”

“Do you take checks?”

Vicky and I together “No” Vicky adds “Cash or credit card only. No debit cards”.

Sleazy sleazes “Can’t do that right now. I know I’ve got at least one. Let me find her on the first disc, and I’ll get back to you so we can do this.”

A Change of Job – Classic

Hill’s Fine Meat’s Hiring Hall

This is a “Classic” WSA2000 Story, originally posted Mar. 2006, taken from Usenet Google Archive.

Author’s note: This story is set in late 2001, after the Alternate Meat Source act was passed, but before it was in common use.

I look over the help wanted ads in the Eastlake World. Find this

“Inspector and driver wanted. Must have an open mind. Call Hill’s at 555-1212”

Well, that looks promising. Given my current job is driving me crazy, might as well go by and see what this is all about. I give them a call and set up an interview.

On the day of the interview, I showed up at the office they directed me to. It is a hiring agency, not their location. A nice-looking blond takes my information and directs me to wait in interview room number one. After 5 minutes or so, a man wearing a nice casual suit comes in. He reviews my resume and application form, making a few marks here and there on the papers. After a minute or so of this, he looks up, “So, Josh, what did you think of the girl that you first met when you came in here? Would you like to cum in her mouth?”

What the hell? Well, I’ve got a job, it’s not like that if I don’t get this job it’s the end of the world, might as well see where this is going. “Sure, I mean, I’m a man. Even the gay guys like blow jobs.”

He nods and makes a mark on my application, then stands up and walks to the door, “Send her in…” he calls out. A few seconds later, the blond girl from the outer office walks in. The man in the suite says points at me and says to her ‘Blow him‘. She nods and drops to her knees in front of me. She opens my fly and starts to lick and suck on my dick.

While she is doing that, Mr. Suit starts asking me questions.

“Do you hunt or fish?”

I tell him I do. He hands me a stack of papers, and tells me to rate each woman shown on them from 1 to 10. While I was doing this, then blond was going to town on my dick. About halfway through the rating, I felt my balls tighten up, and I knew I was about to blast. She could tell as well and went all the way down on me and took it directly into her throat. Mr. Suit asked me, “Did you just cum in her mouth?” When I told him that I did, that’s when he dropped the bombshell on me. “The job you’re interviewing for is ‘Alternate Meat Source Inspector’. She is a slave, soon to be alternate meat. Do you think you could kill her?”

Well, damn. I had heard about the whole White Slave Act, plus the bit about alternate sources to avoid the whole mad cow thing, but didn’t think it through. I looked down at her and my dick started to get hard again, thinking about what he just said. “Yeah, I think I could, actually”. Mr. Suit made a note on my paperwork then said, “Well, finish up your ratings, then we will move on to the hands on part of your interview”.

My hands on part? Unlike what had happened so far? Whatever.

I finished grading the pictures and handed the stack of them back to Mr. Suit.

He rapidly looked over my assigned scores, then stood up, “It seems your ratings are in line with our standards. Let’s see how you do with actual slaves. Please follow me.” As he opened the door, a pair of beefy guys came in. “Take her to the Jessica station.” Mr. Suit told them. This had a rather major effect on the girl.

She basically started freaking out, as he led me down the hallway, I heard her scream “NO! I’m not supposed to go there! NO! LET ME GO! NO, PLEASE…”

After passing a couple of doors, then entered into one. There were 5 nude slaves standing against the wall. “Please rate these 5 from one to 10”

I looked at them “Seven, Eight, Six, Eight, Seven”.

Mr. Suit nodded, and made a notation on my form.

“OK, here, use this and rate how tight they are”, handing me a largish rubber dildo.

OK, whatever. I walked up to the first, told her to turn sideways and bend at the waist. I applied a bit of spit to the dildo, then pushed it up into her. Moved it back and forth a few times, then pulled it out. Went on to the next slave and repeated the process, however, I didn’t need to lube it up anymore. Did the same to the other 3.

“OK, number 2 seems the tightest, with 1 and 4 seeming like they were next. 3 and 5 are rather loose, with 5 being the loosest.”

Mr. Suit made some other notes on my forms. “OK, now check how firm their breasts are.”

OK, again, whatever, like I’m not going to want to cop a feel off several naked chicks. I grabbed each one’s tits in series. “In order of firmness: 2, 3, 4, 1, and 5”.

Mr. Suit made more marks. “OK, let’s move on to the final hands on test.”

Mr. Suit led me through a set of doors on the side of the room. They opened into a room all done in white tile. Even had a drain in the center of the floor. However, what I first noticed was the chick that had taken my forms and had sucked my dick during the early parts of the interview was strapped naked onto this machine. There was a 7-foot-long steel bar sticking out of her pussy, and there seemed to be a lot of odd gearing and strange bit of machines attached to this whole thing.

Mr. Suit walks over to her and puts his hand on the machine. “Josh, meet Karen Caraway, Karen was sold into slavery by her boyfriend about 6 months ago. The thing she is strapped to is called a “Jessica 3000”. It’s designed to make Karen here into a spit roast. The job you are interviewing for is “An Alternate Meat Evaluator”, which means you will be evaluating women for their potential as meat. Your tests so far have shown that your personal taste, so to speak, in women, matches up with our current grading guidelines. This is your final test.”

He hands me a remote control with a green, red, and black button on it.

“This controls the Jessica 3000. The green button will release Karen, and she will go back to being one of our administrative staff for at least 6 months. The red button will trigger a blade at her throat, cutting it, then start the gutting and impalement cycle after she has died. The black button will gut her and impale her alive. Her fate is up to you.”

I looked down at Karen. She looked back up at me, silently. I remembered her lips and tongue on my dick, and felt myself getting harder (it’s not like I haven’t been hard for the last half hour as it is). I looked down at the remote, I looked back at her, then at the remote, and finally at Mr. Suit. “What about the girls that I just graded?”

“They will be processed this afternoon. Karen is the only optional one” I nodded, and looked down at the remote. Without much thought, my thumb fell on the black button. I hesitated for a second or two, then pushed it.

The machine sprang to life. The poll, or spit I guess, started to push its way into her. Blood started dripping out of her pussy. The machine moved the spit at about a foot a second or so, so after 5 or 6 seconds, blood started to come out of her mouth, followed by the steel rod erupting from between her lips. It was like a perverse reverse blow job. From underneath her, I heard a motor start up and what sounded like a buzz saw spinning.

“That’s the gutting system” Mr. Suit announced. “We are having some technical difficulties with it right now, but in general, it removes the upper and lower intestinal track, plus the liver and most of the other internal organs. It’s still not working 100%. We’ve got some people working on fixing it now. Oh, when can you start?”

That was 4 years ago. I don’t know how many women I have graded in this job, it seems like thousands. Most of them don’t end up like Karen did, but that’s something I never forget, when I say a woman is “Grade A, with the Live Roaster Endorsement”, I remember Karen on that machine. And my dick gets a little harder.

Dean Marshall gets fired – Classic

This is a “Classic” story from Sept. 2015. Names and student levels have been changed to fit current canon.

Dutch Hall Preparatory School, Mid-Fall.

So, here it is, a new day of glory. The sun is shinning, I’ve got a new crop of Mistress to train, and I’m eagerly awaiting face-fucking Dawnetta, my sponsored slave student and protégé.

Hm. The door is unlocked. No big, Dawnetta has a key, so I hope she is already in.

Oh, yeah, she’s in. I take a look around the room and it’s not good. There is an adult woman, that I don’t recognize, on the rack. Most of the video cameras in the room are aimed at the woman on the rack. Dawnetta just tightened the rack another notch. The woman moans weakly. I hear, from the intercom on my desk, Dean Marshall’s voice.

Oh. Yeah, pull that cunt’s arms off.

Ah, Dawnetta, who is this on the rack?

I have no idea. Dean Marshall brought her in, told me to strip her, then put her on the “Hollywood” rack and follow his instructions when he used the intercom. We’ve been at it for about 45 minutes now.

Well. Shit. This cannot be good. I walk over to the desk, and pick up the phone, taking it out of intercom mode.

Care to explain to me who you are having my slave torture via remote control?

Oh, sure. That is Monique Wright, She is a substitute teacher, for boys English, I think.

We are using slaves as teachers for the boys classes now?

No, of course not!

So, she’s not a slave?

No, or yes. I mean, she’s not a slave.

Then why, pray tell, is she having her arms and legs pulled out of their sockets, and if I understand the camera set up in here, as part of a live show?

Because I asked, nicely I might add, for a blow job from those lips of hers, and she turned me down.

Oh, freaking shit. This is way bad. Like this could close the school bad.

Dawnetta! Take her off that rack NOW and call the nurse!

I admit that might have been a bit of a shout by me. Possibly, even a scream.

NOOOO PULL THE BITCH APART!

I have had it with him. I turn off the phone. Well, actually I threw it across the room. Same thing.

Dawnetta, to her credit, had the mystery lady off the rack in record time. I need to find out where she hides that knife she used to cut the ropes. I wasn’t aware she had a carry knife. Damn sharp at that.

Ah, I know this is going to sound weird because I know you aren’t OK, but does anything feel more out of place than it should?

Please, God, no dislocated limbs.

God must have heard me.

No, I’m sore, but nothing feels dislocated. I dislocated my arm once as a child, so I know what it feels like. I’m Monique Wright, and yes, I was to teach English II in the boys school today. Thank you, Dawnetta. The last bit was addressed to Dawnetta as she returned Monique her clothing.

Ms. Wright? You seem fairly calm for someone who was being tortured for almost an hour.

Dawnetta spoke up. Well, she really wasn’t getting the full effect for the first 30 minutes or so. Marshall wanted it to be a slow build up.

I also have a fairly high pain tolerance, Mr. Branch, is it? That being said, the last 10 minutes were most unpleasant, and I would rather not undergo that every again. I also want that toad Marshall balls on a platter. Failing that, I want him fired and his membership in whatever professional organization that allows him to have this job revoked.

Right about then, the school nurse runs in, rapidly followed by what seems like every member of the faculty. Bring up the rear is Hugo Shelton, the current head of the school executive board.

Ms. Wright, I can assure you that Mr. Marshall’s tenure in his office will last exactly however long it takes me to get to his office. Given that Mr. Branch seems to have broken the phone, I cannot terminate his employment over it.

Hugo is old school. Doesn’t have a smartphone.

A dozen phones are waved in his face, “Use this one…” by most of the teachers.

No, I think this requires a personal touch. And possibly a physical application that might be a bit more than a touch. Ms. Wright, do you have children?

Yes. I have six daughters and a son. Why do you ask?

In return for you not, ah, suing, I am willing to offer full scholarship to all of your daughters and your son. Assuming admission to a university on graduation, a full scholarship to all seven for their undergraduate degree.

Monique looks thoughtful. What accreditation do you need to be a dean of students here?

Hugo looks back equally thoughtfully. Well, the legal requirement is a teaching certificate from the state. There are some traditional other qualities we look for…

Here is the deal. I take your offer for my son. You hire me as dean, and you blow your other qualities out your ass. I also understand that you offer a “Certified Mistress” course. I, of course, will be attending as an adult student, free of charge, and without the possibility of random conversion or killing. You don’t have to treat my daughters any different from any other female students. I understand you have several levels for females students. I don’t want them slaves or be charity whores, but treating them as “Red” status will be just fine. It’s the 21st century, and they need to learn how to survive without being protected from above.

Hugo, to his credit, doesn’t even blink. Your offer is most generous, and we are glad that you have accepted our offer of employment as Dean of Students.

Yeah, it’s going to be a fun fall term. The only downside, I don’t think I will get that blow job from Dawnetta this morning.