The Butcher and the Pig Part 1 - Tenderized

Plump, succulent, juicy. Those are all words one could use to describe Rebecca Cunningham. Right now, she was at her most . Naked, blindfolded, and suspended from a pair of cuffs that were hanging on a meat hook. The warehouse she was in was cold, but not cold enough to make her shiver. Then again, there was a natural fear that sent a chill up her spine. The fear of the unknown. Then again, with that fear came a level of excitement that was unrivaled.

Rebecca was at The Butcher's mercy, and she wouldn't have it any other way. She heard the footsteps on the concrete. Each and every step came closer and closer to her until she felt the tassels of a flog rub against her plump rump. A feeling that had the hair on her neck standing up.

"Hello Piggy."

Whilst she couldn't see the man, she'd know that deep voice anywhere.

"Butcher."

A blow struck her behind, making her wince "I didn't tell you to speak."

Rebecca considered saying sorry but stopped herself in fear of being struck again.

"Well well well. Aren't you a piece of succulent meat?"

The tassels continued to graze her skin as The Butcher circled Rebecca, much like a wolf would circle its prey. Once he was around her front, he looked at her ample breasts, which sported erect nipples. From his apron, The Butcher retrieves a marker, which he uses to write on Rebecca's chest. She could feel the tip brushing against her chest, but she had no idea what The Butcher was writing.

"Do you know what I wrote on you, Piggy?"

Rebecca shakes her head from side to side.

"Speak."

"I don't know what you wrote, Butcher."

"Have a guess."

"Uh... I-uh."

*THWACK* The crop crashes against her thigh.

"I thought you were supposed to be good with words, Piggy, considering your occupation."

"Sorry Sir."

"I don't want apologies. I want you to guess."

"Oink oink?"

*THWACK* The crop strikes once more, this time striking the opposite thigh.

"Wrong."

"Butcher's Property."

The Butcher circles Rebecca, his tassels teasing her midsection. After a second or so, he strikes her breasts, causing her to grit her teeth.

"Wrong."

Rebecca thought about what to say next. She was on her third guess and she knew that the Butcher was more than willing to tease her for as long as it took. As the seconds counted down, the Butcher rubbed the tassels of his flog, reminding her of the consequences if she were to guess wrong, or not guess at all.

"Free Meat."

She tenses up, anticipating another blow, but it doesn't come. Instead, the Butcher says "Good guess."

Rebecca smiled. Whilst she found relief in giving the right answer, she didn't want to overly gloat. Not if she wanted to avoid the wrath of the man who had just struck her thrice.

"You know what that means?"

If she didn't, the footsteps made the meaning loud and clear.