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Vignettes from the slave pits

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theseus

Governor
Summer Job

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“This is the best summer job I have ever had,” thought Susie as she came out of the water.

She had signed on as a ‘Domestic Utility’ at the Paradise Resort. The pay was better than waitressing or being a cashier in a supermarket, and she was told that the tips were often very generous. Just getting there was exciting, the flying boat circling over the jewel-like islands of the tropical atoll before landing in the crystal clear lagoon.

This was her fourth day here. For the first three days the guests in the villa where she was a utility were a middle-aged couple. It had been fun. She and her fellow utility, Jack, had worked hard, seeing to the couple’s every need. The tips had been good, too.

The new guests were two young men. They were both obviously athletes, beautifully built and fit. It was also clear that they were very interested in each other, as well as in Jack and Susie. Ten minutes previously she had been the filling in a jock sandwich, now, the cum washed from her body, she was ready for more.

“We’ll do a foursome this time,” the one guest said, “Jack can join us.”

She couldn’t wait! This certainly beat the hell out of waitressing!
 

theseus

Governor
Caned! Again!

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It was so hard being a slave! There were so many rules! It was impossible to remember all of them, and it was so easy to do something wrong! And each time she did, no matter how small the offence, it was her poor body that paid the price.

This time she had spilt a few grains of sugar while serving her master his tea. The punishment? Six strokes of the thin cane on her poor bottom.

She hated the cane! It hurt so much, and the pain lasted for so long!

It was always the same. She would be bent over, her hands gripping her ankles. If she let go the punishment would start from scratch, and would be doubled. Her fingers gripped her ankles like vice grips! She had to count, and ask for the next one, and thank him for each painful, searing stroke! If she forgot, he started from scratch!

Six times! “Please, Sir, punish me. Give me the first stroke.” The little tap to mark the spot. The whistle of the cane. The searing pain! All she wanted to do was straighten up and cup her hands over her poor, abused bottom. “One, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” A deep, sobbing breath. It hurt so much! “Please, Sir, punish me. Please give me the second stroke.” Six times!

She collapsed, sobbing, on the bed. The worst was still to come. She sobbed quietly as she heard him undo his belt, slide down the zipper of his trousers. Her bottom was so sore. He straddled her. “Relax! It will hurt less! Relax!” Her mind screamed silently. She screamed as his hands gripped the abused globes, pulling them apart. Felt the blunt pressure against her rosebud, the pain as he forced himself into her.

It was hard, being a slave!
 

theseus

Governor
Wife for Sale.

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Saturday morning.

The Kensington street market is buzzing. There is such a variety of objects for sale and so many buyers keen to find a bargain.

At the Used Wives Stall Veronica is about to go on the block. She has been on show for three hours, the sigh at her feet advertising her sale.


Wife for sale or lease. (Minimum one week)
Used by only one careful husband. Well trained. No limits. Excellent cocksucker.


She had watched the four women previous to her being sold. All wives, all from the neighbourhood. She had winced in embarrassment as old Maggie was offered up. She was over fifty, and decidedly wrinkly. The auctioneer had worked hard until eventually she went for $200, for a four week lease. Young Liz, married for just a year, blushed furiously as the auctioneer described her body and her skills. She looked so cute, with her creamy skin and tumble of fiery red hair. The bulge of her pregnancy was just beginning to show. She went for $3000 for a one month lease. No limits.

Veronica hoped she would sell for a decent price. So many of the buyers were friends, neighbours, people she knew. No limits! That was the scary part. No limits! Whoever bought her could use her for anything, anything at all.

Listening to the bidding, she felt the excitement mount. The competition for her body was brisk! She was a desirable object!

“Sold! Sold to Ted Flanagan for $5500! On a two month lease!

Flanagan strode up, smiling broadly, wallet in hand. His big mastiff, his constant companion, strained at its leash. He paid over the money and took her leash, leading her off down the street.

He patted the dog on the head, lovingly. “A fine bitch, boy. We’re going to have ourselves a lot of fun with this one!”
 

theseus

Governor
Irish slaves in Algiers.

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The last place in the world that sisters Sinead and Bridget thought they would be in the summer of 1631 was the slave market in Algiers. In fact, until June of that year neither of them had even known of the existence of Algiers. Their peaceful Irish village knew little of what happened in villages ten miles away, let alone of Africa.

That all ended when the Barbary slavers under Murad Reis attacked the sleepy village! The men had tried to fight, but pitchforks and spades were of little use against bloodthirsty pirates. The fortunate ones died defending their homes; for the rest, there was the horror of life as slaves.

The men soon found themselves chained to the oars of the galleys, labouring naked, their backs seared by the whips of the overseers. The horror was exacerbated by the fact that the leader of the pirates was a white man! A Dutchman, converted to Islam.

For the women there was a worse fate. After watching their menfolk, husbands, fathers, brothers, children, even the priest being stripped naked, they were herded into the holds of the pirate vessels. Ahead of them was a life of slavery in the harems of Africa. Sinead and Bridget were appalled by what was done to them. A wrinkled woman, her skin like leather, examined each of the younger women, fingers probing deeply into their most private parts. Those found to be virgins were kept separate from the others. Surprisingly, the woman spoke stilted English, with the accent of the Cornish coast. For the other women, the nightmare began immediately, as the crew took their pleasure, repeatedly, on their bodies.

Weeks later, they arrived in Algiers. Everything was strange and new. By now most of the women were naked or dressed in rags, their clothes having suffered on the voyage, and the slavers deeming clothing superfluous for slaves. The virgins were once more separated from the rest. They were all connected together by chains attached to iron collars around their throats. The last vestiges of clothing were stripped from them before they were marched to a large building near the town square. Here they would be prepared for sale.

They were greeted by several women, all of middle age, all wearing the collars of slavery. There were also two young men, if men they could still be called. For the first time the sisters saw the mutilation of the eunuch. The smooth scar tissues where their manhood had once been. They were washed, their bodies were cleaned of all hair, something no Christian woman would dream of. They were perfumed, their hair combed until it glowed. Naked, they were taken to the slave market to be displayed, like livestock.

Their flaming hair drew attention. Many came to see them, to touch them, to weigh their breasts in dark hands, to feel the firmness of breast and buttock, to penetrate and defile their bodies. It seemed they were to be sold as a pair, placed in the same enclosure. They could see and hear as one slave after another was sold. Despairingly, they clung to each other, steeling themselves for the ultimate shame of being sold as objects.

The green fields of Ireland were a very, very long way away.
 

Dauphin

Spectator
The Ramp

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Like many other young girls, Lucy had often dreamed about being a model. Dreamed of being one of those incredibly beautiful women who stalked down the ramps at the fashion shows showing off beautiful, expensive and often daring fashions.

Part of that dream had come true! She was walking on the ramp, showing herself to the watching buyers. What was missing were the clothes.

Unlike most of the other women on show, Lucy had not made the conscious decision to sell herself into slavery. They had contracts that outlined the conditions of their voluntary slavery. The limits to their use and the way that their share of the purchase price of their bodies would be invested to await the freedom that awaited them at the end of their periods of servitude. They wanted to be here!

Lucy was different! Her shaven head, the handcuffs that bound her hands behind her back and the brand burned deep into her buttock identified her as a convict! A criminal sentenced to what was termed “Penal Servitude”. The words of the judge echoed in her mind as she walked along the ramp, her body on view to all. “Drug smuggling is a very serious offence. I accept that you did not at first know what was in the package, but it must have occurred to you that the amount you were offered had to indicate that it was illegal. I have taken this into consideration in deciding on your sentence. You will serve twenty five years of penal servitude! There will be no limits to your use. The only limit will be that your owner, or owners, must not do anything that will end your life. At the end of twenty five years you may be paroled, to work for the rest of your natural life at prescribed employment.”

She had been taken away, her head shaved and the brand burned into her buttock. Now she was on show, soon to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. What would become of her? What would her life be?

She paced the length of the ramp. Like the beautiful woman of her dreams. Naked, exposed! There was no beautiful gown. Just her beautiful body.

Twenty five years, as a slave!
Really nice idea, my friend. I wish you would continue the short stories.
 

Dauphin

Spectator
It doesn’t get any easier!

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Every sale is stressful! There is always the uncertainty about the purchaser. Male, or female, or even a couple? Kind? Or cruel? Gentle? Or unbearably perverted?

As the slave gets older the stress increases. With each sale the price drops, the bidding is slower. “Who will buy me? Where will I go?”

Mary had been in this situation many, many times. On the viewing block, her body open for inspection. This time she was truly frightened. She knew she was well past the first bloom of youth. Knew that her skin was no longer as elastic as it had been, her breasts no longer as firm, her thighs just a little bit flabby. Would she still attract an individual buyer?

She was experienced, and very skilled, but this sale could be the one that launched her down the slippery slope! This sale could be the one where the auctioneer announced, “Sold to XYZ brothel!” After that it would all be downhill. Ten tricks a day, then fifteen, then twenty. Then back on the block, this time bought by a cheap dockside brothel. Eventually, worn out, she would be giving fucks and blowjobs in an alleyway at the back of a sleazy bar. Please, let her buyer be an individual!

The auctioneer started his patter. As she struggled to get to her feet, she heard the ominous introduction.

“Lot number fifty-four, ladies and gentlemen. Here we have a well used, thirty-nine year old slave. Very skilled in her trade, and still in excellent shape for her age. Now what am I bid? Shall we say one hundred?

Please, please, not the brothel, not this time, please.
Really nice story. I read a true story about a young slave girl in Ancient Rome. She proceed against her owner because she believed her slavery would be a mistake and she would have been born as a free girl. As a slave of course she lost the court case. As punishement, her owner sold her to a brothel. There she had to work as a wench and she had to please every man who paid for her service. The report was surviving in historic court papers.
 
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Dauphin

Spectator
I also read about a brothel at the Caribic in 18th or 19th century. It was a house with some small service rooms for the prostitutes and open 24 hours a day. Only negresses and mulattas were used as wench. In every room the men found a bed and a bucket full with water and there was wating a stripped black girl for customers. The slave girls were chained to the bed. They had to wear an iron neck ring with a long chain that was fixed on a ring in the wall. So they could move but not leave the room without a permission of the owner.

The negresses had to stay at the room day and night and they had to offer their naked body to every client. If no customer was interested in their service they could rest for a spell until the next man had a look at them.

An old slave woman had to supervise the girls and to keep the house. She had to collect the money from the whoremongers and she was instructed to whip the girls if the customers was not satisfied about the service. The men also could pay an addition if they wished to see their girl beeing whipped while they used her.

The old woman also had to call for help if there was some trouble with the clients.

Mostly the negresses had to stay at the house for some weeks or months to suffer as punishment for bad working or disobedience.
 
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theseus

Governor
Farm Implement

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This was the ultimate insult!

She could have lived with him divorcing her, even though she had been a good and faithful wife for almost thirty years. She could even have come to terms with him keeping a mistress. She had never expected this!

He had come home one evening, as usual, greeted her with a peck on the cheek, as usual, and then called her into the living room. He was sitting in his usual chair. “Get undressed!”

She was surprised at the order, but he had been playing silly sex games recently, and she would do almost anything to please him. She undressed slowly, trying to tease him. He was reading the newspaper.

He looked at her over the top of the paper. “That shaggy bush must go! Go to the bathroom and shave yourself clean!”

She started to protest, then thought better of it. It was a small thing to do to please him.

Half an hour later, smooth as a baby and feeling very, very naked, she presented herself to him. He looked her up and down. “Come here!” His touch on her newly bare vagina sent a thrill through her. “Well done.” His voice was neutral as his fingers played with the soft folds. “You have been a good wife, but it is time for you to go. Look at yourself! Your tits are sagging, your thighs are thick and flabby, you have a paunch.”

She pulled away from him, offended and hurt! “Darling, I’m fifty-two! I’m in pretty good shape for my age.” She almost sobbed.

He nodded. “You are, and that is why the dealer was prepared to take you as part payment.”

“Part payment? Take me as part payment? For what?” Her voice was broken now.

The doorbell rang. “Stay here! Don’t move!”

He returned with a smartly dressed man and a very pretty young woman, almost a girl.

Jess tried to cover herself, to hide. “Stand still! Drop your hands! Part payment for Pearl,” He gestured at the girl.

Jess was dumbstruck! “Part payment? You bought her?”

He nodded, “And I’m selling you.”

The visitor stepped forward, a pair of handcuffs appearing in his hands. “She’s not too bad. Not collector quality, of course, very much agricultural. She’ll fetch a couple of thousand.”

She went through the humiliating process of being graded, the grader sucking her teeth and finally scrawling, “Grade D, Agriculture/Labour” on her rump with indelible pen.

The auction was equally humiliating, with the auctioneer working hard to get any bids at all. Three days later she was on a farm. The farmer had paid fifteen hundred for her. He was a stolid man in his sixties. He had fucked her, of course, in all three holes. The third hole was tight and almost unused. “Not bad for an old slag. Cunt is a bit sloppy, But the rest is okay. Sunburn will hurt for the first few weeks, but that will pass.” He slapped her on her rump. “No sense in chaining you,” he said. “Where would a naked old slag like you run to? You’ll sleep with the dogs, and work from dawn till dusk. You should be good for a couple of years.”

She couldn’t even cry. She was numb.

An animal. A farm implement.
 

theseus

Governor
The Female Servitude Act.

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The first thing the Male Supremacist Party did after its landslide victory at the polls was to pass the Female Servitude Act. In terms of this act, any female could be pressed into servitude, for a period determined by the Controller of Females, for a period determined by the controller. There were no exceptions, and no appeal!

Upon delivery of a Servitude Notice the head of the household was to present the nominated female, naked and in a servile collar, on the pavement for collection by a Collection Squad at dawn on the following day.

Veronica was horrified when her notice arrived. There was nothing she or her husband could do. She had said goodbye to their two toddlers, made love to her husband for the last time, and submitted meekly to the collar.

Her husband was kind, he allowed her to wait inside the house until the collection truck was in the neighbourhood. At least she would be spared some of the humiliation of being out in the street, exposed to the passers-by.

It was the last act of kindness she would experience.
 

theseus

Governor
Uniform

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Evelyn was ecstatic when she heard she had got the job as a waitress at the pool bar at the Paradise Resort for the summer. Her housemate Katy had worked there the previous year, and told her that, apart from the salary, and no living expenses, the tips were very generous.

“It’s a whole lot of fun, if you’re not a prude. You’ll be a hit! Of course, you sort go with the drinks, like the bar snacks, but it certainly is worth it.”

Evelyn had gone to pick up her air tickets at the Paradise agency office. The girl there had been very friendly. “You’ll love working there. You’re perfect for the job.” She gave her two envelopes. “Here are your air tickets and boarding passes. And this,” handing her a second, slightly thicker envelope, “is your uniform.”

Evelyn had rushed off to her class, idly wondering why she had been given money to buy her uniform. “Oh, well,” she thought, “instructions must be in the envelope.” She forgot all about it during her lectures.

At home that afternoon, Katy asked, with a mischievous smile on her face, “Did they give you your uniform?”

“No, just an envelope. I guess I have to buy it.” She fished the envelope out of her handbag. Katy looked very amused. “You can model it for us,” she giggled.

The envelope contained a bundle of string. “Get your clothes off and put it on!” Katy was in hysterics. Her other two housemates were grinning broadly.

It took a while to work it out, but finally Evelyn was dressed for her new job. “That’s it? That’s all I wear? All summer?”

Katy nodded. “I told you it would be a lot of fun!”

Evelyn’s look of horror slowly turned into a smile. “Well,” she said, “I guess I won’t be having a problem with overweight luggage on the flight!”
 

Paul1969

Condemned
The Ramp

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Like many other young girls, Lucy had often dreamed about being a model. Dreamed of being one of those incredibly beautiful women who stalked down the ramps at the fashion shows showing off beautiful, expensive and often daring fashions.

Part of that dream had come true! She was walking on the ramp, showing herself to the watching buyers. What was missing were the clothes.

Unlike most of the other women on show, Lucy had not made the conscious decision to sell herself into slavery. They had contracts that outlined the conditions of their voluntary slavery. The limits to their use and the way that their share of the purchase price of their bodies would be invested to await the freedom that awaited them at the end of their periods of servitude. They wanted to be here!

Lucy was different! Her shaven head, the handcuffs that bound her hands behind her back and the brand burned deep into her buttock identified her as a convict! A criminal sentenced to what was termed “Penal Servitude”. The words of the judge echoed in her mind as she walked along the ramp, her body on view to all. “Drug smuggling is a very serious offence. I accept that you did not at first know what was in the package, but it must have occurred to you that the amount you were offered had to indicate that it was illegal. I have taken this into consideration in deciding on your sentence. You will serve twenty five years of penal servitude! There will be no limits to your use. The only limit will be that your owner, or owners, must not do anything that will end your life. At the end of twenty five years you may be paroled, to work for the rest of your natural life at prescribed employment.”

She had been taken away, her head shaved and the brand burned into her buttock. Now she was on show, soon to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. What would become of her? What would her life be?

She paced the length of the ramp. Like the beautiful woman of her dreams. Naked, exposed! There was no beautiful gown. Just her beautiful body.

Twenty five years, as a slave!
Great story. Love to be one of the bidders.
 

Paul1969

Condemned
View attachment 692799
Heather had always wanted real breasts. In her teens she had watched, with increasing jealousy, as her friends’ chests expanded, while hers remained stubbornly flat. She had envied Sharon, who at fifteen had a pair of D-cups that made every boy at school drool.

For a gymnast, and a good one, a flat chest had advantages, but Heather would gladly have sacrificed those advantages for a C-cup, even a B.

Then, in her second year at university, on a gymnastics scholarship, she received the dreaded buff parcel. A week later her roommate had put her out with the garbage, naked, her hands cuffed behind her back.

The Female Servitude Act had claimed another victim!

She had been sold at auction, to a man in his fifties. A handsome, well built, well dressed man. She was led away with is other two purchases, two pretty, girlish young men sentenced to slavery for drug dealing. She soon discovered that she had been bought for her slim hips, her shapely, firm buttocks, her flat chest. For her boyish looks. Her owner had no interest in women. He bought her as a boy!

For two years she had been used as the other boys were. She had sucked, she had presented her anus for use. Not once, in two years, had her tight, juicy little snatch been used. She had been caught playing with herself once. That had earned her a whipping, and eight agonising hours on the wooden pony. She had been warned that next time her clit would be amputated and her pussy permanently sealed.

She was her master’s favourite, with many privileges. She hated it, hated every time she lay on her belly, ready for use.

Oh! If only she had grown breasts!
She is athletic and pretty. She would appeal to many buyers, men and women.
 

Paul1969

Condemned
Dream come true
View attachment 773275This was the reality of life on The Farm. This is what she had signed up for, what she had paid for.
Laura needed a break from her career. A three month sabbatical seemed to be the answer. A complete change from a high profile career.

She had signed up for The Farm, walked naked along the path of pain, been stripped, barcoded, micro-chipped. She had endured the showing room, stood on the podium as people bid to own her body. Now she was the property of this man. His to do with as he pleased. Her sole purpose in life was now to please him.

This was what she needed!
However, the man fell deeply in debt. Months later, the both would be auctioned off as a pair to newlyweds. Working during the day, the four of them sharing a bed at night
 

theseus

Governor
Service.

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One of the most difficult lessons a young slave has to learn is that she exists to serve her Master or Mistress.

She has to learn that her own desires, likes or dislikes are unimportant. She has to learn that her own pleasure is of no interest to the superior being who owns her, body and soul. She has to realise that obedience is everything!

It often takes a long time for a young slave to learn these simple things. Many painful sessions with the whip, hours of agony perched on the sharp ridge of the wooden pony, punishment after punishment before she accepts her true purpose in life.

Mary fought hard against her fate, against the inevitable subjugation of the slave. She fought her collar, she fought the discipline and the strict rules of the training school. She screamed and writhed under the whip and the cane, begged desperately for mercy as the sharp edge of the horse bit agonisingly into the soft, tender folds of her slave cunt. Slowly, despite her rebellious nature, she learned her duty.

Now Mary waits for her Master’s gift. Waits patiently to receive the hot, creamy jets of his seed. It has taken a long time, and much pain, for her to achieve acceptance. At last, Mary has accepted that, for the rest of her life, she is a slave.
 

Paul1969

Condemned
Lynda

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For months her husband had been encouraging her to work out, to hone her body to perfection. She had enjoyed the challenge, proud of her muscular figure.

When the bathroom door opened she thought it was her husband. Instead two men entered. One offered her a document that said that she had been sold as a slave.

The second produced a set of chains.
Lynda soon found herself in the countryside. At a very remote, gated country house, walled, with a courtyard filled with very expensive cars. Ushered in to the ornate, beautifully decorated old house she was brought to a small medical clinic like room. She went thru a complete physical. She was perfectly healthy. She was then brought to a bathroom with a giant tub and three veiled women who commenced
Washing her hair, doing her nails, and cleaning every orifice on her. Her pussy was shaved bare.
Her athletic body was rubbed with light olive oil,
that had pungent, beautiful herbs infused in it. The large men entered the room, put on a simple silver collar, her hands chained behind her back and a black hood placed over her head.
Taken out of the room and guided down a stairwell, she began to hear other sounds. People
talking and laughing, glasses clinking. She was forced to take a large step up. She could feel what felt like saw dust on the bottom of her feet. A business like voice in English, Arabic, and French
asked the room for silence. Her hood was removed.
 

theseus

Governor
Is that all?

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Judith was ecstatic when her husband announced that he had booked them a three week holiday at the Paradise resort for their twentieth wedding anniversary. She knew the place was very expensive, and very exclusive. All her friends would be envious of her good fortune, and the devotion of her husband.

“I’ve bought you a new bathing suit to wear at the resort. In fact, it will be pretty much all you will wear there. The resort is very casual, and the climate is such that one doesn’t have to wear very much at all.”

“Let me see it! Please?”

He smiled at her. “You are so impatient! You will have to wait until we get there before you can see it. I know you will like it, and I’m sure you will get many admiring looks. It is a very liberal place, is Paradise.”

Paradise was everything she had imagined. Luxurious, sophisticated, sybaritic. Dinner was superb, the restaurant full of elegant, beautifully dressed people. Some of the women very daringly dressed, certainly, and the waitresses were scantily clad at best, but that was what she had expected.

The next morning, she wanted to head for the pool. “I’m dying to show off my new bathing suit.”

Smiling, her husband handed her a bundle of string.

She looked at it, puzzled. “Is that it? Is that all?”

“Put it on!”

She did, still considering it to be a joke. The string between her labia did interesting things to her clit as she moved.

“Okay, joke over. Where is the real swimsuit?”

“That’s it! Paradise is a place where you can fulfil all your dreams and fantasies. You will be very popular wearing that.” He smiled, “I know what it says to me.”

“What does it say?” Her eyes sparkling.

“It says, ‘I am a mature, sexy woman. I am ready for adventure. Please fuck me.’ Am I right?”

She smiled, a naughty smile. “Are you happy with that message?” Her voice was soft, tremulous.

“It is what you want, isn’t it?” His voice was husky. “If it is what you want, I want you to enjoy it, with my blessing.”

“Yessss! Thank you. I love you! I’m going to enjoy wearing this. I think I might wear little else! Happy anniversary!”
 

theseus

Governor
Freedom!


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The first Mother’s Day since the last of the kids left home.

Freedom at last!

No more having to keep things secret. No more having to smother her cries of pain or pleasure. No more worrying about somebody walking in at the wrong moment. At last, she can wear her collar all the time. Her cuffs can stay on for as long as her husband wishes. Clothing in the house and the garden is no longer an option. She can flaunt her pierced nipples, her buttplug, the marks of the whip across her back.

Looking at her Mother’s Day presents it is clear that they had not managed to keep everything a secret from her children. The copy of ‘50 Shades of Grey’ from her youngest daughter was enough of a giveaway. However, the heavy suede flogger from her son, together with a note suggesting that he would be happy to instruct her husband in its use, was the gift that really got her going.

What lovely children they had! She must have them over for dinner this evening.

Dinner, and perhaps a bit of a family play session.
 

theseus

Governor
The Contest.

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She had to win!

She just could not stand another whipping! Six hours on the sharp ridge of the Horse, and then two days in the kennels. She had to win!

The other woman was already on the third dildo. There were ten of them, each thicker and longer than the previous one! Each one had to go hilt deep in pussy and ass!

This was the first one. Just the first! She had struggled to get it into her pussy, her slave cunt, finally succeeding with much pain. Now she was stuck! It just would not go all the way into her ass!

“Please? Stretch! Oh god, it hurts!”

The other woman, sobbing, was on the fourth one! Struggling! Screaming in pain.

She had to win! Four dozen lashes! Forty eight burning, searing, bruising lashes. Then the Horse, bruising her already oversensitive cunt, feeling like she was being cut in half!

“Go in!” Screamed as she forced herself down, as the thick plug finally entered her ass. Rising up! More pain!

One done. Nine to go. She had to win!
 

theseus

Governor
The Contest.


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She had to win!

She just could not stand another whipping! Six hours on the sharp ridge of the Horse, and then two days in the kennels. She had to win!

The other woman was already on the third dildo. There were ten of them, each thicker and longer than the previous one! Each one had to go hilt deep in pussy and ass!

This was the first one. Just the first! She had struggled to get it into her pussy, her slave cunt, finally succeeding with much pain. Now she was stuck! It just would not go all the way into her ass!

“Please? Stretch! Oh god, it hurts!”

The other woman, sobbing, was on the fourth one! Struggling! Screaming in pain.

She had to win! Four dozen lashes! Forty eight burning, searing, bruising lashes. Then the Horse, bruising her already oversensitive cunt, feeling like she was being cut in half!

“Go in!” Screamed as she forced herself down, as the thick plug finally entered her ass. Rising up! More pain!

One done. Nine to go. She had to win!
 

theseus

Governor
White Slaves.

white slave roundup 006.jpg

This was impossible!

The advertisement had told of fun in the sun, an exotic tropical location off the beaten track. It was cheap. There was the added subtext of well hung local men. “Nothing wrong with a bit of sexual adventure,” the girls thought.

This was not what they had expected. Not at all!

No sooner had they arrived at the resort than they were seized, stripped, and steel collars fitted around their necks. They screamed and fought, to no avail. The coffle of naked young European girls was led out into the sunshine, through the town, having to endure the taunts and laughter of the local people.

“Now you know how our ancestors felt!” One young man shouted, brandishing his cock at them. “I will come and fuck you tonight!”

Pleading was of no use.

“You have disappeared. There is no record of your arrival, no record of the ‘resort’. You no longer exist. Once we have enough of you, you will be auctioned. There are many brothels that want white girls. In the meantime, our young men will visit you while you are chained in the square. Who knows, if you please them they might even feed you.”

This was impossible, she thought, this was the 21st Century. Slavery was long gone!

The hot sun on her naked skin, the hard, cold steel of the collar around her neck sent a different message.

This was happening. They were slaves. Slaves in the 21st Century!
 
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