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Vignettes from the slave pits

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Paul1969

Spectator
Two for the price of one.

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The latest successful raid by Murat Rais and his fleet had resulted in a glut in the bed toy market. Prices had plummeted as dealers tried to cut their losses.

Old Said was a canny old man. He felt he deserved some young flesh to revive his fading powers, and he knew that his wife could not resist a bargain. Candy and Sue were among the leftovers at the end of the day. Abbas really did not feel like taking the last dregs of his stock back to the pens, and then spending money on feeding them. He chained the last dozen girls together in pairs and put up his sign.

TWO FOR THE PRICE OF ONE!

Said saw the gap, and played on his wife’s bargain hunting habits. Now he is a happy old man. Perhaps the two former cruise ship stewardesses are a bit scrawny, and certainly flat chested, but they are young and tight. Just what an old man needs to perk him up!


Thank you to Julie and Melissa for the artwork. You can see more of their work at https://fantasyunlimited.bdsmlr.com

If you enjoyed this vignette, there are many more at https://vignettesfromtheslavemarket.bdsmlr.com
Said’s wife had odd feelings of her own awakening. Visiting the slave market on a sunny afternoon, viewing the nubile, young white slave girls Nude had awakened forbidden feelings in her. Her husband had kind stopped visiting their bed. She knew he had dalliances on the side. Know, feigning
Interest on a bargain for the two girls, she agreed to
purchase them to please her husband. Other women had spoken the truth to her. Exploring BOTH the young slaves bodies at the same time was exhilarating!! The fingers and soft, moist mouths of the slaves brought her to otgasm effortlessly. Her husband had never orally pleased her in 30 years of marriage. She enjoyed the sex!!
 

theseus

Governor
Tasty Morsel.

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“Don’t these unbelievers ever feed their women?” Abdullah growled as his wife removed the last of the girl’s clothes. “Look at her! I’ve seen boys with bigger tits!”

His wife smiled at him. “You men! All you want is a cow with udders to match. Think of the other pleasures she has to offer. Aisha tells me that she has a very, very skilled tongue. After all, it is not just about you. Happy wives make for happy husbands.”

Abdullah considered that sentiment. Of course, he was the master of the household. But… four unhappy wives could make a man’s life a misery.

His brother Salim, chipped in. “You have a very one-sided view, my brother. From where I stand, well, remember when our sainted father came back from Persia? The little rhyme he recited, ad nauseum? ‘On the other side of the river is a boy with a bottom like a peach. Alas, I cannot swim.’ From where I stand, I can see such a bottom. This one offers the pleasures of a boy and a girl. Shall we each take a half share?”

Abdullah knew when he was beaten. Besides, there was a lot of pleasure to be had between those slim thighs, from both sides. And she was cheap. He always enjoyed a bargain.

“Ali!” He called to the trader. “I’ll take her!”

Thank you to Julie and Melissa for the artwork. You can see more of their work at https://fantasyunlimited.bdsmlr.com

If you enjoyed this vignette, there are many more at https://vignettesfromtheslavemarket.bdsmlr.com
 

theseus

Governor
Obedience.
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Her Master had put them on her when he left for work. “You will remain like this all day. No clothes, other than stockings and heels. And those clamps stay where they are, no matter what!”

She loved him! She would do anything for him! But her nipples hurt! They burned! They itched! It had only been an hour. He would not be home for at least eight more hours! She couldn’t bear it!

“I could take them off. He would never know. I could put them back later. Take them off for just an hour.” She argued silently with herself.

She lifted her hands to her tortured nipples. Gritted her teeth against the pain to come.

No!

She was a slave, and slaves obey!

She shook her breasts, welcoming the different pain. It was difficult, being his slave. She knew that she would confess to him. That she would tell him what she had almost done. She knew that he would punish her!

She felt the heat rise in her loins. Anticipation! Fear! Excitement!

His punishments were do inventive. So delicious! So painful!

Her nipples itched and burned.

She couldn’t wait for him to come home!

If you enjoyed this vignette, there are many more at https://vignettesfromtheslavemarket.bdsmlr.com
 

theseus

Governor
Open your mouth!

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Freshly taken slaves are often reluctant to accept their new status. They have yet to learn that they are no longer people with rights and freedom of choice. They have yet to learn that they are property, flesh!

This was Claudia’s first day of slavery. Her first training session. There was so much to learn, and her bottom was already on fire, a dozen with the strap to teach her manners. Now, her trainer was expecting her to…

“Open your mouth!” His voice was soft, but she knew he meant it. She knew she had to, but, somehow, her jaw refused to obey her. Her teeth were clenched tight. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t do it! She couldn’t open her mouth and take this stranger’s thing, his cock, into her mouth. It was disgusting!

It was bad enough that she was naked, naked in the presence of this stranger. Really naked, after all her body hair had been removed. She couldn’t do this, as well.

“Open your mouth!” There was a hard edge to his voice now, his cock touching her lips. “Open your mouth!” The girl who had shaved her, Amy, had told her what happened to reluctant flesh. Flesh! She wasn’t flesh! She was a girl, a woman, a person.

Except. That was yesterday. Today, and forever more, she was property, flesh!

What had Amy said? “Recalcitrant girls are whipped, and if that doesn’t work there is one thing that always does.” Claudia had already tasted the whip, the strap. She had screamed and howled. Twisted and begged.

“Open your mouth!” The head of the cock pushing against her clenched teeth.

She remembered Amy’s words. “They strapped me to a frame, on all fours. My legs spread. I couldn’t move. Then they brought in the dog!”

His hand grabbed her hair! “Open your mouth!”

With a racking sob, she opened her mouth, as wide as she could! Accepted the invasion!

She was flesh!

If you enjoyed this vignette, there are many more at https://vignettesfromtheslavemarket.bdsmlr.com
 

theseus

Governor
Diplomatic Rebuke.

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Ali Pasha hated the English! He hated their self-righteous arrogance, their assumption of superiority, their hypocrisy. Above all he hated the fact that their Navy considered it had the right to interfere with shipping belonging to other countries.

He had summoned Lord Harris, Her Majesty’s Ambassador and Minister Plenipotentiary to the Sublime Porte, to explain himself after the most recent outrage. A Royal Navy vessel had stopped and searched a Zanzibari ship carrying gifts for the Sultan. The most important gifts had been seized in the name of combatting slavery. Three exquisite pairs of identical twins, specially bred by the Sultan of Zanzibar by pairing the most perfect black African studs with creamy blonde Scandinavian slaves. To aggravate matters there had been a fourth pair of twins, albeit not identical, intended for Ali Pasha himself.

Ali Pasha did not intend this to be a friendly, diplomatic chat. As a not so subtle insult to the diplomat he ordered that every alcove in the long corridor leading to the audience chamber should be filled by a naked female slave captured in the British Isles.

Lord Harris strode down the corridor studiously ignoring the display of helpless women, many of them displaying the marks of the lash. His face was impassive, despite the soft entreaties of the exposed slaves. Until he reached the last alcove!

His pace faltered! His eyes went wide, his mouth opened, the cry stifled only just in time! Kneeling as all the others had been, eyes down, thighs splayed wide, sex gaping, was a red-headed slave. Not just any slave. Not some Irish peasant, or Cornish fishwife. Her name was Heidi! His youngest sister! His baby sister who had disappeared without trace while walking on the cliffs on their Cornish Estate two years ago.

It took all his willpower not to go to her, to cover her nakedness with his cloak, to draw his sword and fight his way out of the palace with her. He set his features in a mask of stone and entered the audience chamber.

Ali Pasha smiled a welcome. He could see the eyes flaming with rage in the impassive face. He had won! Won before the negotiation even started.

Revenge is sweet!

Thank you to Julie and Melissa for creating the artwork for me. You can see more of their work at https://fantasyunlimited.bdsmlr.com

If you enjoyed this vignette, there are many more at https://vignettesfromtheslavemarket.bdsmlr.com
 
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KageKamen

Governor
Execution.


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They had been convicted of murdering their employer. Certainly, they were in his bed when he died, but he had fucked himself to death! His heart unable to withstand his strenuous activities with the two young maids. The Judges had taken great pleasure in, frequently, examining the ‘murder weapons’ before sentencing the two girls to a long, slow death.
A tricky case, but we must trust that justice was done.
 

theseus

Governor
The Rower.

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Alison smiled at the young couple in the stern of the boat. Both of them had been staring at her since the start of the five-mile row to Honeymoon Island.

This was the tenth year that Alison had spent her annual holiday rowing between the islands that made up Paradise Atoll. Every year, on the 30th of June, she would walk out of her office at the accounting firm, smile at her PA, and head off for two months of vacation. After ten months as the senior partner in the international firm, she needed the break!

She would go home, get out of her very formal business suit and put on a simple cotton shift. Barefoot, she would walk out to her Ferrari and drive to an isolated airfield. There she would board a flying boat headed for Paradise. Unlike the guests, she would not be sitting in luxurious comfort sipping champagne, as the aircraft headed out over the ocean. She, and the other slaves, would be chained, naked, on the cold, bare aluminium floor of the cargo hold.

The young man’s eyes were focused on her naked body, in particular her bare cunt, as she rowed, each stroke causing it to gape slightly. The girl, god, they were so young, young enough to be her children, licked her lips as she, too stared at the naked woman straining at the oars.

Alison had been back for a week. Twelve hours a day, every day, she was at her oars, taking guests from island to island. This would be her life for two months. Torrential rain, strong winds, burning sun. She was a rower, and row she did.

Mark and Amy had been married for two days. This was their honeymoon, a wedding present from his very wealthy uncle. Mark felt just a little guilty as his cock stiffened at the sight of the older woman, straining at the oars, muscles working as she struggled against the current running strongly through the gap in the reef. He wanted to fuck this old woman. He could, he was entitled to, and any guest could fuck any slave. He glanced at Amy. Her tongue was peeking between her lips, her eyes fixed on the older woman’s sex. She became aware of her husband’s eyes on her. She smiled at him, her hand giving his erection a quick squeeze. “Shall we?” She whispered.

Alison brought the boat into the landing with the skill of long practice. She was pouring sweat, panting after the exertion of the hard row against the current. At least the five-mile row back to the main island was downwind.

Amy spoke softly to the hostess who had met them at the landing. “Of Course, Mrs Pearson, here you can have anything you desire. Shall we have her shower before she comes to your villa?” Amy shook her head. “I want her as she is. Sweaty, ripe, tasty.”

The hostess called to Alison. “427! Back here at the end of your shift. Looks like you have a busy night ahead of you.”

Alison smiled, nodded.

It was good to be back!
 

theseus

Governor
You’re Next.

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Slavery is a great leveller.

The latest victorious campaign against the barbarian Celts had flooded the market with slaves. The auctioneer was working hard to push up the price, aware that his commission was at stake. Ariana had been listening to his patter, his graphic and obscene description of the uses for Tess’s young, virgin body. Tess, a swineherd’s daughter, spoke no Latin. Ariane, as the daughter of a high ranking chieftain, had been taught the language almost from birth. It was a skill she kept secret from her captors.

She wasn’t sure she understood it all. Was he really suggesting that they…surely not? It wasn’t possible for a man to put his cock in there? Was it? Why would he want to?

The attendant who looked after the virgin slaves undid the flimsy dress that was her only garment. “You next,” she said in her barbaric Celtic, “let’s get you nice and naked. You have such a sweet young body.” Ariana’s nipples stiffened in the cool air. The dress slid down her body, exposing her to the lewd gaze of the buyers and onlookers. Not to long ago such exposure would have been unthinkable! She was a noble! Now, she was a slave, just as Tess, the daughter of a swineherd, was. They were no more than items for sale.

She heard the auctioneer’s voice. “Sold! Sold to Severus Perversus, for four sesterces. Another new acquisition for his ‘House of Unusual Pleasures’.

Ariana was led to the front of the stage. “Now gentlemen, look what we have here! Once a princess, now a lovely young slave. Lovely little tits! They will grow, I am sure! Strong thighs, eager to be spread. A lovely tight arse.” He groped her buttocks, spreading them. “Look! Look at this virgin little arse! And she is a virgin! Certified, all three holes! Who will give me ten sesterces for this young virgin?”

There was silence from the crowd. The auctioneer made her walk around, then spread her legs. He pulled her vagina open. “Come on, gentlemen, look at the lovely pink inside this virgin cunny! What am I bid?”

“One!” Cried a mocking voice.

“One? You joke, surely sir? A virgin Celtic princess? Any advance on one?” He was almost pleading. “Look at that cute, pretty face. Those lovely lips. Imagine those lips closed around your shaft, her eyes looking, adoringly, into yours. Any advance on one? Do I hear two?”

“One and a half!”

“Any advance on one and a half? Look at this luscious little thing, imagine her impaled on your manly tool. Come on, gentlemen?”

“Any minute now and you’re going to cry, Aristius.” A voice said. “I’ll give you two. Nota groat more. Perhaps she can do stage shows.” He looked around the crowd. “Have you still got that big hound, Placidus? I’ll give you three for him. Then I’ll put them on stage.”

The auctioneer shrugged his shoulders. “Not my day,” he muttered to himself.

“Sold to Severus!”

Slavery is a great leveller, Ariane though. She was worth half of what Tess sold for. And less than the dog her new owner had bought.

“Why,” she wondered, “Had he bought the dog?”

Thank you to Julie and Melissa for the artwork. You can see more of their work at https://fantasyunlimited.bdsmlr.com

If you enjoyed this vignette, there are many more at

https://vignettesfromtheslavemarket.bdsmlr.com
 

montycrusto

Slave Trader
You’re Next.

View attachment 887243

Slavery is a great leveller.

The latest victorious campaign against the barbarian Celts had flooded the market with slaves. The auctioneer was working hard to push up the price, aware that his commission was at stake. Ariana had been listening to his patter, his graphic and obscene description of the uses for Tess’s young, virgin body. Tess, a swineherd’s daughter, spoke no Latin. Ariane, as the daughter of a high ranking chieftain, had been taught the language almost from birth. It was a skill she kept secret from her captors.

She wasn’t sure she understood it all. Was he really suggesting that they…surely not? It wasn’t possible for a man to put his cock in there? Was it? Why would he want to?

The attendant who looked after the virgin slaves undid the flimsy dress that was her only garment. “You next,” she said in her barbaric Celtic, “let’s get you nice and naked. You have such a sweet young body.” Ariana’s nipples stiffened in the cool air. The dress slid down her body, exposing her to the lewd gaze of the buyers and onlookers. Not to long ago such exposure would have been unthinkable! She was a noble! Now, she was a slave, just as Tess, the daughter of a swineherd, was. They were no more than items for sale.

She heard the auctioneer’s voice. “Sold! Sold to Severus Perversus, for four sesterces. Another new acquisition for his ‘House of Unusual Pleasures’.

Ariana was led to the front of the stage. “Now gentlemen, look what we have here! Once a princess, now a lovely young slave. Lovely little tits! They will grow, I am sure! Strong thighs, eager to be spread. A lovely tight arse.” He groped her buttocks, spreading them. “Look! Look at this virgin little arse! And she is a virgin! Certified, all three holes! Who will give me ten sesterces for this young virgin?”

There was silence from the crowd. The auctioneer made her walk around, then spread her legs. He pulled her vagina open. “Come on, gentlemen, look at the lovely pink inside this virgin cunny! What am I bid?”

“One!” Cried a mocking voice.

“One? You joke, surely sir? A virgin Celtic princess? Any advance on one?” He was almost pleading. “Look at that cute, pretty face. Those lovely lips. Imagine those lips closed around your shaft, her eyes looking, adoringly, into yours. Any advance on one? Do I hear two?”

“One and a half!”

“Any advance on one and a half? Look at this luscious little thing, imagine her impaled on your manly tool. Come on, gentlemen?”

“Any minute now and you’re going to cry, Aristius.” A voice said. “I’ll give you two. Nota groat more. Perhaps she can do stage shows.” He looked around the crowd. “Have you still got that big hound, Placidus? I’ll give you three for him. Then I’ll put them on stage.”

The auctioneer shrugged his shoulders. “Not my day,” he muttered to himself.

“Sold to Severus!”

Slavery is a great leveller, Ariane though. She was worth half of what Tess sold for. And less than the dog her new owner had bought.

“Why,” she wondered, “Had he bought the dog?”

Thank you to Julie and Melissa for the artwork. You can see more of their work at https://fantasyunlimited.bdsmlr.com

If you enjoyed this vignette, there are many more at


https://vignettesfromtheslavemarket.bdsmlr.com
GREAT story Theseus :goodjob:
 

theseus

Governor
Laura in the desert.
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Laura worshipped her Master. She had given herself to him many, many years ago. She had borne his children, children who themselves became slaves. She had done everything he required of her. In return he treated her well. Most of the time.

Her reluctance had angered him! Just for a moment she had hesitated to carry out his wishes. She had done many bizarre things in her life as a slave, but this had shocked even her. He made it very clear that hesitation was not acceptable.

She winced as the thick, cold steel plugs were inserted into her. They were so big, so thick, so filling. The chastity belt that locked them in has rigid, uncomfortable. He cuffed her hands behind her back, then loaded her into the back of the truck.

The drive into the desert was uncomfortable, and interminable. Unable to steady herself with her cuffed hands, she was bounced around. The hot metal burned her exposed skin, the sun blazing down on her. She was thirsty!

Finally, he stopped on the top of a mesa. The hot desert sand burned her bare feet, the sun and wind sucking the moisture from her skin. “It shouldn’t take you more than two days to get home! You will have plenty of time to think about your attitude.” She watched, heartbroken, as he drove away.

Way in the distance, many miles away, she could see the sun glisten on the roof of the house. Twenty? Twenty-five miles away?

The plugs moved inside her, filling and stimulating her. She was thirsty! The sand was hot, sharp stones bruised her bare feet. She stumbled and fell on the steep slope, struggling to get to her feet after the fall. Cuffed hands no help. The sun burned down. She was thirsty!

Her Master was kind, considerate. Her offence was severe. She was a slave, an object. How dare she refuse him? How dare she refuse to serve his guest? She deserved this punishment.

She fell again, sliding down the rocky slope.

She was thirsty!

A thirsty slave who had earned her punishment!



 

theseus

Governor
Desert caravan.

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1631 A.D. The desert is hot, especially for women who, just a few months previously, lived in temperate Cornwall. In those two months their lives had changed, forever!

No longer were they respectable fishermen’s wives and daughters, or in the case of Elizabeth, the young wife of the Squire. That was all in the past. Also in the past was freedom, respectability, poverty and riches. They were all equal now. Equal in their nakedness. Equal in their suffering of the desert heat, the chafing of their collars, their thirst, their hunger. Equal in their slavery!

Nobody had expected a raid by Barbary slavers in Cornwall. King Charles was on the throne. England was a European power. Black men didn’t enslave white women. Did they?

Elizabeth had the misfortune of visiting a sick tenant in the little fishing village when the slavers struck. The men who resisted were cut down, the rest of the village, with the exception of the very old, were herded into the slavers’ ship. Two months later, after a nightmare voyage shut up in the hold of the ship, joined by other unfortunate women, the slaves were sold in the port of Sallee. For the men, there was the grinding labour at the oars of the galleys, or worse, in the stone quarries in the desert. For the women there was an even worse fate. Auctioned like cattle! Naked! Exposed to the eyes, and groping hands, of heathen savages! Destined for the beds of their new masters.

For these six young women their ordeal was far from over. The merchants who bought them intended to sell them further inland, where objects as exotic as white women would fetch an even higher price.

The six slaves plodded on through the burning sand. Hungry, thirsty, footsore. They had no hope, no dignity. They were mere objects! Things! Livestock on their way to market!

How was this possible? In the Year of Our Lord, 1631?

Picture by Kamerijk https://www.deviantart.com/kamerijk

If you enjoyed this vignette, there are more at https://vignettesfromtheslavemarket.bdsmlr.com
 

theseus

Governor
Day One!

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Reality is often very different from the dream.

Three months ago, Claire was sitting in front of the fire, a glass of red wine in her hand, looking through holiday brochures.

“Somewhere different,” she said to herself, “something adventurous, out of the ordinary.” ‘Cruise the Baltic.’ “No! Too stuffy, all fancy dinners and boring company.” ‘Explore Alaska.’ “Perhaps…but then, mosquitoes, cold. No!”

She looked at several more brochures, the started browsing the internet. A nudist resort? “Mmmm,” she thought, “that could be fun. Especially if I found some naked, horny stud. A month of fun in the sun and nights spent fucking. I could handle that!”

Then she saw a pop-up ad. “The Farm. The place where you can make your wildest fantasies reality!”

“Now that looks interesting!” She read more, raised her eyebrows at the options. “Wow!” She poured another glass of wine. This seemed almost too good to be true. The ‘Labour Slave’ option appealed to her. “Labour slaves work in the fields or on building projects. Normal working hours are from dawn until dusk. Discipline is strict and any slacking is discouraged by liberal use of the whip and other punishments. Slaves are kept naked at all times and are available for sexual use by overseers and paying guests.”

“That’s it!” She sent off her application.

It was all very formal. There was an on-line video interview. She had to be naked, which amused her, and was warned that the whole interview would be taped. The options were explained to her, in detail. Smiling, she signed up for the ‘no limits’ option.

Three months later she flew into the small airstrip. She was greeted by a smiling young woman, dressed in a simple, short sundress. She was clearly nude under the dress. Her throat was encircled by a steel collar, as were her wrists and ankles. “Hi, I’m Amy. You’re the only arrival today. No luggage?” Claire shook her head. “The instructions did say not to bring any.”

Amy laughed. “You would be surprised how many people ignore that. They learn pretty quickly. Get in!”

The jeep rattled and bounced over the rough roads. There was no sign of civilization, just a few rangy looking cows. In the middle of this wilderness Amy stopped the jeep. “Out!”

Claire obeyed, puzzled.

“Strip!”

That didn’t take long. She was wearing shorts, a t-shirt and sandals. No underwear, as ordered. In a moment she was naked. Amy tossed the clothing and sandals in the car. “Turn around! Hands behind your back!” Claire shifted her weight from foot to foot. There was a lot of bare, red earth between the thorny scrub. The sand, liberally scattered with stones, was hot. The cold steel of a pair of handcuffs circled her wrists.

“There you are!” Amy was smiling. “Welcome to The Farm! It’s a great place. I grew up here. Now!” She pointed out over the scrub, the heat haze shimmering. The main compound it about five miles that way. There are a couple of places were there might be puddles of water. It rained a few days ago, so you should find something to drink. Get going! It is five hours to sunset, you have plenty of time.”

Stripping off her own flimsy dress, Amy jumped into the jeep and drove off in a cloud of dust.

Claire looked around her. “Well,” she thought, “you did want adventure. I guess this is it.” She started walking along in the direction Amy had pointed out. Far in the distance was a mountain she could use as a landmark. The thorny scrub tore at her legs, stones bruised her bare feet. Flies buzzed around her face, drinking the sweat that poured from her. With her hands cuffed behind her she could do nothing, other than shake her head. Time stood still, all that mattered was putting one foot in front of the other. She hoped she would be able to find water.

“Well, if this is day one, this promises to be a real adventure,” she thought, smiling. The sun burned down, searing her skin. “I wonder when I get fucked?”


This story was written at the suggestion of Sultry Fiefdom, who also supplied the picture.
 

theseus

Governor
A Slave’s Fate.

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She had loved her master!

He had bought her as a teenager, she could barely remember a life when she was not his property. She had served him with her heart and soul, been his slave for more than 30 years.

She had borne him three children, a boy, who he adopted as his heir, and two lovely girls, who remained his slaves.

When he died, suddenly, she hoped that she would be freed, rewarded for a lifetime of service.

His will was simple. He left everything to his adopted son, the boy she had borne and raised.

Her new Master acted swiftly. He decided to ‘freshen’ his inherited collection, putting all of them, apart from his youngest sister, up for sale!

The sale was humiliating. For the first time in more than thirty years she was on show as a property for sale. Her face flamed with anger to hear herself described a “well aged flesh.” She was further insulted when the auctioneer described her as “still tight, for a well fucked old slag.” She was one of the last to be put on the block, one of those not really expected to sell well. Her heart sank at the paucity of the bids. Surely, surely, she was worth more than that?

The hammer fell! “Sold to The Harbour Brothel!”

Her new owner was a fat, greasy character. He lifted her sagging breast. “Not bad for an old hag. Lucky my customers aren’t fussy. Shouldn’t be, for what they pay. All they want is two legs, two tits and a cunt. You’ll do.”

She stood against the wall, waiting her turn. Her nostrils filled with the smell of roasting flesh. Waiting for the kiss of the red-hot iron.

Waiting for the W to be burned into her breast, marking her forever as a whore.
 

theseus

Governor
Stress Relief.


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Another day! Another long, stressful board meeting! Genevieve wanted to strangle somebody! She wanted to shriek, to scream invective at the fools who would not, could not, understand that the business world was changing, and that a failure to change with it would mean bankruptcy.

She had a pounding headache. She desperately needed to get home and have a drink, simply to relieve the stress, but there was still so much to do. Being CEO of a company that was going downhill was turning her into an old, bitchy hag. An old, bitchy hag who was drinking too much, eating badly, aging rapidly!

Her doctor made no attempt to soften the blow. “You are severely, dangerously, stressed. You need to take six months off! Get away from your phone, your laptop. Forget about this company before it kills you!” She and her doctor had been best friends at school, there was no politeness here. “Look at yourself, Gen, look at yourself! You work fourteen hours a day, seven days a week! When did you last take a holiday?”

Genevieve thought for a while. “There was that weekend in Acapulco, what, two years ago?”

“I remember that one.” Shirley said grimly. “It was between two long conferences. You spent the weekend in your room, drank a couple of bottles of Scotch, and called me because you felt shit! Some holiday!” Shirley put an arm around her friend and patient. “Seriously, Gen, this job is going to kill you. It’s a lost cause! Bail out. Now!” Genevieve was silent, numb. Shirley smiled, “I bet you can’t even remember when last you got laid!”

“Come, let’s go for a walk. You need the exercise.” Genevieve followed her friend out into the street. On the walk to the park she realised how unfit she was. “I can hear you panting, when last did you walk further than your car, or from your office to the boardroom?”

The park was quiet, shady, almost deserted. They found a bench among the trees and for a while sat silent, watching a pair of squirrels chasing each other through the trees. “No doubt what’s on their minds,” Shirley grinned. Her voice became serious. “Remember those fantasies we had back at school? When we used to cuddle together in my bed?”

Genevieve smiled, sadly. “We used to fool around, and talk about boys, and invent fantasies about being slaves in a Sultan’s harem, or on a plantation.” She sighed, “those were such fun, innocent days.”

Shirley fished in her handbag, came out with a card. “You need to live that fantasy. Take six months away from this world. Become a slave. Work hard, physically.” She smiled, taking Genevieve’s hand, “get fucked, regularly and often! Especially that!” She handed Genevieve the card. “I spent two months at this place last summer.” She smiled, sweetly. “I am going back there this summer, although I can only take six weeks off this time.” Her smile widened, “There is one of the overseers,” She moved her hands about a foot apart, “not to mention his dog.” Her voice became brisk. “Go home! Right now. Have a stiff drink. Just one! Get onto your laptop and contact them. Take the ‘No Limits’ option. Six months. Then write to your Chairman and resign!”

Two weeks later Genevieve parked her car in the parking area in the forest, got undressed, left her keys and clothes in the car, and nude and barefoot, started the painful walk up the rocky trail to The Farm.

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Two days later Genevieve screamed into her gag as the clamps bit into the tender flesh of her nipples.

“Oh, fuck! That hurts! Fuck!” It all came out as a gurgle around the ballgag. She wanted to take those clamps off, to do something to ease the pain. She struggled against the handcuffs securing her hands behind her back. Helpless to do anything about this new sensation.

The last two days had been full of new sensations. The total exposure of constant nudity. The first burning sting of the whip. The experience of being chained, of being treated as an object. She didn’t have to make any decisions; she didn’t have to think. All she had to do was obey.

She met the overseers. Met? Well perhaps that was not the right word. The chief overseer, a massively built black man named Leroy, had run his hands, hard, strong, calloused hands, over her body. “Six months, no limits. You’re brave, no mistake.” His voice was a deep, melodious drawl. He opened the flies of his jeans. “Open your mouth, slut!” Her eyes crossing as she looked at the length and girth of the black cock in front of her face her thought was, “No way I’ll even get the head of that into my mouth.”

Two gagging, choking minutes later her lips were clamped tight around the base of the cock, the rest of it deep in her throat!

Still gasping, her throat raw, the taste of cum filling her mouth, she staggered to her feet, helped by the hand grasping her hair. “We’ll turn you into a good cocksucker, slut. Maclean!” The man who came jogging along was smaller that the black man, but no less well built.

“This slave has signed up for six months, no limits. She needs a lot of cocksucking practice. She needs a good fucking, and I’ve had a busy day. Cunt and Ass! Make it good!”

Maclean came to attention. “Sah!” He bellowed.

Gripping a nipple between thumb and forefinger, he led her to a rail fence. He bent her over it and quickly, efficiently, cuffed her hands to her ankles. She was bent over, ass in the air. Totally exposed to the eyes of anybody passing by. A coffle of young slave girls, connected by chains attached to their clit rings, passed by. One of them, a petite redhead, giggled. “She’s got Maclean! Oh, are you going to stretch, girl, are you going to stretch!” She gasped as a whip cracked, laying a fiery line across tight buttocks. “Save your breath for the cart, Vixen.”

Between her legs Genevieve saw the legs of the overseer, now naked, approach. “OH, MY GOD!” Her scream tore the air as something that felt like a fence post drove forcefully into her vagina. “Oh, my God!” She was being torn in half, split! This was impossible! In the distance she heard a laughing young voice. “Titan just drove home! Stretch, girl!”

It seemed to go on forever. He was like a machine, pistoning into her, tirelessly! Finally, there was a hot stream in the depths of her body, the sudden feeling of empty abandonment as he left her. She slumped over the rail, gasping with relief, and, amazingly, pleasure. “Cunt fucked, Sah!” The man seemed to be incapable of saying anything in less than a bellow.

She heard him hawk, then a splat of spittle land on her exposed anus. “No!” Her mind screamed. She was an anal virgin. She realised that was about to change. “Is your arse virgin, girl?”

“Yes,” she croaked.

“I’ll be gentle, then.” She screamed as she felt the blunt head touch her virgin anus. The scream changed to something unearthly as the pressure increased and the sphincter surrendered to the inevitable.

She didn’t sleep much that night. Her body was sore, the stretched orifices aching and burning, her bowels cramping from the loads of semen deposited there. Her throat was raw. She felt better than she had for months! The young man who shared the narrow bed and the small, thin blanket with her sobbed softly. He was slim, beautifully built. His balls were swollen, held by the tight steel ring that secured the tiny cage containing his swollen cock. He had cried into the valley between her breasts. “They made me…” he sobbed, “they made me…suck…suck their… Three of them! And then…it hurts! It hurst! They said it would be easier, but…it hurts!”

She cradled him in her arms, rocking him gently, trying to console him. He had come here voluntarily, for a month. He thought he would be fucking slave girls. He had never, for a moment, dreamed that his cock would be locked in a steel cage, and the he would be buggered. As she stroked his back to comfort him, her hands wandered over his buttocks. She smiled as she understood the attraction of those firm globes.

Her own burning passage sympathised with his tears.

Now she was on the way to the work camp. They were building a new road, that would be hard, brutal work, but first she had to walk there.
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With every movement the clamps tugged at her nipples, every movement generating its own little flash of pain. Her hands were cuffed behind her back.

She had acquired a new name. Genevieve was no more, at least not for the next six months. She was now slave Fuckwit! Her collar, made of links with sharp spikes, dug into her throat. Those accursed clamps bit into her nipples, so sensitive, such instruments of pleasure! And pain!

She looked down at her smooth, now permanently smooth, sex. At least, unlike those girls she saw on the first day, it was not pierced. Yet! She wondered what that would feel like? What would it be like to be connected to another person by a chain, connected to her clitoris? To that sensitive little nub, that source of immense pleasure. She shuddered at the thought. But…perhaps…?

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The overseer locked her arms into a yoke attached to a collar. Her arms were now uncomfortably held wide apart, at shoulder level. Soon, her shoulders ached. She couldn’t allow them to relax. If she did, the spikes in the collar dug into her neck.

“Get on with it, Fuckwit! Six miles to the building site. Get going!” The whip laid a fiery streak of pain across her back. The road was covered in sharp stones. Her poor feet! The whip cracked again! Fiery pain! She trotted!
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It seemed like an eternity. They had to be almost there, surely?

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He said. “You look very comfortable. Too comfortable.” He attached two little buckets to the clamps. The extra weight made them tighter, as well as pulling her nipples down. He dropped four pebbles in each bucket. “I guess you kind of lost track of how far we’ve come. So, to help you I’ll drop in a pebble every quarter of a mile.”

She screamed through her gag! Four pebbles! One every quarter of a mile! He must have miscounted. It couldn’t be that they had only come a mile? Surely not!

The whip cracked across her butt! “Come on! I don’t have all day! I’m looking forward to a nice cold beer when we get there.”

She stumbled forward. She had been dribbling ever since they strapped that gag into her mouth. She was parched! She had visions of that beer, condensation forming on the glass. CRAACK! The whip interrupted her thoughts. One painful, bruised cut foot in front of the other.
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CRAACK!

She walked. Every eternity he added a pebble. Every eternity the clamps tightened; her nipples stretched a bit more. Every eternity she was thirstier, her feet hurt more. Every eternity the whip cracked more often.

Fuckwit walked on, in the heat of the desert, every part of her body aching, sore. She now had twenty pebbles in each bucket. Almost there! Then the hard labour would start. And the hard fucking, she hoped!

Genevieve had never felt so alive! This was her dream, her fantasy. This was what she wanted? Fuck the Chairman, fuck the board of directors, fuck the company! This was what she was meant to be! A naked slave.

Her mind turned into scheming mode. Now, how to assigned to be Maclean’s personal fuckslave?

This story was written at the suggestion of Sultry Fiefdom, who also supplied the pictures.
 

theseus

Governor
The Freedom of Maturity.

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Gail was free for the first time in decades. While most of her friends dreaded turning forty, she couldn’t wait! Forty had come and gone, three years previously. Now the great moment had arrived. Their youngest child had started university in another city.

At last, for the first time in twenty years, they were free!

They had had a good first year of marriage, before she became pregnant. They partied, sometimes wildly, sometimes not particularly wisely. They had explored each other’s bodies, likes, dislikes and fantasies. Babies had changed all that.

For the first few years A.C., after children, they had been too tired to really have fun. They had coupled hurriedly between nappy changes and feeds, more eager to sleep than to fuck. Then had come the period of tiny feet coming into the bedroom at the moment critique. “Mommy, I’m scared.” Just as she was about to come. The time their daughter had come catapulting into their bed after a nightmare, freezing everything in mid-flight, leaving her comforting the frightened girl while she still had John’s cock buried deep in her arse.

Almost the last straw was when they decided to introduce the children to nudism. The kids had loved the beach, running around naked with other kids their own age. It was a time of glorious innocence. Until there was a visit from a prune-faced social worker, who sat them down and explained the irreparable mental and emotional harm they were exposing their children to. “Children should not have to know that their parents are sexual. They should retain their innocence until they are grown.” The lecture had ended with a thinly veiled threat to have them charged with child abuse, or worse.

Two things had happened yesterday. Claire, their youngest, had driven off in her new car, heading for university, and John had presented Gail with two air tickets, and a reservation for a nudist resort notorious for allowing free sexual behaviour.

Gail hadn’t worn clothes since. There didn’t seem much point. John was like a teenager, always up and ready. This was the beginning of their new life! A life of adventure, exploration, and, she hoped, perversion.

God! It was good to be mature!
 
Oarslave

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Paradise Island is a large atoll in the tropical ocean. It consists of dozens of islands. A consortium of rich entrepreneurs bought the atoll from a corrupt state. By agreement the atoll was not subject to any laws except those made by the owners. The government of the state turned a blind eye to all activities on the island.

Paradise was marketed as a perfect getaway place for sexual adventure. Most people stayed on Vanilla Island, the largest and most developed of the islands. It was a perfect fun in the sun resort, with sex as the main attraction.

Melanie had had a quarrel with her boyfriend. In a fit of pique she signed up for a month on Slave Island, signed up without reading any of the documents. She found herself chained to an oar on one of the galleys that transported visitors between islands. She remembered being amazed at the scantily clad oarsmen, and women, of the galley that took her and Dave to Vanilla Island.

On this galley she was not scantily clad, she was naked. She was chained to her oar and whenever she showed the slightest hesitation the whip cracked across her helpless body. Food was minimal, water more so. Her main diet was cum from the overseers and the passengers. The only time she was released from her oar was when someone wanted to fuck her. Fortunately this was quite often, because it was the only respite from the oar and the whip.

As they waited for a new group of passengers to board, headed for Gay Island, she looked out over the calm water. Her mouth was still filled with the salty creamy taste of cum. This was only the morning of day 2! How many days in this month? Was it 30, or 31?

The cox’n barked an order. Tired muscles protested as she grasped her oar. She heard the whistle of the whip, flinched instinctively. The crack and the scream were almost simultaneous. Not her back this time. The old woman, the one with short grey hair, she must be nearly 60. The whip cracked again. Gay Island was far away. She pulled at her oar.

Was it 30 days? Or 31?
I wish I was her I see she is not branded
 

theseus

Governor
African Meat Market.

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The world is full of misconceptions.

Many people think that the slave trade is long past, or that only Africans and Asians, refugees from poor, third world countries, are traded by human traffickers. Certainly, that was what these three spoilt, rich European girls thought when the decided to take a working holiday as “Aid Workers’ in Africa. They would be able to show off their designer safari gear, get great pics of them doing good deeds, and get a couple of university credits.

At least, that was the plan!

It didn’t quite work out like that. Their car was stopped in the middle of nowhere by AK-47 wielding shenzis. There were certainly great pics taken, when one of the shenzis discovered how to use Jane’s camera. He got great pics of her wide-open legs as Ali took his turn between them.

Ellen was the blowjob queen. His close-ups of her with both Ali and Abdullah’s cocks in her mouth were amazing. It had taken some persuasion with a hippo hide whip to convince her to co-operate, but those videos were also good. Juma was very happy. He could sell those to a porn site. The girls would be famous.

Now the girls are in an old, abandoned factory. There were about twenty men, all bidding for their bodies. They were allowed no modesty. They were meat! White meat! If they had been going back to university, they could have written a wonderful paper on the psychology of the slave on display, but it was unlikely that they would write anything ever again. The buyers were not interested in their intellect. They were attracted by the tight cunts nestling between long, slim, white thighs. By hot mouths and accommodating throats. By firm buttocks with paradise in the cleft between them. Intelligence was not required.

Their parents and friends mourned when they received the news, more than a year after the girls went missing, that their car had been found in a deep gorge. There were some fragments of bone in the area, well chewed by scavengers.

Cathy would have been proud of the wonderful eulogy delivered at her memorial service. The vicar might have been less fulsome in his praise of her virtue if he could have seen her biting the edge of the filthy mattress as her tenth customer of the day drove his cock deep into her, by now very accommodating, anus. Jane, kneeling behind him was avidly tonguing his anus, encouraged by strokes of a hippo hide kiboko applied forcefully to her cunt. Ellen, in a different brothel, lay, exhausted, cum leaking from every possible orifice, catching her breath before the next onslaught.

The girls had achieved one of their aims. They were certainly giving aid and succour to the poor Africans! Just not quite in the patronising way they had imagined.

Thanks to Julie and Melissa for the pic.
 
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