"Yes, John, I under stand. It's not me, it you. Yeah, I'll keep in touch."
Well, damn. I thought that one would last. I seem to have the worst luck with
boyfriends. That's three this year alone. It's not like I don't put out or any
any thing, I do. In fact John broke up with me not more than 3 hours after he
fucked me in the ass. I mean, yeah, after the White Slave thing was passed, I,
like most other girls my age, stopped letting my boyfriends fuck me in the pussy
more than twice a month, but I give head on the first date, and every one after
that, and my ass is almost that available.
Well, enough about that. Time to go hit the "Chunky Monkey". Good comfort food.
Let's see what's on the TV. There is crap on TV. Why am I not surprised. Ring
"Hello?" Great. It's the boss. Wants me to come in early.
"Yeah, I can come in early tomorrow. No problem. Bye, see you in the morning"
I hang up the phone and start punching through the TV channels, thinking "Great,
another long day on the help desk, just what I need right now." As I'm mussing,
I find my self on "The Torture Channel". Some girl, a slave I guess is being
flogged. I find my self unable to change the channel. After a few minutes, the
man flogging the girl stops and bends her over and fucks her. Fucks her hard and
fast. I find my self getting hot, and with out thinking I start fingering
myself. He soon finishes and walks away, and the end credits start to roll. It
seems this is some sort of 'reality' show called "Spellbook Slaves". I turn off
the TV and decide to call it a night.
The next morning I awaken 3 hours early, so I can get down to the office for the
early shift my boss wants me to work. This is not really all that fun. I think
about the girl I saw on the TV last night and wonder what she is doing now. When
I get to the office, I find out that the reason I needed to be in early is
because a remote site is going to call in with a question. Great. I could have
done this from home. Now I have 2 hours to kill before my real job starts. I
disable the firewall on my machine so I can surf the net with out "The Nanny"
watching me (hey, knowing how to do that is part of my job. Not my fault they
don't change the passwords). I finally find my self on the web site for "The
Torture Channel". There is a link for that show I saw last night. I follow it. I
can't believe this, I'm watching a web cam of a bunch of slaves, just sitting
around. In what seems like no time, I hear the normal office hours people coming
in. I realize I've spent over an hour watching slaves. I re-enable the fire wall
and start taking calls.
That night, I get home and turn on the TV. It's still on TCC. I see an ad, just
as I start to change the channel for the show I saw last night. It will be on in
two hours, at 8:00.
8:00 rolls around and I don't even think about it, I change the channel to TCC.
I watch the show, almost in spite of my self.
The next couple of days were much like this. Off to work, then back home where I
watch this slaver's show. I start to think of the cast as being friends how
haven't meet me yet.
Mr. West, the white slaver, seems to be a weird mix of things. You never know
what he's going to do.
Ingrid, the older lady. She seems like a she's a mix of office manager and mom.
Plus she's sexy as all get out, but a little sad some how.
Sonya. Well, she's just wild. Scary, but in a good way, sort of.
Tracie. She's happy and bubbly. She was the girl I first saw getting flogged and
fucked.
Belinda. She's just resigned. Does what she has to, but you can tell she's not
really happy about it. Except when Tracie goes down on her. She likes that.
Jen. Poor girl Being tortured so she will taste good as meat.
There are some others but they seem to come and go. Bought and sold it seems.
It seems my whole life revolves around this damn show. I find out that it's
being filmed here in Eastlake. I look up the address of Spellbook Slaves.
Northside. I change my route to work, so I drive by the house that acts as their
home and office. When I found out what day Jen was going to be done, I bought a
ticket to the barbecue. I felt I had to be there for her. I was so glad they
didn't do her, but did those other girls instead. I even tried a small bit of
them, when they were served. Taste like pork. Must be why they sometime call it
"Long Pig".
A week after that, all the girls that worked the help desk were called in to a
meeting. The short version is that the company is cutting cost. All the help
desk postions were going to be filled with "Corprate Assets". They explained
that, in effect, to keep our jobs we would have to volunteer to be enslaved. We
would still get paid, at a lesser rate, (but untaxed) and that the company would
provide food, housing and medical care. This was on a Friday. We had until the
next Monday to make up our minds.
I went home more or less in a state of shock. What the hell? I turned on the TV,
of course going to see "my" show. That's when it hit me, I'm going to be a slave
next week. But if I'm going to be a slave I don't want to be some sort of drone
for the oil industry, sharing a room with 3 other drones, I wanted to be a sex
slave. I wanted to be a slave with my friends that didn't know me. I spent that
weekend closing down my bank accounts, my credit cards, ending my lease, all
that, basically closing down my life. Monday I went into work, finished cleaning
out my desk, then told the HR staff that I would not be taking their offer and
left. After selling my car and all my belongings I had about $40,000. I donated
it to the Eastlake Red Cross, less $50.00. From the Red Cross office, I called a
cab and gave them the address of Spellbook Slaves. I gave the cabbie the fifty,
got out and walked up to the door. I rang the bell and waited. Mr. West opened
the door and asked if he could help me.
"Mr West? My name is Cindy and I want to be a slave"
Mr West stood in the door for a couple of seconds, then blinked. "Of course you
do. Come in and let's see what we can do about that."
He gestured a "come in" motion and stepped aside. I entered what you would call
his office's public area. He closed the door behind me, then lead me back into
the private parts of the business. "Do you have a notarized statement of intent
to be enslaved?" he asked. I was so glad I had been watching his show. "Yes,
here it is." I said as I pulled it from my purse. He looked it over and then
typed some data off of it into his computer. After a few seconds, he made sort
of a grunt and said "Well, it seems you are of age and not currently a slave.
All we need to do is see if you are 'with child' or on drugs right now.". With
that, he pulled out a small cup and handed it to me. "Fill to the red line. The
rest room is over there." I took the cup and went into the rest room and filled
as directed. I returned with it. Mr. West had a some sort of test out and an
eyedropper. He took a sample out of the cup, sealed the cup then dropped 4 drops
on to the tiny cups on the test card. After a few seconds a set of lines showed
up on the card. "OK, your not pregnant and don't seem to be doing any drugs. We
are good to go here. This is your last chance. Are you sure you want to be a
slave?"
I stood there for a few seconds, then looked him in the eye and said, "Yes, that
is what I want." He shrugged, entered a few more things in the computer, waited
a second for a form to print off. He took the form, signed it, stamped it with
some sort of corporate stamp, then stapled it with my intent and the result page
from the wiz test and put them in a folder "OK, you are a slave now. This is
your last thing you get to do on your own free will for a while." He handed me a
piece of paper which said "First Refusal Request Form" across the top. "Please
write down up to three people that you want me to contact as your first possible
buyers. There is no guarantee that they will be your first owners, however I
will not sell you to any one other than those listed for 24 hours". I handed him
the form back saying "I don't have any one." He looked at me, then said, "Well,
check the 'none' box and sign it then".
I did as he asked then sort of stood there, not knowing what to do next. He
looked at me, then said, "OK, strip. Unsold slaves don't wear clothing, at least
not while in the shop. And put this on.", handing me a collar with a some sort
of electronic device on it. I put the collar on, noticing that it 'locked' on,
then started to disrobe. While I was taking my jeans off I said "How come Ingrid
gets to wear a tunic then?"
ZAPPPPP. I found my self setting on the floor, and my whole head and neck felt
like it was on fire.
"Three things: One, slaves don't question orders, Two, Ingrid isn't an unsold
slave, Three, slaves don't question orders. Do I make my self clear here?"
"Yes... Master". I said.
"Mr West will do. Unless I personally buy you or make you a corporate asset
Master isn't the correct term of address. That's just my personal foible,
legally, of course, you are correct."
As I finished stripping, an alarm clock noise went off. Mr West did something
with his PDA and the noise stopped. "Time for the daily freak show. Might as
well come along and see what Sonya has in mind today."
With that, Mr. West hooked a dog leash to my collar and took me toward the rear
of the house/office. Because I had watched the show so much, I knew where he was
leading me to. We arrive at the torture room, where Sonya had Jen and Angelina
strung up, hanging by one wrist each, with their backs to each other. She had
tied their "free" arm to each other, and had extended it out, with a rope going
to the "peg board" on the western wall. The effect was to make them look like
they were cheerleaders making an "L".
"I'm going to give them 25 lashes with the cat-o-nine today, then leave them up
for a while. Is that OK?" Sonya asked.
"Sound good to me. Oh, to make it exciting, at least for me, Cindy here is going
to give me head. If I come in her mouth before you finish, I'm going to nail
your nipples to that board on the work bench. If you finish first, her tits get
nailed. Ingrid, keep count. Wait. I got an idea... Which ever one of you that
gets nailed gets to choose one of the two pain pigs, to be nailed next to you.
The other one stays hanging. Oh, Ingrid, only lashes that hit the tits count."
Thank God I'm good at giving head. Mr. West sat down in the easy chair on the
edge of the room and opened his fly. I knelt down in front of him. "You may
start" he quietly said.
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
Oh my God, she's done 4 lashes and I haven't even started. I lean forward and
take his hard cock into my mouth.
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
I lick the head for a second then do my signature "all in one gulp" deep throat
move. I hold it for a few seconds
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
then rise up, licking the head of my owner's cock, then
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
go back down
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
I hold it for a second, swallowing to massage it with my throat then come back
up, then
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
back down then
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
Back up.
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
Back down
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
Back up
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
Suddenly he grabs my head as I start to go back down. Once I'm all the way down,
he holds me.
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
It's starting to get hard to breath. I swallow and try and breath through my
nose. He must have figured that out, because with the other hand he pinches my
nose shut. It's getting really hard to get a breath... I'm starting to panic
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
SMACK
He lets go, and I pull my head up, just as he starts to cum. I swallow and pray
that I did it in time.
SMACK
SMACK
Ingrid says in a loud voice "25 on each set of breasts"
Mr West says "Sonya, sorry you lost. Which pain slave do you want to be your
partner?"
Sonya breaths heavy for a second then spits out "Why don't you just nail me and
the new slut and leave the pigs hanging?"
Mr West looks down at me, then over at Sonya, "What ever. Works for me. Ingrid,
go get the hammer and 4 finishing nails out of the tool drawer in the kitchen".
Ingrid leaves. While she is gone, Sonya walks over to the work bench and kneels
down, so her tits are laying over the wooden plank on the bench. Mr. West leads
me over there as well, then tell Sonya "Stand up. Need to do something first."
He takes a bottle off the bench and spills a little out of it in 4 spots on the
board, then takes a Popsicle stick and spreads it around. He then picks up a
spray bottle of something, then lifts up Sonya' tits and sprays the under side
of them. He does the same to mine. "Super glue and accelerator. Don't want you
moving while I nail you. OK, you first Sonya. Put your tits on the board." She
hesitates for a second, then looks at him, as he reaches for his remote control
hanging on his belt. Sonya screws up her face, then kneels down, put her tits on
the glue. She give a couple of quick breaths, like something hurt her. "OK
Cindy, your turn". I turn and kneel down, so my tits are on the plank. Suddenly
I feel a fire under my tits, where the super glue is reacting to the accelerator
on the underside of my breasts. I let out a "AHHHHHH". Mr. West sort of snickers
and says "Seems Cindy isn't the quite type.".
Ingrid comes into the room at this point. He takes the hammer and nails from
her, then walks to Sonya's side. He put three nails down on the bench, then puts
on in her left nipple. He taps it a few times with the hammer, then drives it
home with a pair of hard hits. Sonya sort of jerks a bit, which makes the board
pull from my tits, which hurts. He picks up another nail and repeats the 2 taps,
2 hits thing on her right nipple. It's my turn now.
He walks over to my side and hold the nail over my nipple. Instead of doing the
tap and whack thing like he did to Sonya, he just hits it hard once. The pain is
blinding, but rapidly subsides. He picks up the last nail and does the same
"Drive it home" thing with it. Again, a brief burst of blinding pain.
"Well girls, I've got to run. Ingrid, stay in here and make sure no one really
hurts them self until I get back."
