Your Neighbourhood Slave Keeper

       Megan’s day was uneventful. The morning classes, part of her mandatory management accounting curriculum, were boring and drawn out. She was irked that the professors spoke slowly and deliberately while she breezed through the topic they were talking about in her study book and absorbed its contents in half the time. Being a smart girl can be difficult sometimes. If everybody could just get on with it and hurry up, she would have much more time for things she actually enjoyed. She asked all of her professors if she could simply take the final test and would they let her pass the class if she aced it. The answer was a resounding ‘no’ - every time. These geriatrics were so stuck in their ways that any deviation from the pointless rules was unthinkable. Megan was almost resigned to the fact that she would just have to ride it out, but the time wasting still made her angry.

       The good thing was that this was the day of the family trip to the nearby lake. It was a beautiful place, a well kept secret of sorts. There was a natural pond, fed by a small mountain river, plentiful in sweet water fish, surrounded by forests with small, grassy glades, which looked like God’s gifts to campers. It seemed that her family morphed into something different during these bi-monthly trips. All of a sudden, the parents and their two daughters, aloof workaholics on a daily basis, were able to let loose and spend quality time with each other. Every single one of these trips was invigorating and contributed greatly to a harmonious family life. Megan couldn’t wait to embark on another one of these excursions.

       When she got home, the whole family was already in preparation mode, walking around the house briskly, packing the little necessities and food items that they would need during an overnight stay at the lake.

       Within two hours, everything was ready. The whole family packed into their comfortable Jeep SUV and pulled out of the driveway. Almost instantly, a merry banter ensued and as usual, when one is engaged in a fun, but superficial conversation, neither Megan nor her younger sister Joanna would be able to recall what they talked about just minutes after the conversation ended. This was just a fun family time after all, one of many to come.

       The lake was particularly beautiful that day. It was late summer and days weren’t as steamy hot anymore as they had been for the past couple of months. The sun caressed the skin with just the right level of tingling touch and the air was only slightly humid, smelling of mature floral undergrowth. The family disembarked from the car and began preparations for their camping adventure. Folding chairs were laid out around a fireplace that they have previously made of large rocks laid out in a circle in a middle of a beautiful grassy glade surrounded by trees from three sides and open to the lake from the other. They gathered firewood and their food supplies to remain handy. The man of the family, a soon to be retired chemical engineer named Thomas, cared particularly about a cooler containing a dozen of near-frozen beers. He laid it down near his chair, which as always faced the water most directly. His wife, Pam, still attractive despite her 47-year old odometer, was simply happy to be with her family members – she paid little heed to any personal needs.

       The afternoon sun quickly disappeared behind the trees and soon darkness enveloped the merry figures gathered around the campfire. They told trivial tales from their lives and teased each other on matters of love and romance. The daughters had a running joke about how their parents, immaculate citizens in every way, maintained a secret life as wild, hippie swingers. It wasn’t true – Thomas and Pam really were as uptight as the appearance suggested, but they liked their daughters’ fantasy nonetheless. It made them feel cooler, in with the young crowd. They in turn, half teasingly and half seriously, inquired about the girls’ love life. They tried to be casual about it, talking about their daughters’ crushes and boyfriends as just chapters in a long book, but they were wildly curious how soon one of them would start thinking about some serious commitment. Nothing was resolved on that night as neither Megan nor Joanna were close to getting seriously engaged. They both had boyfriends, but treated these relationships as temporary – stepping stones to the real deal.

       Midnight passed almost without notice, but close to 2am, weariness started growing upon everyone. Yawns were more and more frequent, moments of silence became elongated, and finally the foursome retired to their tents. There was one for the parents and one for the daughters to share. There were parting jokes for the parents to keep their sexual exploits quiet and for the girls to abstain from anything incestual at all. Within minutes, the whole family gang was tucked in. The parents cuddled together after some unrushed, but short sex and the daughters lying next to each other, listening to their iPods to lull them to sleep.

       About an hour later, two masked figures emerged from the woods and approached one of the tents. They opened the front zipper as quietly as they could and entered the cozy abode where Thomas and Pam lay pleasantly entangled. The two men expertly put syringes to the sleeping couples’ arms and injected them just underneath the skin. Neither of the sleeping couple woke up to the disturbance. Soon they were in a much deeper sleep than they had been originally. The masked men moved to the other tent. This time there was no need for particular precaution. They descended onto the sleeping girls and straddled their bodies with practiced movements. Megan and Joanna woke up just as injections were being delivered into their upper arms. Both of the girls screamed briefly before a sudden onset of weariness, impossible to withstand, overcame them and forced into a deep slumber.

       The men worked meticulously now. They turned the girls’ limp bodies onto their stomachs and handcuffed their wrists behind their backs. They had done the same thing with the parents previously and now they had the whole family lifeless and trussed up. The hard part was done. The plan worked and they could breathe easier. Now it was time to return to their hideout and let the fun begin.

               

Dear diary –

I will tell you a story of events in my life that took place during the past two years. My name is Damon. I am a 30 year old man, smart and attractive, working prosperously as an architect during the daytime and plotting schemes to capture girls into sexual slavery in my free time. I hope that doesn’t shock you. I know it’s a little bit unusual of a hobby, but I guarantee that it’s much more widespread than most people would think. The difference between myself and most other men who harbor such fantasies is that I actually put them into practice. Ok, now you can be shocked. I guess you could say that I am an evil person. That would be a fair initial reaction to what I just told you. But there is more to me than that and I hope that you will realize it after reading what I have to say. And if you don’t, that’s OK; I am not looking for your validation anyway. Without further ado, let’s get on with the story. 

The plan was airtight. We worked it out over the course of two months and really grinded out the smallest details. We knew their daily schedules by heart and could recite at any time where each family member should be at a given time. We may be perverts, but we are certainly not idiots.

I guess I should tell you about my accomplice. Well, he’s a friend. I met him five years ago, at a dreadfully boring AIA conference where we were drawn to each other being amongst the youngest people in the crowd. It was immediately apparent that we had a lot of chemistry and we indulged in some good old fashioned male bonding. Just to clarify – nothing sexual here – we are both straight as ramrods and we will be till the day we die. We hung out at the after party and then we went to grab a few beers at a nearby pub. For the first couple of years of our friendship, we never talked about our sexual preferences. Yes, we would notoriously hit on girls in the bars and clubs we visited and discuss the steamy details the next time we met, but this was all vanilla stuff. It wasn’t until we hung out at my friend’s house one night, his name is Steve by the way, when we drunkenly hit upon some kinky websites on the net. Our inhibitions being lowered by the life-giving alcohol, we quickly divulged to each other that this kind of material was not off limits to either of us. On the contrary, we both had a long history of exploring it. Pretty soon we began trying to one up the other by recalling the sickest things we have seen. This was fun, but it was short lived. We needed the real deal. Neither of us was willing to snoop around the local BDSM community. Playing was not our forte.

Cautiously breaching the subject over the next few months, we eventually came to the conclusion that we should get ourselves real life female slaves. This was a big decision, it could put an end to our lives as we knew them, but it was inevitable and we had to take action. We were the two outliers who would break the mold and do something extraordinary – good or evil. OK, evil.

Kristin was our first target. She was a slinky brunette who oozed sex appeal. I won’t bore you with the details of how we kidnapped her. It was a rather messy job though we were lucky enough that our mistakes didn’t lead to being ousted and foiled. Nobody was the wiser as to what happened. A 22 year old college senior vanished in the mist. Her wealthy family is still running around like Terriers on steroids trying to find any clue. They have no chance. The few scraps of evidence that could have helped were erased by their own ineptitude. We put Kristin, naked of course, in a custom built basement of a mansion that we purchased by combining our funds. It’s a secluded place, perfect for carrying out dark deeds. The house was old and little dilapidated at first, but we soon brought it to order. Lest no one say that architects can only deal with theoretical stuff. We constructed five small cells in the basement, consisting of iron bars on three sides and sitting against the wall on the other.

Now you will have to be a little patient my dear diary, as Kristin’s story is not what I want to focus on, though she will feature in the ensuing tale. At the time of this writing she is still locked in her cell, which has been her home for almost three years. I may tell you what we hold in store for her later on.

As I mentioned, the plan was extremely solid. After figuring out the tiniest details, we were getting ready to take action. This family was perfect. They were upper middle class, educated and wealthy, with two young, beautiful daughters. Steve and I had figured out months before that having just one slave was not enough. We each wanted our own so that we could train them in specific ways and would not have to think about sharing. Also, it was apparent that we wanted two new girls as Kristin, magnificent as she was, became somewhat of a routine nuisance in our lives.

We decided to strike when the family would go on a small excursion to the nearby lake for camping. We’ve seen them do it a couple of times and we were able to scope out the next planned trip date by sneaking up to the house while it was empty during the day and locating a note on the calendar. I had excellent short range binoculars that allowed us to read the post-it notes and calendar writings that the whole family used as memory joggers. We followed the family on a couple of their prior trips and we were able to get a good bearing on the location. The place was secluded and quiet. It was like a god’s gift to girl kidnappers. The act of abduction was rather easy so I won’t bore you with the details. Let me tell you instead a little more about our prospective subjects.

Like I said before, there are two young daughters, Joanna and Megan, aged 19 and 24 respectively. Megan caught my eye in a strip mall recently and I decided to follow her. I wasn’t planning on stalking girls that day, but she was just so perfect. She reminded me of my first love, Cathy, whom I dated as a 15 year old. After another 15 years and many, many relationships, Cathy’s looks are still etched in my brain as a template for an ideal female beauty. Flowing, curly, dark blond hair, angelic face, blue eyes, long legs, relatively wide hips converging into a narrow waist, and big breasts. I would have certainly married Cathy if she wasn’t such a pathetically and unapologetically dumb bitch. I parted ways with her, but her dazzling sex appeal stayed with me for the remainder of my adult life so far and it makes itself known during every interaction with a young, attractive woman.  

       The tedious part of our plan began when we brought the family back to our hideout. The parents, as we knew, were completely and necessarily expendable, but neither of us, being scientifically inclined to value life, has ever done so much as squash a cockroach. Difficult as it was, however, we knew that taking actions was the key to this deal working out. We drove the parents in our car out through the surrounding country. The daughters were informed that their parents would be dumped at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere; presumably safe and secure to search for their daughters, given the opportunity. In reality, we gave each one of them a powerful sleeping pill and then tightened cords around their necks such that breathing became impossible. They never woke up and their passing was very peaceful.

       We brought both of the trussed up sisters back to our hideout. I am not sure why anymore, but our idea was to keep just one of the girls while letting the other go. Presumably this arose from an early notion in which we would let the parents live and we simply didn’t adjust to the changing circumstances. We thought we could keep this wonderful family together, sans one cute girl, so that the wolf would be placated and the sheep uneaten, so to speak. We were going to let the younger girl, Joanna, to walk free. Of course she didn’t know that her parents were buried six feet deep and more importantly, she didn’t know that we were in a pickle. We couldn’t let her go! We were sort of headed against a brick wall here, but the ultimate decision was delayed until it became inevitable.

       In the meantime, we stripped Megan of her clothes, our throats going completely dry as we beheld her beauty, and proceeded to make our intentions clear. I took Megan’s slender wrists and brought them behind her back where I locked a pair of light handcuffs around her wrists. I simply love the idea of using the minimal required restraints to keep a girl in check and that was the rule which we were following here. I purchased these handcuffs from an online vendor making sure that they possessed the required strength as well as lightness of form. Having applied them to the slave girl’s wrists, I was finally able to congratulate myself on a fine choice. It was the most wonderful fit. Somewhat less elegant were the leg restraints. However, these could not be minimalist as they were due to hold the entire body weight and they had better be stout as well as reasonably comfortable.

       I had a wonderful view of the soles of Megan’s feet after they were placed in the leather manacles, joined together by a short length of chain, which extended up to the ceiling where it looped around a load-bearing beam, much like one found in water wells. The chain extending from her feet was looped around the beam and fed to a pulley in the wall, which I now eagerly cranked. I could see Megan’s heavenly figure pulled upwards by her feet. I was a little perturbed seeing that her body was being dragged along the floor as the center of gravity culminated under her ascending feet, but it was short lived enough as the spectacle turned truly marvelous once her shoulders, and then her head, left the floor. Her whole divine body was hanging off the chain now and it was a stimulating sight to say the least. I could see her face contort a little bit in confusion between trying to cope with the pain and outright wailing over her possible fate. We’ve gone through with this before when we kidnapped Kristin. She is boring though and her incessant wailing proved to be annoying. Her expiration date is posted on the refrigerator. Now Megan is another story. I could lick her body all day and all night and I still wouldn’t have enough. She dealt with her suffering in a way that could be expected of a girl acutely aware of her attractiveness. Too proud to beg for mercy, Megan assumed that we were a couple of low life losers who would rape her and discard her body, whether dead or alive. The truth was worse than that for her though. We had elaborate plans and they required her long term participation. I brought my face to her inverted chest and listened, with delight, to her labored breathing. She was suffering indeed.

          I motioned for Steve to take Joanna out of the room. Her eyes were wide in amazement all throughout the proceedings and as much as she wanted to, she simply could not take her eyes away from her sister’s hanging form. I was a little bit uneasy at this point. I was hoping that Steve understood that we have to kill Joanna, much as we did her parents, but articulating that thought simply would not leave my throat. Fortunately, we were rescued from the most unexpected source.

“I am not going!” – exclaimed Joanna.

“You mean… you want to stay here, as to not leave your sister behind?” – I asked, somewhat incredulously and hopefully at the same time.

“Yes!” – Joanna heaved a couple of times right after she spoke that word.

“Well, it’s a possibility. You can be dangling next to your sister within a few minutes. However, mind the fact that she doesn’t want you to stay here and suffer along with her. I mean, would you like her to stay with you if you were in her position or would you rather see her go free?”

“It doesn’t matter! I am not leaving her, no matter what. My parents will look for us and they will find us soon. In the meantime, I will be with my sister regardless of what happens!”

“Very noble of you, sweetie! I can’t let a beautiful sacrifice like that go to waste. Would you be a dear and strip naked without me forcing you to do it? Put your clothes by the wall over there, then come here, next to your sister, under the other hook. As you can easily guess, this one is yours.”

       Joanna sobbed inwardly, but started stripping where she stood, her hands shaking visibly. Soon, she was down to her underwear, exposing her wonderful curves to my eyes. She had a moment of hesitation before unhooking her bra behind her back, but a nod of my head reinforced the point and she continued promptly. Once she was naked, she picked up the pile of clothes from the floor and laid it down at the place I instructed her to. Then she approached the place where her sister was hanging and where, as she knew, she would soon be suffering herself. Her pretty face made for a beautiful contrast against the sharp outline of the frightening metal hook. As much as she tried to look away, her gaze kept coming back to the instruments of the impending torture. I retrieved, from the wall mounted cabinet, and threw to the floor some leather restraints that would soon be used on Joanna’s wrists and ankles. She acknowledged them with a labored gasp and some suppressed sobbing. I approached her nude form with the absolute sweetest smile I could muster behind my overwhelming horndog desire.

       Joanna was so beautiful. Her legs were worthy of having poems written to praise their perfection, her breasts were two mounds of ambrosia just waiting for a daring conqueror to claim as his own. I was downright reverent when I grasped her ankles to place them within the confines of the leather straps. I was utmostly tender when I fastened her wrists behind her back. It was a truly visceral experience to pull on a rope that carried Joanna’s weight on its longitudinal extremity. She was laid flat down on her belly at this point and I pulled at the chain, which extended from her bound ankles. In a dazzling form of gratifying symmetry, Joanna’s body was lifted upwards to match that of her sisters in their dangling helplessness. It happened slowly; first her legs were drawn up and her hips forced to leave the floor. The arch of her back was quite severe now betraying a wonderful limberness on her part. A couple small tugs on the chain caused her breasts and her face to slide along the floor rather painfully, but it was a very brief interlude to what happened later. Joanna’s body was finally lifted on the floor and glowed in its full suspended beauty. I felt inclined to drop down to my knees and suck on her nipples till there is no tomorrow, but I am a civilized man. There is time and place for everything.

Beautiful Megan, muzzled as she was, kept protesting against the treatment imposed on her beloved sister. Nonetheless, Joanna’s body was raised by the unrelenting chain and it was soon evident that the two suspended female bodies really belonged to homologous sisters. There were differences in their faces, and certain parts of their anatomy, but the silhouettes were simply identical. These girls were made to be suspended by their ankles and their wrists reveled in being tied behind their backs.

Fueled by regret for each others’ pain, the two sisters cried miserably through their muzzled lips, filling the room with the sweet sounds that only a properly tortured female can produce. The next thing I knew was having my member inside Megan’s mouth. I simply could not wait any longer and it seemed to me that Megan was relieved for it to happen as well. There was no further uncertainty for her. We already knew a lot about female psychology in distress. We experimented very extensively with Kristin and the analysis of her behavior was paying healthy dividends at this time. I knew that there was no threat for me to insert my penis into Megan’s mouth. True, she could bite down and severely hurt me, but hung as she was, she knew that any act of disobedience would be countered with pain at a level unbearable to experience. That fact made Megan, like Kristin before her, and her sister after, and many young girls since then, docile and obedient.

I put my arms around the slender form of female perfection that was Megan. Of course it was a little bit awkward to hug her waist while her pussy was at the level of my face rather than by my penis, but I happily went along with such oddity. Megan continued to exercise her divine mouth, trying to get me to orgasm in the shortest time possible, but I would have none of it. Utilizing a small set of retardation tactics, I could prolong my sexual experience ad-nauseum. I relished in feeling her stretched out form in my arms and against my body. I could sense her fear so tantalizingly emanated from every mouth-watering crevice. She contorted herself by tightening her stomach muscles and getting some faint semblance of control over her destiny in the process. Even a girl hung naked by her ankles, given the slightest inclination, will develop an over-inflated sense of self-importance. I could tell that Megan was subconsciously trying to position herself into a level of dominance. For a moment at least, she thought that I desired her with abandon, and the realization changed her attitude to that of an entitled princess. A few perfunctory and rugged slaps to her breasts made her rethink her approach. The remainder of the fellating session was an exercise in relaxation. I came in her mouth very strongly, but without losing control. I found surprising pleasure in watching Joanna eye her older sister as she eagerly worked her mouth to give me pleasure.  

It deserves to be spelled out in detail that Joanna quickly came to regret her decision of staying behind with her sister. Of course she couldn’t have known that the alternative was to be drugged senseless and strangled to death, but given her set of knowledge, it had to be extremely painful to be aware that she could be leisurely pacing the length of her family home’s living room or reclining on a plush sofa in front of the TV rather than hang with utmost helplessness for the pleasure of two perverts such as ourselves. She even uttered her belated wish a couple of times. Something like “Please, let me go!” escaped her lips on more than one occasion. Obviously, it was too late for that now.

To be continued…