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The walled-in “Slave City” section of the city was located in the more unsavory part of town. The law and the authorities didn’t go there or do anything that might interfere with the blatantly immoral and illegal operations that were a normal facet of life there. After all, even the politicians and the judges needed an established, reliable vendor of slavegirls from time to time. Better to be able to purchase a nice piece of slave-flesh from someone you’re familiar with rather than relying on some unknown foreign-based entity.

Slave City’s merchants were known for their wide array of offerings of female slaves. Drugs and other criminal activities were discouraged (strongly) there; the preferred activity of Slave City was white slavery. The merchants there prided themselves on their dedication and devotion to the best service when it came to providing prospective slave owners with quality captive pussy. Beautiful, healthy, prime pussy-meat and plenty of it. Brought in from all corners of the country by wide assortment of various Slave Hunters lured by the hefty bounties paid for their captured prey.

Slave Hunters came in all sizes, backgrounds and were both male and female. One of the best female Hunters was Big Irma, whose huge size was only matched by the large sexual appetite she exhibited for some of the pretty slaves in her custody while in route yet another handsome profit from her wholesale buyers at Slave City. More than a few times, Irma ended up pocketing less cash than originally intended because of a last-minute reluctance to part with a particular slave that she had become particularly fond of while transporting her to a waiting buyer. Rumor had it that Big Irma’s secluded country home was equipped a vast underground warehouse stocked full of pretty, obedient slavegirls whose only purpose was to tend to their Mistress’s very substantial needs….

Prolific Slave Hunter Big Irma was a familiar visitor to the single nondescript door at the rear wall of Slave City. Only through this door, always tended by the affable Miss Sarah, were new slaves delivered by their various Hunters. Usually accompanied by a chattering gaggle of the female midgets referred to as ‘Littles’, the smiling Miss Sarah would pass the visiting Hunters and their latest human cargo by the serious, ever-ready armed guards who stood just inside the entrance.

Today Irma came flush with nearly a dozen freshly-abducted slaves in tow. “Hmmmm, now Irma, I see you’ve done got us some really fine pieces of stuff there,” Miss Sarah observed, casting an approving eye especially on the tall blonde shackled directly behind the big Huntress. “Are you gonna be sellin’ all of ’em or you gonna keep one or two for yourself again?”

A place like Slave City could not exist without at least the tacit consent of the larger city’s governing elite. And the elite’s cadre of politicians, law enforcement officials, business interests and media all turned a blind eye to the ongoing slave-trade that flourished within the walls there. But not a totally blind eye. of course: Each week more than a quarter million dollars in bribe money found it’s way into the hands and pockets of city and regional officials in return for their inability to recognize what everyone knew was happening down in Slave City.

Making things even more interesting was the fact that quite a few of the city elite not only tolerated the various sordid activities that characterized Slave City, but also were participated in them. Unseen and unacknowledged to others, many of the stately manors and assorted elite private clubs, on close examination, contained well-hidden, sound-proof dungeons stocked with comely slave maidens who tended to every vulgar, base need.

Tossing aside their cloaks of respectability, some of those proper citizens occasionally used the services of the various slave merchants to solve personal ‘problems or settle old scores. One example was the Mayor’s wife, Mrs. Nanering, a outwardly proper and staid matron of the city’s social upper-crust.

Mrs. Nanering had long been enraged by the rather aggressive reporting by a certain young writer for the local newspaper; a series of articles hinting of possible backroom deals by Mayor Nanering with some of the city’s real estate developers. The Mayor, secure in his power and connections, laughed off the reports but his wife was one who carried a grudge. And it was one of the slavers in Slave City to which she turned to in order to exact her revenge.

The crusading reporter, Shelly Flynn, along with her unfortunate female roommate, Diane, disappeared from their apartment one night. The three kidnappers were silent and efficient, like they’d done something like this many times before. The pain caused Miss Flynn to regain consciousness. She was being flogged by a strange black man in this large, rather dingy room. Facing her was a small party of people. Miss Flynn was startled even more to see that leading the pack was the Mayor’s portly wife. Something was different about Mrs. Nanering now. Maybe it was how she had her dress pulled down, exposing her big breasts. Maybe it was how she had her legs spread wide so that Shelly’s friend, Diane, could continue eating her pussy….

“I’ve never been a person who could forgive a slight easily, my dear,” Mrs. Nanering told Shelly. “It’s too bad that your pretty little friend here got caught up in all this, but it’s your fault. But I’m not a heartless woman – since she’s really trying her best with that tongue of hers, I’m considering keeping her. My husband and I have the most darling little cell built in the basement of our home. ”

“But you, you meddling bitch, are going to spend the rest of your miserable life working in a whorehouse down here. Our dark friend here is going to keep whipping you until you’re ready to beg me to let you stick your tongue up my ass while I pass some shit. Then we’re all going to spend some real quality time letting you show us how sorry you are before we watch you get dragged off to your new life….”

Within the slave commercialism of Slave City, the female midgets that people referred to as ‘Littles’, were everywhere. Almost every slave merchant’s operation had ‘Littles’ on their remises; roaming freely, mostly naked, their food and lodging provided to them. Legend had it that they were good luck for any merchant that sheltered and pampered them.

But the Littles also provided a real service to the slave sellers that catered to them. These small ladies were mostly the ones who helped deliver the slaves’ food; who assisted with punishment and bathing; who were the slave-sellers’ ever-present eyes and ears within their large slave-holding areas, reporting back on any possible escape plots or other potential troubles. And although their physical statures might have been on the smaller side, their sexual urges toward the many nubile slave maidens with whom they spent so much time. Some Littles boldly approached their targeted slavegirls, threatening to make trouble for them if they refused to cooperate; others took advantage of the slaves’ despairing loneliness and hopelessness, offering false sympathy and comfort in return for a sexual relationship. It was said that few of the most lusty slave-buyers could match a ‘Little’ in regards of getting their sexual satisfaction. It was quite common for a Little to receive as many as a dozen orgasms a day from a multitude of captive slave tongues. After all, it was so easy for one of them to straddle her slave’s face, offering a small, available pussy for servicing. So easy to eventually shift that small asshole forward in order to impale it on the slave’s tongue….

Little Rhia always prowled her Master’s collection of slave holding-cells in search of a new captive who appealed to her. Tonight it was the frightened new blond arrival named Marian who caused Rhia’s nipples to harden; perhaps it was those bright green eyes, so wide with fear, so filled with tears….

“Ohhhhh, you poor, poor girl,” Rhia whispered in her most soothing of voices. “So scared, I know how you must feel. And I see that those mean men have abused you. I’m so sorry that they hurt you. Look, I’ll talk to them and tell them to be nicer to you, okay? Wouldn’t you like that? I’ll tell them that we’re close friends and that we’re in love, okay? Oh, you can’t talk with that horrible gag, can you? Tell you what, I’ll take it off so you and I can kiss. Here, why don’t I scoot you down a bit so that you can be more comfortable on your back…..?”

The midget maidens were always quick to recognize a particularly vulnerable slavegirl and then arrange for her to be removed from the main group of prisoners. The targeted girl was usually much more servile and cooperative once she was isolated with only the Littles being her only human contact. The slave merchants tolerated this; one or two slaves would not be missed from the large number they dealt with. As a rule, chosen slave would most likely be taken to her tiny hosts’ living quarters and kept there, locked in one of the special cells created for just such a purpose. There, if she was smart, she would entertain one Little Mistress after another. She would soon realize just how all-encompassing her duties were, how difficult it would be to be forced to fully satisfy every gentle demand made by as many as a dozen little resident pussies and assholes. It would sometimes be almost impossible for her to sleep more than an hour at time before being awakened by a miniature cunt being pushed against her face or a little fist being inserted deep in her cunt…

Slave Marian had been the chosen one this time. Securely kept in the midget women’s’ so-called ‘orgy room’, Marian was trying her best to keep them happy through her oral efforts. But it was becoming harder and harder to keep up with their many demands on her time and her tongue; a tongue that was now sore and felt raw from hours upon hours of licking, sucking and kissing a seemingly endless line of midget cunts, anuses, toes and even underarms. Furthermore, much to her surprise, there was also painful punishment – although it was given under the guise of it being a just another part of sex. But the paddles favored by her small hostesses did hurt; a few times she passed out from the agony inflicted by those full-weight swings administered by competing paddlers. They were always so sorry when Marian came to; soothing and comforting her by guiding her pretty, flushed face to their pussies. “Poor girl,” one would say. “Here, eat my cunt and make yourself feel better….”

Slave Marian was a keeper, her Little Mistresses decided. She always tried so hard to please and was now compliant, so open to whatever sexual demand made upon her, no matter how perverse. Yes, Marian was a ‘ house slave’ to be proud of – so much so that they frequently invited ladies from other Little Mistress groups over to experience Marian for themselves.

Even the visiting Little Miss Juanita, known for her rather bitchy and demanding attitude when it came to sex, was impressed with this Slave Marian. Especially impressed at how Marian pushed and rimmed that talented tongue of hers around and inside Miss Jaunita’s anus.

“God! She’s so good!” Juanita exclaimed, her pussy and asshole still twitching from her second orgasm……

Slave-selling was not only commerce in Slave City. The abundance of attractive female chattel also provided a ready and cheap source for staffing the many sex clubs populating the area. It was said that in Slave City, one could easily find fashion-model quality slaves serving in even the most dingy and squalid of clubs; that for a few dollars, one could subject a nineteen year-old slave with Miss Universe looks to the most degrading of sex. Indeed, the Slave City strip clubs, sex bars and whorehouses were known for the beauty of the captured and collared slavegirls who worked there; so much so that they attracted cusomers from across the state.

Not only did the various clubs cater to the expected influx of male customers, there also existed quite a number of sex establishment catering to female clients. The lesbian Club Matrixia For Women, for example, was a large establishment divided into four main ‘lounges’ in the front, with each lounge containing a score of ‘private’ rooms conveniently located to it’s rear. The typical Club Matixia customer was an mature female executive or businesswoman, although there women who hailed from all walks of life.

She came to experience a leisurely period of time with the slavehost of her choice and to have herself serviced and pleased in any manner that she might dictate. The rates were not cheap but there was rarely a complaint about that; after all, that young slavehostess was invariably beautiful of face and body and subservient. No sexual demand would be refused and the slavehostess knew better than to leave her customer unsatisfied. Some ladies came to stay any hour or so, quite a few other paid for overnight or weekend privileges. One could choose a slavehostess strictly for sex or pain or both (the Club retained a wide variety of whips, paddles and straps for rent).

As in most of Slave City’s sex bars and clubs, the main attraction at Club Matixia for Women was definitely the rather plain, aging decor (although it was kept extremely clean). It’s lesbian client’s chief concern was the quality of the Club’s impressive offering of SlaveHostesses; literal prisoners-of-love whose only duty was the pleasuring of the women who picked them from from the large photo book at the front bar.

Miss Abrams was very taken with her chosen slavehostess, Marian. She had instantly sensed this girl’s almost innate submissive nature. ” I’m a very successful woman, my dear,” Miss Abrams told the girl as she explored her pussy with her strong, experienced fingers. Hmmm, nice and tight. ” I have so many pressures, so many responsibilities and I need a sweet girl like you to relax me by giving me the satisfaction that I deserve. You’ll do that, won’t you, darling? Yes, I just know you’re going to do your best to show me that I was right in choosing you….”

The Slave City whorehouses tended be a bit more on the sleazy side, if even that. But that didn’t mean that the ladies forced the slavery of whoredom were lacking any more in the quality of their looks and pedigree than those who served in the more high-end clubs. Sometimes where a slave ended up was a mere result of a special sale price at the wholesale level or the consequence of a complaint from a customer. The only difference concerning the whorehouse slavegirls was that they usually began to lose their looks and spirit more quickly because of the rougher nature of treatment and a much higher use by their male visitors.

Sheryl hadn’t been used up yet. being that she had been purchased from her slave seller only a couple days before. The whorehouse owner known as Greaser liked Sheryl’s pretty girl-next-door face and her trim, twenty year-old body with those perky tits. He had over thirty slavewhores making him steady money on their backs, so it wasn’t as if he was in any big hurry to rush this new girl into service. What’s the use of having all a sweet little package of fuckmeat around if you can’t enjoy it yourself, Greaser was fond of saying. And this one, a daughter of a cop, wasn’t she? That made it so much better! So much better as she begged him as he and his house bodyguard walked her into the back room….

Sheryl cringed in pain as her new owner spread her legs and roughly started to force his impressive cock in her tight pussy. Greaser laughed at her distress and plunged himself all the way to the hilt.

“Just think of it, your ol’ cop dad’s probably runnin’ around all crazy lookin’ for his darlin’ girl! Wonder what he’d say if he knew that his sweet gal was gettin’ her cunt all fulled up with ol’ Greaser’s big dick, huh? Wonder how he’d say if he could see ya in a couple hours when me and my buddy here have ya movin’ and fuckin’ like a damn streetwhore?”

Although it was difficult for a Slave City Slave Wholesaler to end up losing money, the Tennet Brothers managed to do just that. The two siblings, Mitch and Madison, typified the ways to not operate a slave-selling business. It seemed that a Tennet slavegirl always carried permanent scarrings or marks on her body and she would most likely be too mentally damaged to be trained to serve at anything other than the most menial labors and be used as anything other than a low-status fuck-whore. A buyer could purchase a slave from the Tennet Brothers Slavery Co. at roughly half the price of one bought from the other sellers – but you get what you pay for. The area’s back-alley whorehouses were packed with Tennet slaves; broken, limp girls who listlessly serviced those street tramps, drug addicts and blue-collar losers who frequented them because that was all they could afford. These poor girls were disposable and usually only lasted a few months before they had to be dispatched and sold as dog food….

The reason for the Tennets’ sorry state of affairs was simple: Both were sadists who had gotten into the slave-selling as a way to be able to indulge their vicious urges rather than as treating it as a business. And being not too bright, they usually were barely able to make ends meet after paying for new slaves, the slave-holding facilities and the hired help.

Once again the Tennet Brothers were in the process of losing money as they allowed good buddy Harold to spend time with just-purchased Bernice. Ol’ Harold liked to apply the hot iron to a slaves body over a period of hours. He loved the screams. Madison and Mitch liked hearing it also. Harold could only afford a few dollars for ruining a potentially profitable slave – but what the hell, he was an old friend from way back….

The slavers sold their human stock to both the usually affluent outsiders and to the usually less-than-affluent citizens who resided within the Slave City section. In fact, almost half the regular adult residents of Slave City were owners of one or more slavegirls. These people might have to save up a bit more in order to purchase a comely piece of slavepussy, but that never seemed to be a problem. Besides the increased sales, there was also an additional advantage of the “City’s” common citizens being slaveholders; having experienced all the pleasures that went with owning a slavegirl in their homes, these citizens weren’t likely to tolerate much in the way of anti-slavery agitation or to cooperate with any outside political concerns or law enforcement agencies bent on undermining their way of life.

Slave-owning crossed all social and economic barriers within the “City” and spurred on by the addition lure of a special ‘Slave City Resident Discount’, groups of women were just as likely as men to be found strolling amongst the many slave retailing stalls located in the central commercial area. Fully a half-dozen slave shops were owned by women slave sellers, some of them specializing in selling slave to women only. Dora’s Slave Shoppe, owned by ex-judge Dora Walcott, catered only to female customers. Dora didn’t spend much on the interior design or advertising of her modest operation. In fact, thee was no large outside street sign signifying her business; only a small handwritten placard stating “Dora’s” on the simple metal door. But Dora had earned a reputation for offering a selection of only the most beautiful and compliant slavegirls between the ages of 19 and 22, with firm, unmarked bodies: girls from upper and upper middle-class backgrounds. Slavegirls perfect for providing both pleasure and for doing house labor.

Slave Paula was typical of the kind of slave available to the ladies who shopped at Dora’s Slave Shoppe. An aspiring model and college student before she was kidnapped into bondage, Paula’s haughty, Nordic looks had attracted most of the attention from the early female shoppers who cruised the various slave pens that filled the interior of the business. Paula’s bidding price had peaked at fourteen thousand dollars, the winning bid put forward by the black wife of a local used car dealer, Pearl and her younger sister, Maybell. This was Pearl’s third slave purchased at Dora’s; word had it that Pearl and Maybell were ladies with unusually large sexual appetites. Whatever the reasons, here they were again.

“Damn, girl, you a fine, fine piece of tail!” Pearl intent of taking her time examining her latest buy. “Don’t you think so, Maybell? Think this here gal is just the cutest little thing?”

“Yeah, she sweet, alright. Gonna need a lotta educatin’ in how we want things done, though. I can tell she still got some ways to go in order to keep my hips movin’, know what I mean?”

“Oh, get off it, Maybell. You was sayin’ the same damn thing ’bout them other two bitches when we got ’em – and all them moans you was makin’ last night sure didn’t sound like you was complainin’ in any way!”

Miss Ida and her Ma didn’t make much money in their various house-cleaning jobs, but the thoughtful Resident Discount allowed for them to be able to afford to buy just the sweetest little nineteen year-old white gal the other week. Yep, a pretty, perky petite ex-cheerleader named Janet. Janet was yellin’ and jumpin’ up and down, cheerin’ on her college football team a couple months ago. Now Janet’s world was a completely different one; the squat, rotund black woman who cleaned floors and scrubbed toilets for a living was now the one who liked nothin’ better than straddling Janet’s chest in order that Janet mouth could do some intense cleanin’ of that ol’ black pussy. It seemed that in this tiny, substandard ghetto apartment, all life for Janet consisted of scrubbin’, cookin’ and pleasurin’ Miss Ida and Ma.

Ma must have been in her late 80s or early 90s, but that didn’t stop her from havin’ Janet down on her knees eatin’ Ma’s old wrinkled cunt or suckin’ at Ma’s smelly asshole three or four times a day. Janet accepted her fate as a slave to these two old sistas, but it was still hard for her to get used to being regularly bent over by and paddled Miss Ida each day. It was so painful and Miss Ida always insisted that Janet thank her after each heavy stroke of that rough wooden instrument. Miss Ida keep tellin’ Janet that she’d get used to it…

Miss Ida’s usual daily routine with slave Janet was the dozen or so hard whacks with the paddle immediately upon arriving home for work. Then the fat old black woman would toss the slavegirl unto the bed for a session of face-riding Janet’s cute pink lips for the first orgasm of the evening – as far as Miss Ida was concerned, that is; Ma’s ancient pussy had usually had a lot of attention from Janet throughout the day.

Miss Ida’s solid frame would shift it’s crushing weight on slave Janet’s as the captive girl licked and suckled on that thick black clit. “Um-Hum’, yas, yas! Dat’s the way, girl, dat’s the way eat pussy! You keeps on goin’ now, don’t you stop. Your Miss Ida, she’s gettin’ ready to cum in yo’ face! Yas, she gonna feed ya all kinds of pussy juice, have ya lap it all up….!”

One thing about Slave City: It sure did encourage entrepreneurship of behalf of it’s citizens. Miss Ida, for example, finally realized that not only could her pretty white slave Janet be a source of much pleasure at home, she could also be a source of some much-needed supplemental cash when put to work out on the street. After arranging for a corner space in front of a grocery in return for a small daily fee, Miss Ida, with only a large window sign, an old armchair and a beat-up mattress, was ready for business. And to Miss Ida’s delight, business was good. Nothing like an opportunity to fuck a cute piece of ass to make an afternoon stroll worthwhile. Convenient too. In her first two hours on the corner, slave Janet had fucked three customers, sucked off two others and had licked two cunts. Not bad. Already Miss Ida had begun to calculate how much of Janet’s earnings could be set aside for the purchase of another slavegirl to work alongside her. Also, perhaps it might be a good idea to rent a larger apartment or a small house in order that she might set herself up as a madam with her own small stable of slave whores. Out such simple beginnings are fortunes sometimes made….

Miss Ida’s first day as a street-corner vendor of slave pussy was coming to an end. Her pretty white slave, Janet, had attracted a surprisingly large number of customers who gladly paid the modest fee to sample what she had. Slave Janet’s lips were sore from sucking all those cocks and clits, her mouth and throat tasted of putrid cum and cunt juices and her pussy was so raw that she cried and wrenched in pain as she took the cock of the last customer of the evening.

“C’mon, girl, sit yourself down on our nice gentleman’s dick. Hurry up, gal, don’t keep him waitin’! You don’t wanna make me look bad in front of these other peoples, do ya?”

Janet groan was shrill as she impaled herself. It hurt something awful as she obediently began to move and grind her hips, thrilling the customer with her fucking…..

Lonnie had bought freckled-faced Claudette only a day before and he had already rode her with his big dick at least a dozen times. He didn’t know what it was about her that made his cock instantly get hard and twitching, but whatever it was, she had it. Lonnie lived with his main woman, Scarlett, and although she had not hesitated in the least when it can to using slave Claudette to satisfy her own needs, Scarlett still was having a jealously problem. Damn, she thought, he’s addicted to that bitch’s pale pussy; every time I look, he’s on top of her. It wasn’t a case of Lonnie having ignored Scarlett. She still got her share of that hard fuckin’ – it just wasn’t as often as that new slave bitch was gettin’ hers. Already, very tentative thoughts, tentative but dark, had begun flirting around in Scarlett’s brain. Thoughts of perhaps poison or some kind of ‘arranged’ accident that would result on slave Janet no longer being around…..

Lonnie made his money in the City’s shady underworld. Scarlett and he never discussed his ‘work’ – and she knew better than to ask. Lonnie could be quite dangerous if irritated in the slightest, so whatever Scarlett might consider in the way of ridding herself of this pesky slave would have to be done with great caution on her part.

Scarlett would have to hold her tongue and conceal her hostility toward this new slavegirl and all the attention being given her by Lonnie. Maybe, just maybe, Lonnie would actually injure the bitch by fucking her so damn often. Just like now: Lonnie had only been away for a little over an hour’s time and it looked like he was getting ready to fuck slave Janet after having just returned to the house. Yes, Scarlett noticed the large bulging in his pants as he went over to the cringing captive and pulled her to him.

“You know, bitch, all I was thinkin’ about was gettin’ back home and fuckin’ the shit outta ya,” Lonnie told the slave. ” C’mere, honey, give yo’ Lonnie-man some more of those lovin’ little kisses dat you do so well. Here, put yo’ hand down here and feel how hard my dick is. Yeahhhh…..Big, ain’t it? Shit, let’s go inna bedroom now. I’m gonna fuck ya in the ass because I’m feelin’ all randy-like, know what I’m sayin’?

“Scarlett, why don’t ya come in with us? Got an idea, after I’m done fuckin’ this bitch, why don’t you go an’ put on that big ol’ strapon ya got and then you take your turn at drilling her in her ass while I watch? Yeah, I’d like to see that…..”

Lonnie’s big weakness was his gambling habit. Being young and somewhat overconfident, he was frequently easy pickings for the older, more experienced players who populated the card tables which he habitually sought out. it seems like Lonnie was always one winning card short of winning. Then one night he lost quite a lot to Big Benny, lost more money than he could get his hands on within the week. And Big Benny was definitely not the type of person who tolerated not being paid what he was owed. Lonnie, besides the bit of cash and car that he gave Big Benny to satisfy part of his debt, could offer only one other thing that might save his health and life prospects. And Big Benny took one look at slave Janet and decided to accept her as the remaining settlement to the debt owed to him.

Lonnie’s cock had been large, but slave Janet soon discovered that Big Benny wasn’t called that because of his height or weight! His hugeness stretched Janet’s pussy and caused her to cry out in agony as he slam-fucked in that brutal way that he like so well. Her cries and screams were even louder when he turned her over on her stomach so that he shove that humongous shaft up her protesting rectum. She hoped that she might somehow stretch enough so that some of the distress might lessen – but he was just too big…..

“Uhhhhhh, here it comes, baby,” Big Benny grunted as he once again began to crudely forced his monstrous cock into slave Janet’s sore pussy. ” Goddamn, gal, you is still tight! I ain’t complainin’ , though – I love feelin’ my dick pryin’ you open as it works it’s way in…..”

Janet head jerked from side to side and a hoarse gasp came from her cum-tasting throat as the head of Big Benny’s thirteen inch shaft rammed against the rear of her uterine wall. “Hhhhhhhhuggggghhhhh….!” She felt as though she was being split apart…..

“Oh, yeah…. yeahhhhh. So good, baby… so goooooddddd…!”

Ronald Williams was one of the mid-sized Slave retailers who plied their trade in the seedy environs of Slave City. ‘Ron’s Slave Sales’, while not as large an operations as some of the others, was still well-regarded for the quality of the slavegirls that populated it’s stalls. Ron was a person who got in this rather unsavory field simply because he enjoyed having access to scores of pretty girls who couldn’t say ‘no’ when he wanted his pleasures. Ron Williams had always had a big problem getting laid in his earlier days – the reason being that huge dick of his; the womenfolk tended to flee when they got a look at the size of it. There had also been many instances in which a woman had begged off after just a few minutes of having her insides battered by Ron’s monster of a cock. For them, what Ron had for a cock was just a bit too much.

But the slavegirls that found themselves prisoners of Ron’s Slave Sales could not say ‘no’ to the man who now was in complete control of them. They could only gag from trying to fit their captive mouths over that giant cock’s width or whimper as it stretched their suffering pussies and assholes so much that it felt that their flesh would tear or rip. Out of each shipment of new slave meat, Master Ron would select two or three captives that especially appealed to him and keep them in a separate area to await his visits….

One of Master Ron’s current choices for his personal attentions was a pretty 21 year-old filly named Anita. Anita had been previously engaged to a successful young man and had been looking forward to a wonderful life full of promise and contentment. Now all that was behind her as she gasped while obeying Master Ron’s instruction to hold his cock in her dainty hands and admire it.

“It’s all yours, gal,” Ron whispered as he held Anita close to him. The slavegirl’s fingers felt so good as they tried to wrap themselves around his huge meat. “Not many bitches get a chance to experience a superior dick like this one, so you should consider yourself real lucky.”

Slave Anita suffered as Master Ron impaled her protesting pussy with his hard, huge pole. Ron liked to make his girls scream and squirm in their discomfort; it make him feel like a real macho man when they begged him to ‘please stop, you’re hurting me’. That only served to excite him more and keep his shaft hard as he ratcheted up the intensity of his sexual assault on their holes. He was assaulting Anita in one of the stall set aside for his ‘personal-use’ slavegirls while another chosen slavegirl looked one in horror in the knowledge that she would soon be subjected to the same treatment before the day was over. Ron always made sure that the other slaves who he had selected for himself would be able to look on or listen to the cries and moans of the bitch that he was raping; it thrilled him to know that they were trembling at the thought that they would have to experience the same terrible fate, that it would eventually be their turn. That made them sob and whimper in panic as he approached them with that grossly oversized, muscular cock fully erect and ready to do it’s damage. He really enjoy that, making them cry even before he had started to press his big meat-weapon into their warm, yielding flesh.

Making it even more enjoyable at the moment was the presence of one of the midget maidens, Little Kari. Little Kari, ever the impertinent and irreverent sort, liked to closely observe Master Ron’s rapes, making lewdly and sometime hilarious comments and even injecting herself into the action; licking Ron’s balls or ass while he fucked or lending a small fist to whatever hole Ron’s cock was not pummeling at the moment….

“Oh, fuckit, girl – you’re acting like you haven’t had a cock in ya before,” chortled Little Kari as she watched slave Anita squirm and whine as Master Ron began to open up her cunt with his big dick. ” Godamnit, Master, these young girls today just don’t appreciate good lovin’! But she’ll learn, she’ll learn to appreciate it just like this other slavegal is appreciatin’ how good my asshole tastes on her tongue.”

Little Kari stretched out and pulled slave Anita’s face toward hers. “Here, gimme that cute mouth of yours, girl – give your Little Kari some wet kisses while the Master fucks you….”

Miss Venus had just made her choice after careful consideration of all the new slave meat on display at Ron’s Slave Sales. The petite slave Mary would suit her purposes just fine. The pale slave’s next-door looks would be very popular as she was paired with some of the hardened bull-dyke and street ho performers in one of the popular lesbian sex shows that Miss Venus was known for putting on at her Venus Lesbian Palace. Her shows were usually old out in advance, the capacity audiences eager to watch as innocent slavegirls were put through their paces by the older veteran lesbian bitches that Miss Venus chose especially for their big clits and dominant sexual ways. The audiences loved seeing frightened and subservient slaves eating dome pussy and ass, painfully taking brutal fists and drinking quarts of dome piss. They howled with pleasure as the slavegirls screamed in pain as their dome partners flogged their tender bodies with an assortment of straps, belts, canes and paddles.

This slave Mary would be a perfect partner to endure the onstage attentions of Miss Bertha, a particular brutal and beefy street-whore who was a favorite performer of Miss Venus. Miss Venus would have to caution Betha, of course; Miss Bertha sometimes tended to get carried away and might damage this fragile little bitch if not properly -and repeatedly cautioned. But first, Miss Venus would keep Mary caged in her person quarters over the next week or so in order that she have the chance to show her new Mistress-owner the proper appreciation of being purchased.

Newly-bought slave Mary could only repress her urge to gag as she obediently open her mouth wide to accept the drooled spit offered her by her new Mistress-owner, Miss Venus.

“Ahhh, that’s a sweet girl,” Miss Venus said as her saliva trailed down to coat her new slave’s submissive tongue. A cute, appealing tongue; so suitable for exploring all the dark, wet places that the Mistress had in mind for it. “Now taste it thoroughly before you swallow it. Mmmm, you like it, don’t you…?

For a pair of mature, hard-edged dome dykes like Shona and Ginger, being featured performers at the Venus Lesbian Palace was a very pleasant situation in which they essentially got paid for indulging themselves to their heart’s content. Both had deeply-ingrained traits of dominant/sadism and a definite liking for getting their pleasures from the rough use of their subservient slavegirl stage partners. Ginger was a good ol’ country gal, a former biker mama and barfly. She had come to especially enjoy using the compact whip taken off the dead body of another rival domme in a fight over a young female captive that they had both claimed. That had been a decade ago, but Ginger had shown no signs of mellowing as she approached her middle 50s. Shona was a black former streetwalker and brothel whore, a real tough old sista who once took possession of a cute little blond gal from a particular tough pimp and his number-one ho by cutting their throats as they slept. She was too old to work the street corners now, but no matter as she had become an audience favorite at the Lesbian Palace with her sometimes savage ways in taking her pleasure.

These two hard-assed bitches had formed an unlikely friendship in the early days of their employment at the Palace that was first based on each admiring the other’s work onstage. Now roommates in their moderate quarters located on an upper floor in the building that housed the Palace, Ginger and Shona were the types who sometimes tool their work home with them. Today their ‘work’ was poor slave Patty, a delectable piece of pussymeat who had been forced to serve as Shona’s submissive partner in her time onstage. Only last night had slave Patty caused audience cocks to harden and audience pussies to moisten as she dutifully closed out their act by tearfully gulping down the foul lumps of turd that a squatting, sexually satiated Shona had grunted out of her ass. A standing ovation for Shona and her latest little bitch.

Miss Venus, ever so eager to keep one of her top performer domes happy and in the fold, had agreed to Shona’s request to buy slave Patty for discounted sum. Patty would be replaced onstage by yet another slavegirl who would thrilled the onlookers by doing whatever Shona wanted her to; slave Patty’s new mission in life would be as a live-in slave to her Mistresses Ginger and Shona.

Ginger patiently waited her turn with their new slavemeat, watching intently as her girlfriend Shona played tongue-tag with slavemeat Patty on the bed. Ginger noticed that Shona was in heat now, her dark skin glistening with a thin coat of sweat as she began working her hard, experienced fist into Patty’s protesting asshole and she knew what was coming. What was coming was so much shrill screaming and shrieking from slavemeat Patty as Shona’s black fist dug it’s way ever so much deeper up Patty’s rectum. Shona knew just how to inflict so much delicious agony without causing injury and everyone else on their floor would hear the slave’s loud, pitiful cries as her dome Shona finally cored her relentless arm in up to the elbow.

Yes, Ginger had to wait for her chance to introduce herself and her whip to this new slavebitch, but in the meantime it was going to be quite a show…..

Of course the majority of lesbian purchases of slavegirls were for strictly non-commercial purposes. The ladies of the 12th Street Social Circle had pooled their monies to buy a fresh-faced virgin, a very expensive proposition indeed. Virgins of legal age were rare nowadays, so this had been no bargain. Fifty thousand was the non-negotiable price for the blond-tressed 23 year-old virgin former school teacher named Dianne. But the Circle ladies had wanted a beauty unspoilt by the cocks of men, someone of beauty and able to wet the panties of the members when they thought of their time with her.

Dianne had not been broken or trained like the majority of slavegirls purchased; the ladies of the Circle thought that it would be so much better to be able to themselves make her into the dutiful sexual slave maiden that they wanted her to be. This was slave Dianne’s first night of enslavement at the Circles basement facility that they had set aside for her. Her first protests were discouraged by the whips that had been handed out to the first grouping of lust-eyed women who came to visit her and get acquainted. Miss Emma had drawn the first straw; she would have the honor of being the first to show slave Dianna how to eat a woman’s pussy.

The slavegirl, a product of a religious upbringing, whetted the ladies’ appetites with her pleadings as Miss Emma pulled her gently but firmly to the bed in which she would be performing her subservient duties to her Mistresses for the many years to come.

“Come, darling, climb on the bed with me so I can begin teaching you how to satisfy an experienced woman,” Miss Emma insisted with an urgency resulting from a pussy twitching from anticipation.

“Oh, please! Please don’t….” The slave’s words were cut short by a half-dozen strokes of another lady’s whiplet.

“Get your pitiful ass on the bed, you fucking thankless bitch,” the other lady yelled at Dianne as she raised her arm to deliver another stinging blow.

“Now, now, no need for that, is there, dear? See, our sweetie was just a little shy, that’s all. Here, my girl, suck on this tit. It will make you feel better….”

But even with the lesbian-oriented share of the slavery business, two-thirds of the retail buying market in Slave City still composed of men. Men, with their sometimes irrational sexual drives; men who felt the need to satisfy the urges that built up in their cocks, cocks that bulged and throbbed beneath all those trousers and jeans. The males just had to have it, just had to have that hard, snug feeling that came from having their dicks deep inside a slavegirl’s pussy, mouth and ass.

These men made the slave-hunters, the slave wholesalers and retailers rich – or at the least, financially comfortable. Lust, pure and simple, was the name of the game. The captured slavegirls, from all walks of life and from all parts of the nation, were the living, human, chattel in this game, this business. They had no rights, no way of protest or resistance. They could only serve, to obey, to satisfy the needs of those who purchased their bodies.

So it still was back at Ron’s Slave Sales as Master Ron enjoyed the supple body of yet another captured slavebitch who had caught his fancy. Her sale price, based on the fact that she had be so brutally used since she was bought wholesale, would be lower – but not so much as one would think. There were buyers who preferred bitches who had been sexually broken down by a crude stud like Master Ron; these slaves would feel a relief at servicing normal cocks and satisfying normal desires in contrast to what they had endured from his too-big shaft and his sometimes hour-long fuckings.

Ron’s voice was guttural and hoarse as he grunted out orders to the slavemeat who sat astride him, her aching asshole impaled on his rock-hard shaft. ” Work it, cunt. Work that ass. Keep it movin’ ! Yeah, like that! Keep that butt movin! Faster!”

The slavegirl bounced her ass faster, up and down on that huge dick that felt like it would tear at her innards. The pain was so was overwhelming – but she had no choice but to give her Master what he wanted. Give him everything he wanted…

Although white slavery could be quite an uncomfortable experience for the slavegirls involved, there were instances of tenderness and consideration within the sales stalls within Slave City. Girls who, in normal circumstances, would have lived their lives confined strictly within a certain social strata, would now have the opportunity to meet and mix with new people and surroundings. So in a way, the slave retailers of Slave City were performing a valuable social service by bringing together people of different economic backgrounds and outlooks. Take slave Tammy, for example: If Tammy had not been abducted just two days before her wedding, she would probably would have spent most of her life in a dreary routine of upper-class pursuits and submitting to her dull financier husband’s small cock. Now Tammy would be saved from all that, now she would be able to experience a almost radical change of scenery and living conditions…

The Ralston family had traveled hundreds of miles from their back-country farm to select a suitable life-slave to join and serve them. They were not rich by any means, having had to save money for years in order to be able to afford buying a slavebitch like Tammy. And yes, the Ralstons did like Tammy, liked her a lot. Such a nice girl, such pretty hair, such a wonderful body….. Mama and Grandma Ralston thought of how slave Tammy would be able to help out on the homestead by doing the cooking, housecleaning, farm labor – and Tammy’s tongue would be used to satisfy their neglected pussies and assholes at night. Pa Ralston’s thoughts were mostly of how he would be able to ram Tammy’s holes whenever the urge prompted him – and he knew that those urges would be coming frequently…

“Yes, girl,” Ma Ralston breathed into slave Tammy’s ear along with a wet, appreciative tongue, “we’re gonna take such good care of you. And I know you’re gonna do your very best to take care of us, mmmmm? We know you are gonna enjoy your new life back at our place. It’s kinda run down, but you’ll be able to help tidy things up….”

While slave Tammy was only one girl and there was only so much that she could do, like any good slave, she did her best. Life on the Ralston homestead was somewhat difficult, but Tammy’s efforts did manage to win over the approval of her new owners. As country people, the Ralston clan appreciated hard work when they saw it and they never hesitated to reward it. A good girl like Tammy, they all decided, deserved to be spared the pangs of loneliness when not hard at work cleaning up the barn or helping haul firewood or fetching water from the well… Pa Ralston made it his duty to visit slave Tammy a couple times during the day; her available pussy was always snug around his cock and she never failed to move and rotate her hips in the way that Pa liked.

But Ma, Pa and Grandma Raltson also shared Tammy with Cousin Roy. Cousin Roy was the one who helped things greatly around the farm with his truck and strong arms. It was only fair that Ray also be allowed privileges with cute, compliant Tammy. And it was also a chance for Tammy to have special time with someone closer to her own age.

Cousin Roy Raltson wasn’t a greedy person; he didn’t push for more time with Tammy, he was a patient and understanding young man. He always waited until slave Tammy had attended to the needs of the elder relatives’ needs before dragging her into the spare bedroom in order to take what he wanted.

Roy liked fucking Tammy’s tight ass, enjoyed ramming his hard dick hard and deep. Tammy’s moans were so sweet to his ears…..

While some slaves like Tammy did travel far from the environs of Slave City to do their service for their new owners, others like slave Paula and slave Mildred, were slated to begin their new lives of servitude at locations only a few city blocks or so from the slave retail stalls from which they were purchased.

Madam Carla was an owner of a small but well-attended whorehouse situated on a trash-laden back street frequented by the lower strata of Slave City citizenry. But while Madam Carla might have catered to a sleazier clientele, that didn’t mean that she wasn’t dedicated to providing them with the best servicing from the mouths, asses and cunts of her small stable of slave-whores. Not many a customer stumbled from Carla’s establishment without having his semen drained from his balls by the holes of her obedient slaves. Their total satisfaction kept them coming back, leaving their hard-earned money and having no complaints about leaving it.

Slaves Mildred and Paula’s first hours of whorehouse work would be closely watched and supervised by Madam Carla to make sure that they displayed the proper positive attitude and learning abilities towards their new duties. The Madam had a sharp eye and was never hesitant to intervene in order correct a novice slave-whore; some of them would always need special instruction or guidance concerning their techniques or mental approach to the work that they were now obliged to do.

But the Madame was grudgingly pleased by how these two novices were performing. While slave Mildred was being approached by a customer who was telling her to bend over so he could push his dick up her ass, slave Paula was busy trying to stretch her mouth over and take in as much of an old black tramp’s big cock down her throat as possible…

“They look like they’re going to be good girls,” the Madame said to herself. “Good girls, indeed….”

Within the slave value system, virgin slaves were held to be the most sought-after. A true, verified virgin’s price could be two to three times the price of an non-virgin girl of equal looks and stature. There was quite a large waiting list (‘special order’) of well-heeled clients who were willing to pay the steeper price for the privilege of deflowering an innocent and previously – unfucked girl of 18 – 21. The slavers were constantly pressuring their contracted bounty hunters to find and bring in those legal-aged virgin damsels who were beautiful of face and firm of body. And although the hunters ranged far and wide in their searches, the retailers of Slave City were lucky to obtain more than a few such slavegirls each month.

Virgin slave-bitches not only served to fetch higher prices, they were also used as additional element to cement deals and political alliances. Many a corrupt official or law agent would demand that a virgin slavegirl be thrown in as an sweetener along with the usual wads of cash bribes. Although they needed the protection that the bribed officials provided them, the slavers were no fools and it was rare that they would consent to parting freely with such a prize. No, the slavers were hard bargainers: The official might be able to have a virgin – but only at a discounted price. After having to pay a bounty hunter up to twenty thousand dollars for a captured virgin, the usual bribery discount was one-half to one-third off the retail price.

Bonnie was the prize that closed the ‘protection’ deal between her slaver and the state’s highest-ranking law enforcement officer. After the arrangement (renewed for the third consecutive year) was agreed upon, slave Bonnie, a 20 year-old virgin daughter of a minister, was allowed to be purchased by the official for the 30% discounted price of $50,000.00 – a sum deducted from the sum being paid for the protection agreement covering the upcoming fiscal year.

Bonnie would go on be a big hit at the official’s secret sex parties. That’s after she had been so brutally and repeatedly stripped of her innocence in that small cell that he kept her in. He had enjoyed the many nights, the many sweat-filled hours he had spent fucking her in the most perverted manner, gradually transforming slave Bonnie into the whore that he knew she could be…

The slave stalls were filled with beautiful slave bitches who had so abruptly been snatched away form their previous lives. At the beginning of their incarceration, there were so many tales of woe, so many tearful entreaties for mercy or relief from the trembling lips of pretty novices unsure of what the future held for them. They shrank back as the slavers and potential owners squeezed and pinched their breasts and nipples, testing their firmness. They shrieked as the leather whips, crops and wooden paddles impacted their bodies in the first sessions of discipline and training…

But these slaves weren’t be honest, not really. They really wanted this; they just were not aware that they did. Under their veneers of innocence, they were all whores, were they not? Deep down, didn’t these bitches really yearn to exist without the responsibilities of choice and decision? Didn’t they really not want to have the honor of satisfying rather than being satisfied? Yes, they wanted this. They needed this….

And customers like Mrs. Lucile Feingold knew it.

Mrs. Feingold’s beauty queen looks had long faded – helped along by her hard-living ways and the always-handy alcohol and drugs that were a part of her globe trotting lifestyle. Her visit, along with her sister and indulgent husband Hank, was her fourth at the crowded slave stables of Beech Street Slavers within the year. Those other girls that she had chosen had worked out well, but for someone as jaded as Mrs. Feingold, the attractiveness of a slavegirl tended to wear off quickly after so many weeks of use. Having tired of that particular girl, she would find herself again cruising the slave stalls for someone new. Hubby Hank had no problems with this; his wife’s throw-offs made for good fun down in the special torture chamber that he kept stocked.

Mrs. Feingold knew how these slaves really were; she knew that deep down, these bitches really wanted to be of service to someone as famous and well-known as she. Like this slave bitch named Martha . Martha didn’t fool her with that woe-is-me face and sorrowful eyes, didn’t fool her at all. Mrs. Feingold knew that bitches like Martha pretended that they didn’t want to be treated like common whores – but they really did. They just wouldn’t admit it, that’s all…..

Mrs. Feingold’s face was hard while looking down into slave Martha’s wide eyes as the girl labored so earnestly at eating her experienced pussy. “Keep on, you little whore, keep on lapping away with that tongue of yours. Stop acting like this is new to you. You know that this is what you wanted to do as soon as I walked in here. Even before I bought your sorry ass. So keep at it. Show me what a nasty, naughty little pervert you really are….”

Yes, these slaves all wanted it; they wanted to be treated like pieces of meat. They just didn’t realize it, that’s all. But eventually their new owners would make them realize it. That’s why their Superiors used the hard and harsh whippings and beatings – to make these stubborn slave-bitches admit that this was the life that they were made for. To force them to acknowledge that they deserved to be owned and used. It was just unfortunate that their respective Masters and Mistresses were unable to help these slaves find their true inner selves without having to resort to intense physical punishment; but they had to do it. The average slave slut was always reluctant to admit that they were most happy when

seeing to the needs of their owners, whether it was taking His big cock up her ass or using a tongue to clean out Her rectum. So the slave might have cried out from the pain inflicted upon her by her Superior, but we all know that in some hidden recess of her mind, she knew that it was all for her own good.

“Uhhhhhh…please! Not again! It hurts…!” Newly – purchased slave Cindy pleaded as Master Herb forced his eager cock into her sore pussy for the third time that night. “Nooooooo…..owwwww…!”

But Master Herb knew that Cindy really didn’t want him to stop. She might have thought that she did, but Herb knew that deep inside, she really wanted him to fuck her, use her, humiliate her again and again. And Herb, being the considerate, caring Master that he was, intended to show his new slavegirl the joys that came with recognizing her true submissive nature. “Shut the fuck up, bitch. You want me to put the belt to you again? Do you?”

Cindy immediately quieted. Only soft sobs now as she obediently arched her hips up to meet the full force of Master Herb’s slamming thrusts.

“See, I knew you liked it,” Herb grunted in her ear as his dick attacked her cunt harder, shaking her body. Yeah, he knew that Cindy loved it. They all did….

one of the more unique services available in Slave City was offered up by a secretive society of urban witches called the Sisters of Wraith. No one really knew just how many members the group had, but it was rumored to number in the hundreds and that some of the country’s most powerful women were included in its rolls. Whatever the reason, this society had existed for a century and showed signs of expanding it’s reach into all areas of the nation. But here in Slave City, it’s main outlet to the outside world consisted of it’s slave re-sale and slave disposal services. The disposal of slavegirls was an especially – needed service; how did one safely and conveniently rid one’s self of a slave when one wanted to replace her or if she was no longer desirable to keep, either for reasons of finance or her not living up to expectations. The authorities tended to react badly to finding bodies of slaves randomly dumped in the countryside or floating in rivers, so some safe method of getting rid of used slaves was solely needed. Hence the Sisters of Wraith, who paid a slight price for your slavegirl and took all responsibility off your hands.

The Sisters of Wraith believed that their witches would gain the life forces of the slaves that they tortured and finally put to death, that in the moment of a slave’s most intense agonies, that slave emitted a part of their essence that could be absorbed by whatever witch-bitch who had inflicted all the pain and torment. An even more powerful life-energy could be yielded up by the slave in her last moments of life – her very soul draining from her dying body and absorbed by her Wraith. No one could attest to the accuracy of these beliefs, of course, but it was a fact that members of the society seemed to enjoy a robust health and most appeared to look at least a decade younger than their actual ages.

Although the Wraiths advertised a ‘re-sale’ service, no one could ever recall any such transactions. Maybe they did do some re-sales of their slaves, but so far it seemed a case of whatever slaves were taken in by the Wraiths never left alive….

Manuela and her husband had enjoyed the past six months of the pleasures that slave Joyce had provided them. Such an obedient and sincere slave. It was not a matter of their being displease with slave Joyce; it was only that both Manuela and her beau were tired of her and intended to replace her with new meat. So it was convenient for Manuela to have the Sisters of Wraith to take her slave off her hands – and also make a little cash in the process. Manuela was disappointed in the small price she got, but it was a case of being able to rid herself of the slave and moving on….

“See how good this puta licks your pussy,” Manuela told the Wraith with whom she bargained. ” I tell you, she’s got a tongue that will make all of you quiver throughout the night! She’s well worth over three hundred dollars! How about two for her?”

The Wraith representative chuckled as she felt the slave’s wet and earnest tongue on her clit. ” Oh, all the slaves get to be very good at eating cunt here – they have to. No big deal. But two hundred’s a good price……”

The day’s new purchases were reviewed at the end of each day. It was then time for the somewhat involved process of deciding which slave would be given to what witch to serve out her last days. The Wraiths had a fair system to determine all this: It was a simple case of the next Wraith Witch on the list. That way, conflicts and any possible accusations of favoritism were neatly avoided – and besides, the steady volume of incoming slaves was such that any witch who wanted it could have a fresh slavegirl to do with as she wished in the usual timeframe of every two weeks. Wraith Charlotte was the witch who usually oversaw the list of assignments. After spending an hour or so directing the usual get-acquainted sex-and-punishment sessions, she was ready to get on with her duties. Although it would be easy to just randomly give any slave to any witch, Charlotte was one who exercised a diligence that made her very popular for her position as assignor. For instance, the new slave Beth had the willowy, lithe stature that would especially appeal to Wraith Eunice while the crying, trembling slave Maria had the short hair and more sturdy physique that would appeal to the old witch called Theresa. Both Theresa and Eunice were next on the list for assignments and each would surely enjoy their time with their newest victims and exact every last ounce of pleasure and life-force that could be had from them.

“Sister Ann, would you please summon Sisters Eunice and Theresa in from the Waiting Room? Tell them that their new girls are ready and so eager to serve them. Tell them that we can attest to these sweet bitches’ cunt-eating abilities and that both show great promise.”

The first few minutes of meeting her assigned Wraith Witch was usually a shocking experience for a new slave-victim.

There was always something a bit unnerving about the eyes and manner of the Wraith and the way in which the Wraith examined her body and probed her holes with ruthless and rude fingers. Although the slavegirl usually had no idea of the purpose of the Society, it soon became clear that something here was very usual and very wrong. Perhaps it was the distant and muffled screams and pleadings that somehow managed to escape from all those closed doors down that wide, dank hallway. Full-throated screams that were more intense that any screams that the slaves had emitted throughout all their term of slavery to their former owners. Perhaps it was the faint, pungent odor that somehow managed to defy all the applications of disinfectants and cleaning agents. Whatever the reasons, the new slaves’ depression and apprehensions were almost always rapidly replaced by a dreadful fear previously unknown to them.

It was only 15 minutes into her first meeting with her assigned Wraith, Marbela – but slave Rhonda was already in a state of dread. Her pretty face had already been reddened and bloodied by the powerful series of slaps from Marbela’s hand. “This is to get our relationship off the proper start,” Marbela had stated. ” This is to let you know that you will experience so many different things in the time we will spend together.”

Marbela’s mate, Sonia was there also. Tall, with those frightful and deranged eyes. ” You will service Sonia as well as you service me,” Marbela instructed. ” We do everything together…”

“Now, slave, give your newest and final owners kisses from your sweet mouth. Open wide, girl, and give our tongues your greetings….” Rhonda’s eyes teared even more as she did her best to answer her owners’ probing and aggressive tongues with her own.

In the dungeon room designated as No. 4, the exchange of life forces was strong. After three days of the most delicious torture of her assigned sacrificial slave, the fat witch known only as ‘Big Emma’ had decided that it was finally time for her to take everything that the slave had left to offer her. Holding the sword that she had inherited from her 200 year-old Wraith mother, Big Emma had positioned her slave on the concrete floor. The eons-old chants that Big Emma had uttered lasted only a few minutes and then it was time for the strong-armed swing of the sharp sword. It took two blows to completely sever the slave’s pretty head, but it was so much worth it as Big Emma’s rounded body quivered wildly as her victim’s last bit of soul-energy rushed out and was captured.

“Uggggghhhhhh….Ohhhhhhh….” Big Emma’s voice was guttural and throaty as she threw back her head, accepting the gift of the slave’s tortured soul flooding into her. The other witches in the room all turned to watch as Big Emma’s eyes bulged and her big body shook in a minutes-long orgasm….

But over in the another corner of the room, a new voice joined in the chorus as the slave named Dianna screamed at the top of her lungs as Wraith Lucida began to slowly, every so slowly, cut out one of her eyes with that dull knife….

“Noooooo! NOOOoooo! Oh, God!” The slave’s screams intensified as the Witch Lucida knife dug into her eye.

Lucida thrilled at the energy that was being generated by the slave’s terror and excruciation began to flow into her own body. ” Oh, yes, my girl. Such pretty blue eyes you have. I must have them both for my collection, my darling. Give them to me….”

“Godddd! Help me! Aaaiiiieeeee….!”

“Mmmm…here it comes. Just a little more and then we’ll stop the bleeding before we move on to the other one, okay?”

There were some very ironic and poignant moments that occurred over the years at the Sisters of Wraith compound. Life tends to sometimes offer revenge against those who flaunt their own petty cruelties towards others, being crueler than those offenders could ever imagine. So it was with slave Harriet, that former college cheerleader who had finally began to bore her slave-owner and then had been sold to the Wraiths for the sum of one hundred dollars.

It was so ironic that she had been assigned to the young Wraith Witch named Beanice. Beanice, who had gone to high school with Harriet. The Beanice whom Harriet and her friends had nicknamed “Goofy Face” and had endured their taunts and bullying throughout those school years. Beanice, who had never complained about her treatment. Beanice, who had never forgot.

“Oh, I remember you,” the astonished Beanice had exclaimed. “I remember you so well! And here you are! All those incantations that I’ve uttered over all the years – and I had come to believe that nothing would come of them. But here you are! Yes, you do remember me, I can tell from the look on your face. Well, I just want you to know that I hold no grudges against you now – but I’m so happy to be the one to help you atone for your bad behavior toward those less fortunate than you. I’m not like the other witches here; I don’t get off from causing needless suffering. No, my pretty Harriet – I get my life-energy jolts in the course of doing a good deed. As you can probably see, I’ve been a nurse for some time, serving down in the most neglected inner-city areas. I specialize in finding badly-needed organs for transplanting into very poor and very needy patients in my hospital….”

Slave Harriet’s eyes widened and her complexion paled as she began to realize the implications of Beanice’s words.

And Beanice laughed softly as she saw the look on Harriet’s face. ” Yes, Harriet, my patients need a steady supply of fresh organs to keep them alive. The fresher the better…..”

Beanice’s face practically beamed from behind her large glasses as she began to pull on a surgical glove. ” I don’t mind all the blood, you understand,” she told her terrified victim. ” But a lady just has to protect her nails, don’t you agree? Now, I can see that you’re going to be a good organ donor. I hope you don’t get upset just because I don’t have anything to give you for the pain while I’m working on you. Don’t worry, I won’t mind if you carry on a bit as I operate.

“First I’ll remove your kidney, then your liver – got a rush order on those, okay? After that, it’ll just be us having fun as I cut you open and explore around inside you for a bit before you finally die on me. Hope you don’t mind if I cut out your heart and take it home. I have an idea of making the most wonderful broth….”

A sacrificial slave’s anticipation of her own horrible death is such a powerful thing. The energy that is generated has more force than the finest aphrodisiac to a Wraith Witch. So it was with the Witch Eunice as she soaked in the panicked terror given off by the newest slave, Beth, as the terrified girl cowered in the corner of the small execution room.

“Oh, please! No! Please! I don’t want to die! Please don’t kill me!”

Eunice’s old pussy was beginning to leak its juices as her victims’ anguished cries grew more and more pitiful. The slave had spent the previous night thrilling Eunice’s pussy and asshole with her tongue, had did everything in the hopes of being spared. So much energy for Eunice to soak in, to absorb…..

“There, there, my child. Don’t be so negative after all the good times you’ve given me. My daughter Nina here is so good with her little ax. See how cleanly your friend’s neck was chopped yesterday? That’s how she’s going to do yours. Come here, my young darling. Come into my arms so I can give you the last kisses that you will have in life. Don’t fight it, sweetie. Give me your soul and your pretty head. All my friends will forever remember and appreciate your beauty when they visit my home and see your head mounted with all the others on my wall…..

“Yes, dear. That’s the way. Let me embrace you. Mmmmmmm….. Now accept my tongue and my spit down your pretty throat…….. Such a pretty throat…”

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When the corrupt government of the Caribbean island of San Dominos finally fell, it fell hard and fast. Most of the ruling elite class had hastily packed their bags of ill-gotten wealth, made their bank transfers and climbed aboard every available departing plane; the military and police had either run for their lives or transferred their loyalties to the rampaging mobs and joined in the looting and bloodletting.

The former regime’s Western backers were scrambling to disassociate themselves from the now-apparent records of their former client’s systemic program of killings, rigged courts and other human rights abuses.

Any talk of sending in peacekeeping troops was, for the moment, thoroughly out of the question. That meant that those elites who had been unable to escape the country were now at the mercy of an enraged and impoverished populace that was intent on extracting it’s overdue revenge.

But the Island’s former upper crust was not the only group to suffer from the effects of this upheaval. Also caught up in the chaos and carnage of the moment was the large number of tourists who had been guests of San Dominos’ many posh hotels and resorts. Chased from their burning hotels, fleeing blindly through the streets, they were easy targets for those bloodthirsty islanders who hunted them down.

Mira, Harriet and their father had escaped their burning posh resort suite just ahead of a mob. Their father had pushed them into a rental car and had driven wildly through the frenzied streets – only to become lost and ending up right in the midst of one of the island’s worst slums.

Needless to say, they were soon stopped and surrounded by a gang of thugs who promptly shot the father dead and dragged his two terrified daughters into an alley .

There, Harriet and Mira became yet another pair of Western girls who fell victim to the strong cock abuse from their Island hosts.

In the distance, there was the constant noise of explosions and guns. But here in this slum alley, there was only the quiet and hopeless sobbing from Harriet as the thug named Mingo rocked her sore body back and forth with his powerful fucking. And the equally soft sobbing from Mira as she was forced to watch her older sister obediently buck her hips up to meet Mingo’s thrusts.

Then there was a louder noise – as Mingo let out a loud “Uhhhhhh..!” And this explosion was from Mingo’s big dick as it slammed hard in Harriet’s pussy and spurted a thick cum load deep within her, mixing with the semen of the eight previous guys who had their turn…

In another section of the slum, Diaz and his main woman, Edwina had plucked another fleeing female tourist off the street as she sought to escape an oncoming mob. Peggy had thought herself to be fortunate when the black couple had pulled her into their derelict shack just in time for her to escape her pursuers. Even though, at first glance, Diaz appeared somewhat dangerous-looking and Edwina had a menacing presence, Peggy had thanked them profusely for their help.

But there was no need for her to thank them, as it soon became apparent – because her hosts had their own ideas and plans for exactly how Peggy would repay them. Of course, Peggy had objected at first, but Edwina had used her belt strongly and to good effect for a half hour; after that, there was resistance from Peggy to whatever the couple might have in mind.

Elsewhere, things were not going well for the captured daughter of an former landowner. Her class pride had compelled her to refuse to willingly part her legs in order to keep her abductors happy. So they had taken it upon themselves to spread her legs for her and after being forced to accommodate the cocks of over twenty men, she had been taken to a tall and sturdy tree in order to provide one last bit of entertainment as she kicked frantically as the end of a rope.

But not all was chaotic on San Dominos. In certain criminal quarters of the island, some had realized that the current unsettled state of things also presented for good business opportunities.

The surplus of stranded young and attractive Western female tourists along with those captured females from the former island elite was a natural supply for those who might wish to indulge in White Slavery.

A ruthless alliance of pimps. madams, former policemen, street thugs and other common criminals was hastily assembled with the purpose of acquiring as many of the available female captives as possible for auctioning off to the highest bidders.

There would be no problem in finding prospective buyers – as a parade of enthusiastic responses from varied interested individuals and other criminal organizations from the South American mainland soon confirmed.

The honor of being the first captive to be chosen for the Auction was 19 year-old Angela. Angela had been visiting friends on the island when the revolution had come so suddenly. Grabbed on her way to the airport, Angela was now meeting a group of people who all wanted to be her new ‘friend’.

Word quickly spread throughout the Island that a nice amount of cash would be paid for attractive Western or Elitist females. Some of those who had such ladies in their possession were thoroughly enjoying themselves; having a pretty sex slave for one’s personal use was very enjoyable, indeed. But it didn’t help to buy food or gas or water, especially with how the recent chaos had made those things even harder to obtain than before.

So it was not a difficult decision for Fanita to order her son, Juan to trade the ready, wonderful sex that he enjoyed from his captive Katrina for a fistful of hard cash. Fanita had to admit that she had started to enjoy having the girl’s labor for cooking and cleaning their dusty shack – and also Katrina’s compliant pussy and asshole-eating whenever Juan was away.

The first Auction would be in the morning, and to there was only fear and despair in Ineza as she found herself awaiting an unknown fate in this dark, musty room in which she would stay until called out in order to climb up onto that small stage to be bid on like a piece of meat.

The worst thing about her being here right now is that she was betrayed and brought here by a person that she had thoroughly trusted. The older black woman named Henrietta had been her personal maid since Ineza was an infant. Of course, Ineza had been difficult at times – and perhaps somewhat tactless with Henrietta over the years, but the maid had never shown the slightest bit of resentment or peeve at any of her young Senorita’s actions. After all, hadn’t Henrietta always been given the best leftovers from the family meals? And wasn’t she always the first one to be given the pick of any cast-off clothes? Henrietta had always been a smiling and reassuring presence around Ineza and her wealthy family.

Henrietta had promised to take her to a secret location where she would arrange for a boat to spirit the both of them safely from San Dominos and to freedom. And so Ineza was shocked speechless when Henrietta ushered her into a derelict house at the edge of the city – and right into the custody of the organization that was in charge of the White Slave Auction scheme.

“Here she is,” Henrietta had said as she shoved a surprised Ineza into the arms of one of the strange men who awaited them in the main room. “This is the puta that I told you about. I know this one well, so I tell you that it’s best that someone start using a belt on her right away. She’s soft and spoiled nineteen years and after you show her who’s boss, she won’t give you any trouble.” And they had promptly followed the old maid’s advice.

And now, as Ineza continued to cry and pray, Henrietta surprised her again by entering the room.

“I just came to witness your pain. And do you know that my son is the head of this operation? Yes, I’m so proud of him! But what I’m really going to enjoy is watching you get sold tomorrow. I’m going to laugh as your new Master drags you away. You’ll scream and cry, I know you will. It will give me so much pleasure to see it all……”

“……..and speaking of pleasure, there is another pleasure that you will give me tonight – and if you even hesitate or give me the slightest bit of trouble, my son has instructed his men to come in here and gouge your eyes out!”

Henrietta let out a soft groan as she pressed Ineza against the wall and explored her white pussy with her fingers.

“Still got a tight cunt on you, well isn’t that a surprise! Well, I’m sure that they’ll soon have it stretched wide as hell after they put you to work. …”

The island’s religious establishment had always supported the former ruling elite; so when the elites fled the place, the religious leaders left with them. The Church’s lower ranking administers and it’s many regular nuns, however, were left behind to face the full wrath of the vengeful populace. The thugs and slavers were especially interested in the stranded younger nuns and apprentice nuns – both in terms of the use of their innocent bodies and in the certain higher selling prices that they would get for them from the slave auctioneers. So a raid on the island’s nunnery was soon in coming. The raiders were forceful and brash as they broke down the nunnery’s doors and streamed inside, grabbing every pretty nun that they came upon.

Needless to say, it was a trying time for the young nuns as they were stripped of their modesty and forcefully introduced to one hard cock after another. The nunnery interior was filled with the cries and screams of the nuns as their tender and previously unused pussies and assholes were filled and stretched by big, rock-hard black and brown dick shafts. “Damn, these bitches make you cum real fast with those tight cunts squeezing your cock like they do,” observed one horny thug as he prepared to mount his third nun.

The tall German apprentice nun’s name was Hilda and her strong, lithe frame was beginning to get bruised from the rough treatment from the first six men who raped her. But her pussy was even more bruised and sore – and no even all that semen that filled it was enough to lessen the sharp pain that racked her body from the huge dark cocks that rammed against her now-raw cunt walls.

“Please, please! Stop! I am so sore! I think I’m bleeding,” Hilda begged her captors in a plaintive voice. ” I don’t think that I can take any more!”

But big, black Eduardo’s turn was next and he wasn’t about to let Hilda dissuade him from his pleasure. One slap from his big hand sent her to the floor.

“Shut up, puta! You white girls are always complaining about something!” He grabbed Hilda and dragged her over to a bed in the corner. “Now bend over and stick that ass up! Now!”

Hilda cried as she bent obeyed and bent over. She heard the rustle of Eduardo’s pants falling to the floor and then felt a further panic as she felt a pressure against her asshole and realized just what he intended to do.

“Goddamn complaining’ foreign puta! You don’t want me in that cunt of yours. Well, okay………”

Eduardo was horny and his balls were full of cum and he needed his pleasure Now. Hilda let out a long, high-pitched scream as he rudely forced the big, bulbous head of his cock into her twitching rectum and then slammed all of his 11 inches inside until his heavy balls flapped against her butt cheeks.

“MMMmmmmmm….So warm……So tight…”

“Yyyyiiiiii..! Aaaiiieeeeee…..!”

Eduardo had really enjoyed himself in the time that he had spent with his friends at the nunnery. Two days and nights of fucking all those cringing white do-gooder cunts and asses would have left most men totally spent and drained – but not Eduardo. Within a few hours after leaving the nunnery, his big cock was twitching and his testicles were hanging heavy with more cum. Eduardo needed more pussy. But there wouldn’t be a problem now – because he had dragged a cute 19-year apprentice nun out with him. She would be kept at his shack solely for his own use. A little swiftly administered abuse taught her about the proper attitude that was expected of her, so now she was ready for her first lesson on how to please her new Master.

And she immediately showed what a natural little slavecunt she was going to be. Her nun’s training had emphasized submission, worship and service and now she was on her knees, worshiping Eduardo’s black cock with her captive mouth. Holding its weight in her hands. Feeling it harden and seeing it begin to swell to its monstrous size as she obediently licked its length with her wet tongue.

By the fourth day, all the former nuns had been distributed throughout San Dominos, often being traded and bartered for just like any other – very popular – commodity.

A half-dozen or so of the captive nuns eventually ended up in brothel of Senora Guzman, who was always interested in procuring fresh female flesh. The Senora was a good enough judge of human nature to know instinctively that the prospect of being able to fuck a former nun -and a pretty one at that – would be yet another incentive for her clientele. The young nuns would join the dozen or so captured female tourists who were already earning big money. Senora Guzman had limited access to her first batch of white slaves to 10 hours a day in order that they not get used up too fast. She had decided that, after their training, the nuns would be available only 6 hours a day in order that the demand for them (and therefore, their rates) be kept high.

Nativa, a big, strong and somewhat hasty woman, was Guzman’s Brothel matron; her duties being the maintaining of order and discipline amongst the many hard-nosed regular whores who worked there. Her aggressive nature and her experience as a former interrogator of political prisoners made her the ideal choice to be the one who oversaw the mental and physical training of the newly arrived slaves. It was a task that Nativa took seriously and also enjoyed. The nun slaves, Keira and Sasha, soon learned of Nativa’s way of doing things upon their being delivered to the brothel. Both were immediately confronted by the large Nativa, who shoved each of them unceremoniously into a small, barred wooden cage.

Laughing as she put them into their respective cramped enclosures, she shook them up even further by telling them in advance that she intended to regularly brutalize each one of them until she was sure of their total mental readjustment into submission and subservience.

Life was almost unbearable for Keira. First there had been the days and nights of brutal rape in the nunnery and now it had been three nights of pain and agony at the hands of Nativa. Nativa’s whip. Nativa’s paddle. Nativa’s big hands slapping her face. Native’s big fist stretching her ass.

And the knowledge that eventually she would also soon be a whore, servicing hordes of crude, unwashed men. A whore.

A whore just like the skinny whore called Rauncha who had come each day to take Keira from her cage. Rauncha, who had threatened to inform Nativa if Keira ever refused a request to eat Rauncha’s smelly pussy. Rauncha, who had also invited the other whores in so that Keira could lick their pussies as well….

Even though holding a slave auction was very serious business, that didn’t prevent the auctioneers from exhibiting a bit of home-spun humor concerning the subject. Indeed, one former English tourist named Janice served as a literal exhibition herself as she was placed out front of the auction house as a rather fetching and attention-getting business display. No guessing would be needed as to what was going on inside. Furthermore, Janice turned out to be a profitable display, bringing in twice the minimum bidding price that was placed on her.

The auctioneers preferred to keep things on a low-keyed basis rather than to hold their slave sales on a large scale. They limited the auction sessions to accommodating no more than a half-dozen bidders at a time. That made for a more intimate and relaxing business atmosphere in which the buyers could get close and inspect the merchandise at their leisure. The sellers knew that a buyer who had carefully considered his purchase would more likely to be satisfied with his choice later on – making it less likely that he or she would have second thoughts and perhaps make a fuss sometime later.

The first-scheduled auction session of the day was attended by Senores Mata and Manual, appointed as buyers for the Mexican organizations and Senoras Elaina and Dias, representing a myriad of Columbia-based operations. All of them were experienced appraisers of the flesh. But the auctioneer soon sensed that the Mexicans had been sent with instructions to buy cautiously and to limit themselves within a specified budget, whereas the Columbians had obviously been given a wide latitude in terms of the range and price of the products.

Right now, it was the novice nun Gina who was on the block. Senor Mata had hesitantly made a bid of two thousand dollars, stating that “She isn’t really as pretty as most of the others; kinda plain-looking…” But Senora Elaina had gently tapped Dias, indicating that she thought that they should bid up on Gina for themselves.

Of course, even though this was strictly business, some of the buyers couldn’t resist taking the opportunity to test the merchandise right after they had bought it. Such a waste to not see exactly what a pretty slave’s mouth or pussy could do. And this was actually something that could be considered as absolutely necessary by a buyer – to see just what the slave needed in terms of training and instruction.

Lynda and Beatrice, for instance, seemed to show a distinct ability to learn fast when their buyers put them on their knees in order that they had the chance to show what they would do and could do when presented with their superiors’ cocks in front of their faces. And they both exhibited a genuine desire to serve (and avoid punishment) by their obedient following of orders and instructions in the art of sucking cock. It was apparent that they both needed a lot more experience and guidance, but they managed to please their Masters with their efforts,

Meanwhile, in other parts of San Dominos, the interaction between the white slaves and their various captors was beginning to evolve into a more settled phase. The chaos was less, now. Now the ownerships and the enslavements were being refined; the Masters and Mistresses were laying down the rules and expectations of what pleasures were due them; the white slavegirls were beginning to realize and more fully accept their situation – hoping, of course, that they would eventually be rescued from this terrible fate, but also knowing that they had no choice other than to completely submit and serve in order to stay alive. Throughout the island, there were the constant sights and sounds coming from inside derelict shacks and shanties; sounds of female holes being used hard and frequent; the slapping of sweating balls against spread thighs and offered buttocks, of hopeless moans and selfish groans….

And there were also the case of the many small neighborhood whorehouses, often no more than a small, two-room shanty. The island whores who worked these rather run-down fuck-rooms had at first resented how their businesses had been so adversely affected by the influx and oversupply brought on by all those new white slave-pussies that seemed to be occupying some many local cocks.

Predictably, business had plunged ; their usual customers had been using all that free foreign pussy. But the local whores were adaptive and some of them seized upon the idea of staffing their little cathouses with some of these new white cunts; after all, it was easy to acquire them through trading for drugs and with pooled monies from the whores. It worked well; now the whores had become pimps and madams as they charged a horny clientele the equivalent of five cents for ten minutes of fucking the white slaves.

Of course, the customers were a rougher sort and they tended to use the slaves that way. But the whores did intervene as best they could in order to keep the white girls from being hurt so much that they would be unable to keep earning money. And in keeping with the more casual island lifestyle, the whores showed their consideration by taking the unusual step of closing down operations on Sundays.

Sundays would be the day for the slaves to get a chance to recover (somewhat) from all the fucking and sucking of all those smelly, brutal and demanding men. Sunday was the day for showing their island whore-Mistresses their appreciation by eating and sucking on their black and brown pussies and anuses. All day.

The two white 18 year-old twins from North American had become good money-earners for the whore Earnesta and her partners, Yvette and Tigi. And on their day off, they continued to endear themselves to their Mistresses by spending at least part of each hour using their submissive mouths and tongues to provide the pleasure that was needed and demanded so much.

Earnesta, ever the bitch that she was, had taken to teaching one twin a unique way to demonstrate her complete compliance in the drinking of Earnesta’s golden showers. Earnesta had trained the twin to keep her mouth firmly against Earnesta’s black pussy and swallow the pee directly. Earnesta loved how the girl had to learn to leave her throat wide open in order to be able to gulp every drop of the river of piss without letting any drip out. There was a bad whipping in store if any of Earnesta’s precious urine was wasted.

On San Dominos, there were so many tourist ladies to be used. And some many Islanders to use them. There was very little to do there except fuck; so little else to enjoy besides sex. The days and nights would be hot and humid, the society in shambles and the future uncertain.

So perhaps the white slaves served an even bigger purpose; the opportunity for the Islanders to temporarily escape all the emotional turmoil by being escape into a world of unrestrained, physical pleasure.

Pleasure like that provided by Claudette. A week ago, Claudette, a college junior, had arrived on San Dominos to experience a pampered stay at one of the most exclusive and upscale resorts – a trip arranged and paid for by her well-off parents. Now Claudette was striving to properly pamper the huge cock of a beach thug called Bamboo, making it wet and hard with her mouth as she had been taught. She did not know where on the island she was,just that this shack was small, smelly and had one rather soiled mattress. A thin mattress on which she tended to whimper as she was constantly fucked by a dick that hurt……

Marguerita had made good use of the Gringa slave that she had captured on the beach during the frantic early hours of the revolution. Once proud and very spoiled, this girl previously called “Carol” was now a very tamed and compliant little bitch re-named “Puticia”. Puticia’s former background as a very promising young corporate lawyer was now a distance memory, beaten from her over the three weeks of Marguerita’s almost non-stop abuse and forced sex with Marguerita and her large litany of male friends and customers. Puticia now exhibited absolutely no pride and self – esteem, only a desire to avoid the severe pain punishment that would surely come at even the slightest hesitation or hint of individualism or self-will.

Puticia had earned her Mistress a good wad of money in these troubled times: so much so that Marguerita now could afford to leave this Island and even invest in a nice little brothel operation somewhere on the South American mainland. The Mistress had learned of the good prices being paid for Western girls down at the old and now-deserted women’s prison and had seen the chance to add yet another profit from Puticia’s captive body and soul. She knew that the more broken and obedient an attractive young blond Gringa was, the better the money that she would bring. So for a few days before being taken to the prison for purchasing, Puticia was put through an intensive refresher course in the art of total submission.

Puticia had done so much and had pleased so much during this course. And in the end, Marguerita smiled as she had her little bitch perform one last chore for her. Marguerita’s neighborhood brothel owner had been complaining lately about how filthy his ungrateful and uncouth customers had been leaving his new toilet commode after using it and how unpleasant it was to constantly cleaning it.

So as a favor, the Mistress had her slavegirl do the honors – with her now-educated little tongue.

At the former prison, Puticia did sell as quickly as Marguerita had hoped. And the price that she brought made her Mistress very happy. The buyers who represented the varied South American interests were experienced in spotting good slave stock; Puticia’s new nature made her a guaranteed pleaser for those who would first meet and appraise her when she was shipped to her destination. The buyers had been so impressed with Mistress Marguerita’s work, in fact, that they had inquired as to whether she might be interested in handling all the indoctrination and training of the organizations’ newly-acquired slaves. It was an offer that she would consider carefully.

Puticia’s stay at the prison location would be for four days and nights; when the organizations’ next ship was scheduled to dock and take on it’s latest human cargo. In that time, her purchasers made sure that they acquainted themselves with her mouth, pussy and ass. Her good looks and compliant manner ensured that she got as much attention as she could handle – in fact, even more attention than she could handle. Puticia had been locked in a cell with Marcita, one of the older daughters of a ranking elite island family. Together, they found themselves destined to entertain the dozen or so brown hard cocks that sought the tight warmth of their holes……

The other blond slaves awaiting transport were also being giving a lot of attention. Unfortunately, they hadn’t had such a thorough training program as Puticia, so the buyers frequently were forced to apply attitude-correction measure of their own. They weren’t experts, of course, but they knew enough about what works. Their methods were rather amateurish, but it was enough to get the point across that defiance and insolence would always result in unpleasant consequences. These captives soon came to prefer taking on even the most roughest and brutal of cocks rather than enduring the agonies of the whip, belt or rope. A more effective training awaited them when they arrived on the Mainland – but here and now, this abuse was enough to put them in line….

Barbi pleasured Manuel one last time just as the dawn arrived and he would leave to get some much-needed sleep before reassuming his duties. But there would be little additional rest for Barbi; the other men would be constantly visiting her in her cell in order to give her the chance to demonstrate just how much her outlook had improved. But before leaving her, Manuel just had to empty his balls of the little cum that he had left. Barbi took care of that with her dutiful mouth, sucking him off to a noisy orgasm. And Manuel, a man who did not believe in waste, let Barbi slurp and lick off the very last vestiges of semen that he could jack out of his now-exhausted shaft.

“You’re going to make a real nice whore,” Manuel said as Barbi swallowed the last of his salty cum. ” If you keep on trying to please us here, it’s going to be easier for you when you get to where you’re going. Now my buddies are going to be coming in to have a go at you during the day. I’ll be back to spend the night – and it will be very bad for you if I hear that you’ve failed to please any of them in any way, understand? Tell me that you understand.”

And Barbi did understand and told him so.

She would go on to do her best to give all of them what they wanted and demanded from her. Throughout the day, she would give it up, give all that she could, in the way that they liked it. And Manuel did return to spend the night again, his cock as hard as ever and his balls hanging low with another fresh load of cum. But he would not being ramming her cunt tonight. Tonight Manuel would concentrate on seeing how much Barbi’s still-tight anus could take…..

There were many other stories also being played out at this former women’s’ prison as the captives, bought and sold, awaited the next part of their journey into slavery. Most of them were in an almost catatonic mental state; mindlessly following orders; trying to adjust to the pain and abuse from their keepers; not even daring to think about what fate might eventually be in store for them. They numbly opened their holes for use from their group of overseers, dully obeying whatever demands were put to them.

The slaves’ compliance bode well for the buyers and their assistants. Their criminal bosses would most likely demonstrate their appreciation by awarding large bonuses and would probably ask them to stay on at their jobs as long as there were more females available for purchase and shipping. It was quite an enjoyable assignment in almost every way. It was a chance to indulge themselves sexually and to be able to act out many of their sadistic impulses.

Evelyn Meyer’s crying and wails of despair were to no avail as Ricardo began to tear off her tattered dress while steering her towards the stairway that led down to the prison’s basement-level cellblock. Her plaintive distress only served to excite Ricardo even more and cause his cock to strain against his pants. Evelyn’s screaming and pleas for mercy were not due to the prospect of her being forced down into one of those small, cramped cell where she would be first stripped naked and fucked by the increasingly horny Ricardo. The cause of her desperate shrieking was the scene taking place before them. Her two daughters, nineteen year-old Amy and eighteen year – old Rhonda, were now being introduced to Senor Garcia. Garcia and his girlfriend Vincenta had just arrived on the tramp steamer leased by the organizations to carry this latest batch of slave flesh back to the Mainland. Senor Garcia’s job was to carry out a final inspection of these new slavecunts and see to it that everything ran smoothly.

Just an hour before Garcia’s arrival at the prison, the Meyer family’s original captor had brought them in and offered them all for possible purchase. The buyers liked Rhonda and Amy’s innocent looks and their petite, yet shapely bodies and immediately offered a nice price for them, but they were not interested in their mother; too old and not pretty enough. But their captor had said, ‘ The hell with her. I’m tired of fucking her and my place is a bit small. Tell ya what, you take her off my hands and you can have her for free.” Ricardo had volunteered to take custody of Evelyn. After all, he had commented, pussy is pussy. And besides that, she would make a convenient pain slave in times of boredom.

Senor Garcia had witnessed and approved this last – minute purchase. “Bring them over there and put them on their knees so that they can both show me that they are worthy of the money that we have just spent on them. And Evelyn had been forced to watch as her two daughters, knowing that any refusal would bring on very severe punishment, knelt before Garcia and took turns sucking on his ample cock until it began to pulse out a thick stream of white cum – which they both shared.

Being inducted into service in one of the San Dominos brothels or whorehouses was a rather programmed process for a new white slavegirl. One thing that had to be immediately impressed upon her was not only her duties concerning the pleasuring of the establishment’s many paying customers, but also showing her her place in the order of things. A girl had to be shown, and shown in no uncertain terms, that she had no rights and no choice in any matters whatsoever. Even the ugliest and lowest of the regular whores was her Mistress and even the janitor who cleaned the toilets was her Master. Her duty was to do as she was told and to do it without question; whether that meant licking a customer’s cum off the floor or licking dirt from the soles of another whore’s feet.

Although almost all the incoming slaves had been broken and trained before being arriving to work at the brothel, it was considered an established procedure to put her in her place as soon as she stepped foot in her new place of service. Today poor Sophie, a French girl fresh from the auction block, was meet just inside the entrance of the ‘Tia-Mia’ brothel by Estaban, the establishment’s manager-bouncer. Estaban grabbed Sophie and slammed her against the wall.

“Put your hands against the walll, bitch,” Estaban commanded. “And stick that ass out for me and keep it out!”

And as Sophie tearfully braced herself as instructed, the burly Estaban let down his pants and stepped up behind her, his cock swollen and rigid. Roughly, he grasped Sophie from behind, holding her tightly as he found the door to her little anus with the tip of his cockhead. Sophie let out a faint whimper as Estaban brutally began forcing his dick up her ass.

“You’re mine, you spoiled cunt. This is all you’re good for.” Estaban was a real fuck-man; plenty soon he was slamming the slave with his full weight behind that shaft of his. Now Sophie could not keep from groaning loudly as the man’s big balls were now slapping against her buttocks.

“I know you love it, girl. You love the hurt, don’t you? You dirty, worthless, low-down bitch…..”

The female brothel operators were no less firm or severe when ‘ welcoming ‘ a new slave into the household. Senora Phata had personally overseen the selection and purchase of 20 year-old Robin as a special ‘added attraction’ to her whorehouse. She liked the blond slave’s slim, good looks and slight hint of a haughty background that would be a sure attraction to the establishment’s blue-collar clientele, making them want to pay a higher rate to fuck her.

Senora Phata was a big, rough woman who tolerated no defiance of any sort and she made sure that Sophie promptly got the message in a swift and no-nonsense manner. The Senora’s first blow was a hard slap; her second was a expertly applied punch to Sophie’s stomach. That was followed by a intense pounding that left Sophie begging for mercy and pledging her total slave loyalty to her new Mistress.

“Mmmm, my sweet little girl,” purred the Senora. “Now let’s celebrate your devotion to me and my place, hmm? Here, my nipples are so swollen from thinking of what we are going to do together tonight. Come, darling, suck on my tits for a while and then, if you do a good job on them, I’ll let you eat out my pussy…”

Other new whorehouse slaves had their low status shown to them in more subtle ways. At the ‘Angel’s’ brothel located deep within the inner slum district of the Island capital, both the customers and the whores who serviced them were generally of the rougher sort. Given that situation, the addition of petite, white Dorthy was a particularly alluring move. Dorthy’s availability to her customers would have to be carefully managed in order to avoid her being used up too quickly. The fucking done within the shabby walls of this brothel was long and hard; little finesse shown here; here the whore’s pussies and assholes were constantly sore from the brutal ramming and slamming style of the hard men who frequented them.

For Dorthy, it was a case of being subjected not only to a program of shocking abuse, but also being the object of good old-fashioned humiliation. The “Angel’s” veteran Island whores had a natural resentment of Dorthy; of the attention accorded her; against the ‘special’ place that she would occupy in the establishment’s plans. They went out of their way to make it clear to Dorthy that regardless of her entertainment value there, that they regarded her as the lowest in rank and in esteem. And the brothel’s owners were wise enough not to interfere ….

Tall, lanky Glorina was the oldest and toughest of the whores. It was she who tended to think of and implement all the various schemes of Dorthy’s torment. Jealous of Dorthy to a fault, Glorina liked nothing better than seeing the white girl humbled by the embarrassment and shame of being forced to serve as the house’s toilet slave during it’s non-working hours.

Glorina shuddered as Dorthy’s wet and compliant tongue thrashed around against the inside of her asshole.

“You little bitch! You’re just supposed to lick any leftover shit out of my ass, not try and please me! You’re so damn sneaky, tryin’ to make me like ya and hopin’ that I’ll treat ya like some little queenie. Well, it won’t work! Just for tryin’ to make me feel good, I’m gonna take you in my room and whip that ass of yours raw with my strap!”

Bennie and his wife were novices to the whorehouse business. In fact, they had just one girl who’d they’d be featuring in their small shack/brothel. This little blond vacationing college student that they had snatched off the beach a week ago had done a great job of providing Bennie and his spouse with all the pleasure that they had wanted form her. Now it was time for her to start bringing in some badly-needed funds for them.

The slavegirl didn’t have a say in this decision, of course, but just to make sure that she wouldn’t be tempted to get any ideas of her own concerning her newly-imposed career, her Master Bennie made it a point to use his trust belt to clear her mind….

Michele’s assigned duty at her new whorehouse had been decided upon at the time of her purchase. Her owners knew that the novelty of their customers being able to look Michele in her deep blue eyes as they mouth-fucked her would be a great selling gimmick; one which would allow them to be able to charge an additional surcharge to their regular fee.

It would also especially please her clients to have her mouth totally captive, so as to facilitate their freedom to fuck her mouth as hard and as deeply as they wanted and to be able to shoot their loads of semen down her throat. The last thing they wanted was for Michele to dampen her customers’ enthusiasm by gagging, so a little mechanical assistance was called for. After her morning meal, a couple of the other whores would help to prepare Michele’s mouth for her day’s work….

But no matter how the all these slaves were introduced to their new whorehouse environments, the main fact was that their real submission would be to the many customers whom they would serve almost each day for the rest of their lives. Their was very little that could be done to prepare them for sheer scope of the degradation and debasement that they would be subjected to. It was such a long journey from their relatively privileged backgrounds to this life of total catering to even the most sordid desires of these hordes of smelly, unwashed men.

The rebellion and chaos that had taken place on San Dominos had worked to bring together people from wholly different worlds. In this particular wooden shack, former New York socialite Diane Von Bercas was coming to together with Manny Telcote. Manny was a field worker who had never attended school or visited New York. Just a few weeks ago, Diane had been issuing stern orders to her servant and maids; now, here in this shack on San Dominos, it was Diane who was trying her best to comply with the sexual demands of Manny Telcote.

This was the fifth hour of Diane’s assigned shift and her pussy was already fucked raw and sore. Each new deep thrust inside of Diane caused her to winch from the pain, but that was not Manny’s concern. Manny had paid money, a very rare commodity for Manny, to spend some time dipping his dick in this pretty Western bitch – and he was determined to get his money’s worth. Luckily for him, there was no limit on the amount of time or the number of times that the girls could be fucked. Manny was strong and virile and his cock was in the oversized category, so his sessions with Diane sweaty and prolonged…

As the new rebel government of San Dominos began to take power, there was a stir amongst those in the population who had developed a fondness for the pleasures that came from holding and using all those Western slave girls who had been captured during the first chaotic days and nights of the revolution.

Never mind the potential loss of all that submissive white flesh that could be used and abused to one’s absolute content; there was also the prospect of the captives’ respective Western governments demanding their safe return. Then everyone knew that the new San Dominos leaders would be forced to account for the fate of the captives and also bring all those who had used the slaves to justice.

Some panic began to surface in certain quarters, but then, again, the Island’s people had always been an industrious and resourceful lot, and the way to rid themselves of a problem like this was soon apparent. Rather than killing and disposing of the slaves, why not simply sell them off to those many ‘business people’ who had come to the Island just for the purpose of buying slave flesh for their various enterprises located on the South American Mainland?

The former police and prison guards who had served in the disposed island regime were still around and still organized in order to make some of the little money to be had. Their expertise made them ideally suited to act as the middlemen and the salesmen in the selling off of the many white slave girls brought to them by anxious owners.

The former Tangoon Institute served as a high-security prison for the old regime’s many political prisoners. Now it was teeming with scared, sweating Western slaves who were now wondering what would befall them next. They would soon find out; the buying and selling had begun and business was being carried on at a frantic pace.

The guards organized their slave product by attractiveness; those who were deemed to be the most appealing were grouped together for inspection or further training. Even though their former owners had used most of them extensively, it was still a good idea to apply a bit more discipline in order to avoid any rebellious thinking brought about by their new circumstances.

In the first days of the rebellion, most of the prisoners of the Tangoon Institute had been freed to go home to their families. But some the female prisoners felt-rightly-that given the rampaging lawlessness and pandemonium that was going on outside, that it might be a safer to remain inside the walls of the prison. After all there was still some food in the pantry and there were plenty of sleeping accommodations. And now there was an added treat. Since the former guards had retaken control of the place in order to conduct their slave-sale business, the ex-prisoners were given almost unlimited access to the seemingly unlimited supply of white slaves.

Tina and Babette were glad that they had decided to stay at Tangoon. Especially when one of the guards brought along a tasty little American treat named Karen. Karen had been an upcoming swimsuit model, destined for fame when she had accepted a wonderful photo assignment on the island of San Dominos. That was three weeks ago. Now Karen had been shoved into a cell with dusky Babette and Tina and destined to spend a night of sexual servitude…

In another cell, the big dyke guard named Lalo had shed her clothes as she prepared to spend some time with a blond slave who had caught her eye in the day’s line-up. Lalo wasn’t a mean sort, just stern and demanding. Her demands of this sweet-faced blond would not be too outrageous. A bit of ass-licking, a lot of pussyeating….

Patty had made the mistake of initially resisting the advances of a guard when he had become interested in her rather innocent, girl-next-door looks. She had quickly relalized her mistake, but it was too late. After having her pale ass flogged until she started to beg in just the right manner, Patty ass was destined for further abuse by almost a dozen guard cocks. The guards laughed as they rode her ass deep and rough, and by the time the 8th guard took his place behind her, she could barely stand. No matter, another helpful guard bent Patty over a desk and held her tightly in place while the 8th guard took her turn at her.

The buyers who came to Tangoon were very discerning and exacting when it came to which slaves they would purchase. Different buyers had different needs and sometimes it was rather hard to make final choices as to which girl to take and how many girls to take. Most of the potential buyers made their choices with business in mind; in fact the majority of the slaves wee purchased by people who had some involvement with Latin American whorehouses or upscale sex escort rings operating in the U.S.

But there were some exceptions. Pepe Filipas had come to Tangoon to buy a slave wife. Pepe’s lifestyle as a major narcotics smuggler didn’t leave for a lot of time in the seeking out of the right kind of girl to make his wife. And frankly, his rather uncouth looks and boorish manner tended to make him very unattractive to even the most open-minded females. And his almost 12 inches of cock and the fact that he preferred hard anal ramming made him an unpopular customer at the whorehouses and bordellos. So when Pepe arrived on San Dominos, his interest was personal, not business.

He had immediately been attracted to the 20 year-old French slave named Claudette. Her strong, yet very curvy body meant as much to him as her beautiful, full-lipped face. Pepe hadn’t haggled with the guards over her price; he paid it without protest. There was just one more thing: Pepe didn’t want to wait until he had her on his plane or back at his residence to fuck her. He paid the astonished guards for the use of an empty storeroom. He didn’t want to wait. He wanted to fuck Claudette now.

“Uhhhhhh….Oh, God……Uhhhhhhh….” Claudette normally beautiful face contorted from the pain as Pepe, once again, forced the head of his huge cock into her anus. Pepe was a crude man and his only concern was for his own pleasure; the pleasure that was already coming from the snug fit of Claudette’s rectum walls around his wide shaft. And the pleasure that also derived from owning this lovely slave, of knowing that he was free to take whatever he wanted from her. Pepe had a sadistic aspect of his personality, but he would not exhibit it from any spanking or whipping of this new slave. Instead, it was the pain and punishment that would be meted out from Pepe’s foot-long dick that would make Claudette suffer.

Gripping her tightly by her hair, Pepe held her in place as he rudely drove his cock in all the way to the balls. Claudette’s body winched in agony, further thrilling him as he started to settle into yet another of his patented pile-driving fuckings of her asshole. Cruel, merciless, full-throttle half-hour poundings ….

“Ohhhh! Please! Master, please! Nooooo…NOOOOOOOOOOOO,,,!”

Claudette’s pitiful pleadings would again be answered by Pepe’s deep grunts – and even heavier slamming as he pulled her head back by her hair and kept her even more firmly in position to take the full impact of his anal attack.

“Si, right there. Keep it right there! Mmmm, si! Si! Give it to Pepe! Give it ALL to your Pepe…!”

The business was going well. The slaves were being sold at a much faster pace than anyone had anticipated. And it looked as though the new government of San Dominos was not going to be as aggressive in its efforts to recover the Western slaves as they had first indicated. So there was some room to relax a bit. Maybe to spend a bit more time enjoying what those white slaves had to offer before selling them off.

Virginia was due to be exhibited for sale in a few days. She would no doubt be sold quickly and bring in a good price. But the guards had been working so hard and needed a little time for fun and relaxation. Virginia would be taken out of Tangoon to spend some time in a more informal setting in which she would have the opportunity to further serve her jailers before being put on the auction block.

The guards also had friends who would be joining in the fun. Yes, Virginia would never forget her last few days on San Domina…….

The girls who had been transferred from the prison were initially put into a temporary holding area, where they were all subjected to yet another ‘refresher’ session to assure their continued compliance and proper attitudes. Combined with a medium-level application of punishment measures, the practice of a good week of sustained discomfort always seems to yield the desired effects on these new arrivals.

There was a general lack of sound in the Holding Area, broken only by the occasional soft sob or mostly involuntary shift of a slave’s body… All vestiges of resistance or hopefulness were fading away slowly as the pain in their joints and aching muscles took their toll…

On her first trip up to the main bordello area, the American girl, Jeannette, was immediately welcomed by the regular whores who were anxious to initiate Jeannette into heir tight society. Jeanette had never sexually been with another woman, but that would all change tonight. And for countless nights afterwards….

“What a dainty little tongue you have”, remarked Rica as she took her place as the first in line. ” Now flick it out gently and let it touch mine. I’m gonna teach you how to kiss a woman properly, so that she appreciates it and wants more…”

Senor Mercedes was a brothel owner who ran his business with a tight hand. His regular whores were well mannered, didn’t steal and were always most respectful to their customers. The Senor tolerated very little back talk or trouble at his place, so it was only natural for a man of his temperament and inclination for perfection and obedience to take a personal interest in assuring that these two new American slave-whores named Jeannette and Amanda would adhere to his strict workplace demands. Still not trusting the effectiveness of their previous training, Senor Mercedes decided to take it upon himself to make sure that they fully understood the firm standards of decorum that guided the everyday behavior of his establishment.

“Just because you both happen to be blond and American won’t cut you any slack with me at my place!” The Senor drew back his arm to apply yet another round of hard flogs to the exposed backs of Amanda and Jeanette. Mercedes was an expert with his short whips; he had long perfected the ability to inflict great pain or extended amounts of time without permanently marking whatever flesh her happen to be working on. Marked girls couldn’t command as much money from his clientele. But the two slaves felt as if the Senor was whipping every bit of skin off their suffering bodies.

Then the Senor would take each separately into another room where he would give them to his brothel’s thuggish, twin-brother guards in order to further reinforce their understanding of their lowly positions. Nothing like a bit of rough rape and a good beating to put a new girl in her place…

Rollo had greeted Jeannette with a thorough session of hard punching and slapping to set the tone of how the rest of there shared evening was going to run its course. With his sadistic desires now somewhat replaced by the desire to fuck, Rolla now dragged Jeannette over to the bed to let her use her sweet mouth on his monstrous dick before getting down to the business of tearing her white pussy apart with it….

Rollo chuckled to himself as he observed Jeannette’s look of astonishment and dread when his huge cock came into view. The girls always had that reaction when they first saw that thing of his; other than his twin brother, few men in the world possessed a shaft as big as Rollo. At one time he and his brother had been featured in sex shows where the tourists had flocked in to watch in awe and wonder as they both used their oversized shafts to ravaged whatever willing or unwilling girl unfortunate to be paired with them. But that had been before the one girl had died from the injuries that she had endured form their cock’s pummelling…

“Si, good, good! That’s way! Lick it slow and wet. All the way up and down and make sure that it’s hard as a rock so that I can show ya how a nasty, worthless little whore like ya deserves to be fucked. Too bad the Senor won’t let me fuck ya as hard as I want – but don’t worry, I promise that everyone’s gonna hear ya yellin’ and screamin’ when I go to work on that ittle cunt of yours…”

While Rollo was having his time with Jeannette, his twin brother Marcus was introducing himself to Amanda. Marcus has his particular preferences for getting himself ready for a good night of hard fucking and he was now guiding Amanda through the first phase of working him up to do her properly.

“Mmmmmmm…keep it up, bitch. Keep that tongue workin’ on my asshole. That’s right, ya got my balls twitchin’ now, got ’em churnin’ up some good, thick cum. Pretty soon ‘ol Marcus is gonna put ya on your back…”

Jeannette and Amanda had learned their lessons – and their place – well. Not only were they a hit with the brothel’s many customers; they were also an added asset to Senor Mercedes’ operation as featured sex show performers. The Senor had heard their sounds while being fucked by Marcus and Rollo and had noticed the reaction of the other brothel whores and customers who also had been listening in. Ever the astute businessman and promoter, the Senor knew a good attraction when he heard one; within days, he had started planning for twice-weekly sex shows at his place featuring the two American girls and Rollo and Marcus.

“I want you to fuck them real good and make them suffer; that’ll be great for the customers”, the Senor had informed Rollo and his brother. “But you both are going to have to control your fuckin, understand? These two bitches cost me money and they’re no use to me dead or injured so much that they can’t work the regular customers!”

Practice makes perfect and before they were put on stage for their sex shows, Amanda and Jeanette were required to engage in a series of rehearsals to make sure that they knew exactly what to do. The Senor had determined that aside from the hard fucking that they would endure, that the two slave-whores might further thrill the audiences with displays of particularly nasty cocksucking and cum-swallowing. Under the supervision and advice from the regular whores, the two white slaves were coached in the art of milking every bit of semen from those huge cocks, then further entertaining everyone by exchanging the globs of thick cum with each other before gulping and slurping it down…

Don’t get wise with me, bitches… any drop on the floor means you licking it and ten of the medium rod. So better lick each other those damp chins of yours thoroughly…

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Download Porn Pictures From This Stories. BDSMArtWork Full Siterip!

The arrival of new slavegirls at a Coven Brothel was always clamorous – but carefully so. Miss Coven had planned it so that upon their disembarkation, the already-distressed young abductees were even further disoriented by a suddenly imposed regimen of screamed orders, pulled hair and heavy blows by Miss Coven’s skilled ‘greetings’ crews. The slaves had no time to think or consider their predicament; the determined ‘greeters’ met them with a savage onslaught that only would only let up when the crying girls began to clearly display signs of total submission.

It was in the first few days and sleepless nights that any will or self respect that these slavegirls had would begin to wilt. They would learn the value of the words, “Yes, Mistress” and “Right away, Mistress” and would start to realize that only by making their Greeters happy would they experience better treatment.

Since the founder of the Coven Lesbian Brothels lived in the States and because of the clearly larger demand for American slavegirls, the Caribbean brothel ( Brothel No. 1 ) was the largest of the three establishments. Strangely immune to discovery or interference, this Island brothel for ladies regularly took in a new shipment of approximately fifty or sixty scared young women almost every week. And Miss Coven’s were upon them the moment the slaves landed.

In a moment that illustrated the many individual personal stories amid the controlled mayhem of the Arrival, the petite nineteen year-old girl named Patsy cowered against the wall, closely overshadowed by the big Greeter woman, Nadine. “Please don’t hurt me anymore, Mistress,” the teary-eyed slave pleaded. “Please! I’ll do anything…!”

“Mmmmm… I know you will, honey,” Mistress Nadine agreed soothingly as she pressed her fattish, sweating body close against Patsy’s. “Just an hour more and I’ll unshackle you and you and me can go somewhere private. Then you can show me how cooperative you can be….”

________________________

Miss Coven’s younger sister, Miss Dolm, was one who was steeped in the Unnatural Arts and being so, immediately recognized the value of enslaving twin sisters. Having a twin as one’s personal slave brought with it an unfathomable increase of pleasure that was almost threefold that the normal slavegirl could provide. An enslaved Twin Slavegirl brought with her an ability to obediently bring an enhanced lady like Miss Dolm to orgasms that were tumultuous – almost malevolent – in their nature; sending someone like Miss Dolm or Miss Coven into throes of hours-long orgasms. Clawmarks on the walls. Wild screams and howls. Pleasure that was unimaginable to normal women.

A beautiful English twin had been captured by an alert minion of Miss Dolm in the States and quickly delivered to her under the most extreme secrecy. Taking delivery of this valued girl was quite a chancy and perilous move for Miss Dolm. Her older sister was twice as powerful, having lived for almost two centuries longer, and Miss Dolm had no doubts that Coven would consider this as an offence worthy of Miss Dolm’s demise. The English girl was Leanne; Miss Dolm had briefly considered also keeping Leanne’s twin sister but the aura of the twins together in one place would reach Miss Coven’s alert senses – and there would literally be Hell To Pay. The other twin was now serving in the Eastern European brothel, her memory erased. Still such a chance…..

But this was here and now. Miss Dolm must have this beautiful twin for herself for life. There were spells that would arrest Leanne’s aging enough that it would be yet another couple of centuries before the first wrinkle appeared. So much time and pleasure. And danger….

The powerful Miss Dolm held Leanne tightly as the slave, her mind already beginning to cloud, haltingly read out loud from each page of the book of Spells that Dolm had chosen.

“Yes, yes, keep reading. Soon you will remember nothing except your eagerness to do as I say.” Miss Dolm’s voice was hoarse from all the screaming orgasms that Leanne had given her the previous nights. In fact, her big nipples stilled pulsed and large drops of Miss Dolm’s pussyjuice still made audible splattering sounds as they leaked to the floor. “Keep reciting the words chosen just for girls like you and you will belong to me.”

Miss Dolm’s fingers dug into into the soft yielding flesh of Leanne’s breasts and her breathing was harder now. The dripping from her now-demanding cunt was becoming more thick and more rapid as she whispered vile things in the slave’s ear.

“Hurry. Hurry…” Miss Dolm urged.

________________________

Although she had been born into a quite powerful Latin American family, Manuela Milagros had suffered from insults about her unattractive looks throughout her pre-adult years. Many times she had broken into tears at the catcalls of ” Monkey Face ” and “Ugly” and all the rest – usually from other females. Her family had tried to console her by lavishing her with money, expensive clothes and trips around the world. But the damage had been done. But Manuela also was one who not only remembered the names that she had been called – but those girls who had called her the names. Imagine their humiliation, Manuela had thought, at being enslaved by the very woman that they had previously ridiculed; at having to service her hairy pussy and rank asshole with their tongues…..

Manuela’s thoughts found an eager audience among the other women who had suffered through similar circumstances in their early years. So these women formed a special group that extracted personal revenge upon those females who had had their lives miserable.

For Manuela, a proud, snobbish blond named Leticia Albana would be her first revenge victim. Yes, Leticia had been defiant when she was first brought in and saw Manuela. “I should have know an sorry-looking puta like you would be behind something so childish as this! I demand you release me at once!” were Leticia’s first words. But Manuela had wielded her whip and paddle like a real pro, punishing her tormenter’s pale body with a quiet fury that soon resulted in Leticia pleading and begging for mercy. Leticia’s humiliation was then just beginning.

Yet again, Mistress Manuela had reserved a secluded cell when she came to Brothel No. 2 to visit her personal slave of revenge, Leticia. For the slave, that meant long sessions of Manuela’s leather paddle followed by much longer sessions designed to educate her in the duties of a Humiliation Slave. Manuela was careful not to have broken her slave. No, she wanted her personal slave to still be able to experience the shame of being forced to do things like using her tongue to clean out Manuela’s asshole at the end of each night of sex and punishment.

Yes, slavegirl Leticia was not so proud now. She was very different from the snob who had made fun of Manuela’s less-than-attractive looks throughout their childhood years…..

“Mercy, please, Mistress! Please forgive me for the things I said to you. I was so wrong! I know that now. Please…”

“I know how sorry you are, bitch. Now stick out your tongue for me. You have such a pretty, long tongue. I like it very much”. Nothing the slave could say would ever change anything. Ever.

“Hmmmm…” Mistress Manuela’s moaned with anticipation and desire and her saliva ran thick as she slurped noisily on Leticia’s offered tongue.

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In the her native Romania, Aurora had to be very careful at parties or social functions at which alcohol was available or served. Having had just one drink, she was practically guaranteed to have yet another and another until she was roaring drunk. And her kind of drunk was the toppling, falling-down, sick-in-the-stomach kind which served to make her persona non grata: No invitations for Aurora to join the parties; not even from her closest relatives. And the girls, those beautiful girls whom Aurora worshipped and wanted, were repelled by her alcohol-ravaged face and her stupefied manner; landing any of them in bed was out of the question.

But Aurora now had her friendly, welcoming Coven Brothel available at any time she could manage to travel there. They were happy to have her as a customer, even when she drank. Of course they paired Aurora up with any other heavy-drinking customer who happened to be in attendance. Besides, the Brothel made quite a handsome profit providing Aurora with the quality wines and champagnes that she tended to favor.

And there were those beautiful female slaves…

Aurora never had to worry about being judged or turned away by the compliant sex slaves at the Coven Lesbian Brothel of her choice, no matter how obnoxiously drunk she might be. No matter how sickly drunk. She and her almost equally soused drinking partner had chosen an English girl as their overnight pussy-eater – and the English lady had been very pleasuring and earnest in her duties. No, no complaints with this slave so far, no even when Aurora and friend had indulged themselves in several long belt-whipping sessions that had marked and reddened the English girl’s pal skin. But now came the part that Aurora really enjoyed…

“Open your mouth wide, pretty English girl,” Auroa commanded. “Yes, just like that. This your chance to show your love for me by swallowing all my puke, okay? You will love the taste! You want to do this, yes?

“Good, goooood, you are so obedient. Just the kind I like. Maybe I buy you, keep you in my place with other bitches I own…. Okay, keep mouth open! You are hungry, yes? Here it comes! Ugggggghhhhhh…… Uggggghhhhhhhh…… Swallow quick, here comes more! Yyyuhhhhhh….”

________________________

Payback was being a Mistress’s bitch. This was especially the case for Celeste, who had no idea that someday she would pay the price of her ill-advised comments at a party that she was invited to while vacationing in Argentina. Slightly under the influence of a few cocktails, Celeste had spotted Paula Alvarez across the room and uttered loudly enough for those around her to hear:

“That’s one/ ugly/ bitch over there.”

It didn’t take long for Miss Alvarez, always very sensitive about her lack of good looks, to be informed of Celeste’s rude remarks. Those close to her at the time saw that she was clearly hurt but stoic, refusing to show her reaction to the insult aimed at her. But Paula Alvarez was not one to forget or forgive, as Celeste would soon find out when the masked men abducted her from her hotel room later that night.

Now Celeste would be spending the rest of her life in Coven Brothel No.2 being /Paula’s /bitch.

She would crawl across the floor to meet Mistress Paula upon her arrival, kiss her feet and present her buttocks for the Mistress to spank. Her Mistress took great delight at having Celeste constantly telling her how beautiful a Mistress she was. Sometimes the slave had to spend as much as three or four hours lavishing Paula with compliments before Mistress Paula would finally reward her sincere submissiveness by opening her thighs to let Celeste use her lips and tongue. Only by fulfilling her duties at pleasuring would the slavegirl be able to avoid the painful bondage and punishment that Mistress Paula was only too glad to subject her to whenever she felt she wasn’t getting all that she wanted.

Paula gently guided Celeste’s sobbing mouth to one of her tits. “Ohhh, it’s alright, my bonita. Julie here is also from the States and she just doesn’t like you for some reason. She wants to beat you so much that it would be impolite for me to give her permission to go at you every once in a while. You understand, don’t you? ”

“See how she suckles my tits, Julie? I really like how she does it. Always makes my pussy sopping wet, ready for her to take care off. Want her to suck on your tits, Julie?”

“Shit, I’d enjoy whipping on that ass of hers some more; reminds me of someone I hated when I was young. Okay, but can I beat her if she doesn’t get me off?”

________________________

Within the dulled and darkened walls of Brothel No. 3, there occurred many heartwarming instances of slaves finally giving into and accepting their new roles in life. Roles that were based on the principles of loyalty and service and the time-honored theory of finding solace in providing pleasure for others.

It was not that the slavegirls were forced to do things against their wills. It was rather that they were part of the natural order of Superiors having their special needs and Slavegirls being positioned to service those needs. Of course, the slaves needed to be corrected when first brought into service; the bad habits of independent will and thought were inconvenient barriers to their advancement in their new roles.

Teuta was an example of a young college student who had yet to realize how much happier and content she’d be once she was forced to readjust her thinking. It was her fate to be discovered by one of her university professors, a certain Miss Yllka. The sharp-eyed Miss Yllka had immediately spotted the potential of the petite Teuta’s lovely mouth and shapely, compact form. But Teuta had rejected the advances of the somewhat unattractive older instructor and thought that was the end of it. But it was not. Miss Vllka was determined that it would be she who show the girl how perfect she was for service in Miss Coven Lesbian Brothel. A couple of calls and it was done. Miss Yllka, as the discoverer of this new slave, had the right to claim sole rights to Teuta. But although she could easily afford it, Yllka declined the offer – choosing instead the exclusive rights to train the new slavegirl. Yllka was a natural teacher and took to her new duties with an almost ecstatic pleasure.

The Mistress took her time in breaking Teuta. She was an experienced lesbian of over a hundred years and she knew how to slowly inflict the most delicious of agonies upon her slave. At the moment, it was Mistress Yllka’s clinched fist that was the cause of Teuta’s agony. Yllka herself was nearing her own orgasm as the slavegirl’s body bucked and quivered as Yllka worked her fist deep into the slave’s asshole.

“AAAAGHHHHHHH….. NOOOOOOO! AAAAAIIIIIEEEEEE…!”

“Mmmmm,’ the Mistress’s voice was throaty from her building lust and passion. She worked her fist around, this way and that, as she gradually forced it in further. She would take a full half-hour to work it up to her elbow. And causing Teuta such overwhelming pain and suffering in the meantime….

“Oh my dear, sweet girl…!” Yllka moaned as she began to feel the first of a series of small orgasms run through her body. “Sweet….. Soooooo sweet…”

The Werwitch Season Begins.

Miss Jamecha was one of the Brothel Helpers who enjoyed working with the Werwitches when they arrived for their annual initiations of their just-turned-adult daughters into their first experiences of Werwitch sex and death rituals.

Some helpers had a problem with observing and listening to the extreme pain and suffering of the young virgins who were provided for the Werwitches’ pleasure; Jamecha, though, was not one of them. Maybe it was that her own nature and darker desires were similar….

The Werwitches were an isolated lot, feared and resented for their close ties to the Master of All – who looked over them (in his own way) in return for their tireless service of obtaining for his use only the freshest and most beautiful 18 year-old virgins from all over the world. They carried the curse of ugliness; unattractive facial features; bad skin with puss-running sores that dotted their deformed bodies -even around their hair pussies and assholes- and a rotten odor about them that could not be rid of, no matter how well they bathed.

But Despite their physical curse, the Werwitches, born lesbian at birth, were blessed with having access to the most attractive and innocent girls; girls who spent the rest of their lives -however short- doing nothing but giving the most deviant of pleasures to their Werwitch Mistresses. It was said that during their adult lives, which spanned centuries, a Werwitch averaged at least fifty orgasms a day, every day. Their network of Sister Werwitches and their devoted, well-paid informers keep tabs on countless numbers of eighteen year-old virgins; careful selection and planning keeping both them and the Master well-satisfied…..

Now Miss Jamecha smiled broadly as she brought in yet another virgin into one of the reserved Werwitch rooms.

“Hello, Sister Hezola. I see that your roommate there is already having fun with her girlfriend. Well, here’s yours, a cute little university freshman from the states. Totally innocent, religious family and upbringing. Just right for all your wants and needs. Does she meet with your approval?”

“Hmmmm, yes, this one is nice. Nice selection, I approve! Bring her in here to my bed.”

“You and I are going to get so well acquainted, my sweet girl – I promise that you’ll never forget! And don’t pay any attention if you start to hear screaming from my Sister’s side over there. Just obey and do what you’re told. There will be plenty of time later for you to scream when it’s your turn….”

________________________

Slave Donna’s Tongue Makes An Impression.

Apprentice Werwitch Tasha’s mother and aunts had gathered to witness and celebrate her first slave-induced orgasm. Petite 18 years-by-a-week Donna had endured Tasha’s bad-breath, spit-drooling kisses and had obediently kissed her back, forcing herself to accept the big witch’s tongue deep within her mouth and to answer back with her own.

Donna had sobbed quietly and thanked the young Werwitch as she rocked Donna’s body with heavy, strong-armed swings of that wooden paddle and had raised marked by her relentless spanking of Donna’s well-formed little butt. Donna wanted to live. From the hall that housed the various suites, she had heard the pitiful, full-voiced screams and final throes of some of her fellow slavegirls and knew that her only chance to survive would be to show that she could be counted on to be an above-average giver of pleasure. Apprentice Werwitch Tasha was a big, strong young gal and she now enjoyed Donna’s suffering as she stood over the pretty girl, whipping her with her favorite belt, muttering, “Yes, yes. yes…!”

But Tasha got much more enjoyment from the slavegirl’s determined servicing of her hairy pussy and asshole. Slave Donna caused the fat Tasha’s blubbery body to shake and quake as she licked that appreciative huge young clit and cunt to one orgasm after another. The Werwitch’s pussy smelled and tasted foul, but the slavegirl forced herself to keep her mouth and lips working feverishly. Tasha’s voice was bass as she kept Donna’s head smothered against her pussy with those strong hands….

“Uhhhhhh….Uhhhhhhhh…!

It was all Donna could do to resist the use to flinch or pull away as the big Werwitch’s sloppy pussy shot thick streams of rancid, dark cunt-juice into her mouth and to force her tongue to keep licking even as those purple-red boils broke under it’s pressure and leaked out their supply of stinking, yellow pus. One by one, the boils popped their pus on Donna’s tongue – but she dared not do anything less than lap it all up.

Werwitch Tasha’s female relatives had been watching closely and were impressed with the slavegirl’s willingness to please her. They came closer, inching in to get a better look.

“This sweet little slave might be worth keeping,” one aunt said. “Look at how hard she works on our girl’s pussy! If she can keep that up, she might be a good addition to our harem back home.”

“Maybe,” opinioned another Werwitch. “We’ll see. Bitch, you lick good – but now take that tongue of yours and shove it as deep as you up my niece’s asshole…. Ummmmm, just like that…now roll it all around and suck it out……. Yes, make that butt-hole all nice and as clean as you can….. Mmmmm, that’s it, darling, keep sucking it out…”

________________________

A Nice Gift.

Werwitch Mistress Ola was having a fine time. She had been thoroughly enjoying seeing her beloved daughter experiencing her first slave-induced orgasms and had attended pleasure-flushed girl’s first

Love Sacrifice – a bit noisy and a little too much needless waste of blood, but still a mother’s proud moment. But Ola had gotten even more more thorough pleasure from the young slavegirl she had spotted down at the open auction a few hours before. Usually Ola was content to partake of whatever the Brothel would supply in terms of young girls, no complaints there. But when the crying young 18 year-old virgin slave named Rolanda was marched up on the auction stage…………

Most Werwitches valued lust over love. They used up hundreds of young virgin slavegirls every year, content to use them up and then absorb their souls when they became boring or unable to survive further. Love usually came along one or twice in a century or even a Werwitch’s entire four-to-five century lifetime; if at all, in some cases. But Mistress Ola’s love-time had come as soon as she saw Rolanda.

Her winning bid for the girl was high, but in such cases, money was not a consideration. Such a sweet, lovely girl. And the only daughter of a devout preacher from the Southern part of the States! The Dark Master would probably personally approve! In such cases, He might even honor Ola with a rare personal visit in order to impale Ola’s prized slavegirl on His mighty goat-cock. Perhaps even pump her full of His black cum and gift Ola with a powerful Demon Werdaughter, a situation that would elevate Ola into the very top ranks of the Werwitch Sisterhood itself. But she was not thinking of all that when she bid on the petite Rolanda. All she wanted was dragging the girl back to her bed….

And the slavegirl didn’t disappoint Ola. Not in any way. So many orgasms. So much pussy juice. That sweet, submissive mouth. Learning fast at licking her insistent clit and at loosening Ola’s bowels with that wet, vacuuming-type sucking of Ola’s asshole……. especially Ola’s asshole. Ola was in ecstasy as she more than once arched her ancient body, pushing her quivering ass back towards the slavegirl’s subservient head – and that obedient suckling mouth……… Ola’s eyes rolling and her lips slack as she groaned, “Ohhhhh…Huhhhhh….!”

Yes, Rolanda was one who would be kept and trained to excel in the most perverse and deviant sexual arts; one to whom Ola would rush home in order to be serviced for hours…

The other Witches could plainly see that Ola had obtained someone special, not just any slavegirl.

“Sister Ola,” asked one. “Do you intend to keep that pretty little bitch or just use her for a long time?”

“No, she will be mine forever. I will make her my sweet bride and she will remain young as she is throughout the rest of my days. See how she is already so devoted to my needs? Open your mouth and bring it closer, slave – show my friend here what a good girl you are. Yesssss…. Ahhhhhh…. See how she drinks my piss? Ahhhhhhhh…..!”

An Unforgettable Lesson

Although the Werwitches were known for their rather extreme practices and tastes, it was the firm policy of the Coven Brothel ownership that all Apprentice-level Werwitches be accompanied and instructed by an experienced Blood Mistress if they carried out their first Love Sacrifice on Brothel grounds. The young witches, their bodies and minds clouded by their first days and nights of non-stop orgasmic ecstasy, would make a mess if not properly guided, instructed and restrained. Past centuries had shown that experienced Werewitches were themselves very poor overseers of their younger Sisters when it came to guiding them through the Sacrifice; an act that would establish them as a blooded and True Sister Werwitch.

A Blood Mistress, an independent witch who specialized in the more extreme forms of lesbian sadism, was the type who kept control of her urges, savoring every last morsel of her subgirls’ pain and agonies. Mistress Lilian was a three century-old Blood Witch who had overseen the Love Sacrifice initiations of hundreds of apprentice Werwitches; teaching them how to extract the very last vestiges of life-force from their chosen ‘girlfriends’.

It was not easy for a Apprentice Werwitch to control herself once she started to experience the onrush that surged through her entire body as her victim screamed and thrashed in her last throes. If not restrained, the young Sister-to-be would literally tear her suffering girlfriend to pieces within a matter of minutes, allowing shreds of the girl’s soul to scatter out into the air around them instead of being able to leisurely absorb every last delicious morsel of her submissive spirit. Mistress Lilian was generously compensated to see to it that

her Apprentice would enjoy every last bit of soul-force possible that her girlfriend had to give her.

Apprentice Sister Mikashia was trembling with anticipation as she held the specialized hand-saw. Restrained below her was her chosen ‘girlfriend’ Diana; a long-time object of Mikashia’s affection since childhood. Diana, who had submitted so thoroughly and who had surrendered her pretty mouth and tongue to Mikashia’s

appreciative pussy and asshole all the previous nights…..Lovely Diana……Diana, whose spirit Mikashia would absorb and keep as a trophy of love and lust, captured within her for all the upcoming centuries of her Werwitch life. Yes, there would be so many girls and souls to enjoy in the times to come – but only one Diana…

“Are you ready?” Mistress Lilian asked the Apprentice beside her.

Beneath them, securely restrained, the beautiful, perky, freckle-faced Diana cried and begged, “No, Nooooooo! Don’t! Donnnn’ttttt…..!

“Oh, yes! Yes, I’m so ready……”, Apprentice Mikashia eyes were glassy with lust; she licked her swollen lips.

“Now, now, my sweet, restrain yourself. Take your time. First, get her hair out of the way, so you can work on that pretty little neck of hers. Touchdown first with a light pressure and then just move it back and forth, okay? Nice and slow. No need to hurry. Your beautiful girl there will start to jerk around, so just concentrate at keeping a slow, steady pace…..

“There you go, that’s the way…”

“Noooo! Aghhhhhhh! Ohhhhhh Godddd….!”

________________________

A Fateful Reunion

It had been some two years before that Vickie had demonstrated her kind spirit and generous nature when she had firmly admonished her cheerleader friends when they had loudly began making snide remarks about the tall, strange-looking , tattooed waitress who served them breakfast at the restaurant near their high school.

“Ewwwwwww!” muttered one girl. ” I don’t know if I wanna eat food from a plate that’s been near that woman! Look at the sores on her face! She’s got godamn pus running from some of them! Ewwwwwww!”

“Looks like somebody from a zombie movie,” laughed other.

But Vickie, true to her nature, had silenced them all with her shock at their rude behavior. “Shut up, all of you,” she told them. “That woman can’t help how her face looks! She’s not nearly as ugly as the bunch of you at this moment!”

“Oh, take it easy, Vicky! We were just joking…..”

“That’s not a joking matter! You all should be ashamed of yourselves.”

The waitress had maintained her straight face, acting as if she had not overhead the conversation. When she went back to the counter, she asked, who’s that pretty blond cheerleader sitting at the right? She seems so nice.”

“Oh, that’s Vicky Mathison. Yeah, she’s a really decent girl. Goes to Church all the time. Teaches Sunday School. Everybody likes her. They don’t get any nicer than that…”

Werwitch Hendrea, smiled as she adjusted her waitress’s apron. A couple more years ……..

And so it was one day after Vicky Mathison’s birthday that she disappeared from her college domitory room. Three days later when she begged for mercy as Merwitch Hendrea took her time with that leather whip, applying it so expertly across every part of Vicky’s bound young body.

It was the four day that Hendrea lowered her hungry, needy cuntlips down toward Vicky’s beautiful mouth. ” This is my pussy, Vicky. See how it’s already so wet? It needs you to lick it. Eat my pussy, Vicky….”

“No, please! It’s so wrong! I remember you! I was nice to you! Why are you doing this to me? Oh, God, why?”

“Your God’s got nothing to do with this,” the Witch cooed. “He can’t help you now. You belong to me now. I’ve waited so long for you. Do you want me to string you up and whip you again? Mmmmmmm, I thought not. Now eat my pussy, sweet Vicky……….. Uhhhhhhhh, yeahhhhh. Yessss, just like that! You’re gonna be such a nasty little girl, Vicky…..so nasty…!”

It was a week of humiliation and suffering before Vicky began to exhibit the signs of true submission that her Werwitch Mistress had been looking for. Yes, soon it would be time for Vicky to give her all, to give her Mistress the gift of every last vestige of her body and soul. Soon it would be time for the Love Sacrifice.

“Oh, Vicky, you’re so good! Such a good girl,” the lesbian Witch Hendrea murmured as she lay atop of her slave. We’ll rest for a while, then I’ll sit on your pretty face again so you can service my pussy and ass one more time tonight – and then it will be time for me to Sacrifice you and take your soul. You’re such a good girl and you don’t deserve what’s going to happen to you. I’m going to enjoy it so much..

“Oh, I love how you cry, Vicky. I want you screaming and crying when you go, I’ll make sure of it, okay? It will make me cum and cum, baby. Yes, girl, you’re gonna suffer so much! Yes, Yesss, that’s it. Keep crying so I can lick away all those tears! Mmmmm… they taste so good…”

________________________

A Werwitch Mother’s Pride

Elder Werwitch Geradine sat back watching the scene of her lovely daughter Mikashia having her fun alternating back and forth between paddling and examining the beautiful, well-shaped blond English slavegirl that she had personally selected to take back home with her. Sure, Geradine thought, every young witch should start up her own harem as soon as possible. The nights can get so cold and lonely without the use of several lovely mouths to keep a witch’s holes all warm and satisfied. And nothing better to calm you down after a stressful day than a long, hard whipping of a suspended slave-bitch.

And her daughter was now blooded and a full adult member of the Werwitch Sisterhood. Maternal pride flowed through Geradine’s veins – and blood flowed toward her cunt as she fingered herself faster and faster.

It was time for her to cum. She needed to cum, she needed to pee…….

“Mikashia, I know you’re having a good time playing around with that pretty bitch of yours – but your dear old mother’s pussy needs a good tongue workin’ on it right now. Bring her over here!”

“Ohhh, Mommmm….Can’t you wait? She’s got the prettiest, tight little pussy and I was about to see how far my fist….”

“No, I want her now, girl! Don’t make me mad! Get her over her fast! I gotta piss real bad!”

Download Porn Pictures From This Stories. BDSMArtWork Full Siterip!

Download Porn Pictures From This Stories. BDSMArtWork Full Siterip!

PRELUDE

August 25th, 2006

All characters are 18 years old or older

The Regime had eventually hunted down practically everyone on their ‘most-wanted’ list of political enemies and agitators, but they were smart enough to realize that there were many, many additional traitors and would-be traitors that they didn’t yet know about. Therefore, when they finally managed to first infiltrate and then round up the rather naive dozen or so members of the underground group of journalists and journalism students known as ‘ the Truth Brigade’, they wasted no time in employing some very brutal measures in order to obtain more information out of them concerning other possible sympathizers or supporters of the group or their aims. And since these so-called ‘Truth Brigadiers’ were merely regular citizens and not some hardened ideologues, it usually didn’t require more than a few hours of inflicting pain to convince them to talk.

Mr. Edwards was an exception. He was just a newspaper publisher, but he hadn’t talked or betrayed any of names of the circle of friends and supporters of his group. He was a man of principle and had held up strongly even under the numerous beatings and electro-tortures that the political police had subjected him to over the 18 hours that they had him in custody.

But his 19 year-old daughter Nancy was another matter. She was just as principled, but not nearly as strong. She had been quickly and thoroughly broken by the hours of whippings, beatings and rape. She had babbled out almost everything they wanted to know and more. But her tormentors weren’t done yet – they had one more bit of agony to inflict on Nancy and her father. ” We’re gonna re-unite you with your bastard of a father,” they told her as they led her into a large cell and attached her collar to the heavy chain that hung from the ceiling.

“Ya know, yer little girl here had been real helpful in tellin’ us all about how you and the other scumbags in yer group of traitors have been plttin’ and plannin’ against yer own government,” sneered Sgt. Paulson as he regarded Mr. Edwards sitting tied and gagged against the opposite wall. “Yessir, yer daughter’s gave you up and a lot of others. I tell ya, when she wasn’t suckin’ cock and eating cum, she was usin’ that mouth of hers tell us everything we wanted to hear. Like the location of that big printin’ machine and like where to find that disk with the names and addresses of all the other traitors you’ve been in contact with.”

Sgt. Paulson laughed as he observed Edwards’ distressed reaction. “Yeah, that really got ya, huh? Well, we’re gonna take ya out in the yard and shoot ya. We don’t believe in keeping old farts like you around. But yer daughter here is another matter. We’ve got all sorts of plans for her, you can be sure.”

With that said, the sergeant went over to Nancy, dropped his trousers and lifted her and pinned her against the stonewall. “Be still, bitch, so’s I can get my dick fitted all nice and snug in that sweet little pussy you got,” he grunted at her. “Ahhhhh, yeahhhh, that’s it. Feels good.”

Sgt Paulson looked back over his shoulder at Nancy’s father. ” You’re gonna watch me fuck yer whore daughter before you die, asshole. And you’re gonna also watch my buddy, Corporal Tiggs fuck her. And if we catch you not watchin’, we’re gonna cut her open and gut her while she’s still alive! So you just sit there and watch the show. Watch how well yer little gal takes a hard cock!”

Nancy was filled with self-loathing and shame. Her inability to withstand the harsh punishments and pain inflicted upon her during her interrogations had result in her betrayal of the other members of her opposition group and even her own father. And the prison guards had forced her father to look on as three of them took turns raping her in all her holes and as they emptied their loads of cum down her throat. She had heard the shots that killed her father; the sharp reports of the guards’ pistols mixed with the loud groan of the black guard named Tiggs as he shot another stream of his semen deep up Nancy’s raw ass. She no longer had a sense of hope or self-worth.

To the guards, Nancy almost mindless subservience served only to make her a more inviting target. They loved how she dully accepted a fat cock being rammed hard to the back of her throat, even to where the balls were slamming against her chin. How she obediently opened her throat and gulped down the numerous floods of jism that they jacked into her waiting mouth.

And when they turned her over, she knew what they wanted and lifted her captive ass, offering it, opening it to the guards’ demanding cock-thrusts. She moved her ass when ordered, moved it like the worthless, betraying whore that she had become.

All throughout the prison, during both day and night, the guards had free reign with their helpless female political prisoners. There was no need to worry about sexual excesses; these women were nothing but a bunch of ungrateful, misguided traitors who had plotted to cause trouble. They deserved no mercy or consideration for their feelings or discomforts. They deserved to be shown their proper place. They deserved to be shown that the Regime now owned their bodies; owned those tight pussies and assholes. The male members of the group were all dead and buried by now; they were of no value or interest to the government. But these prime-age adult females could still be used. With their bodies, they could still repay the Regime for all the trouble that they had caused. They had a choice, of course. A prisoner could refuse and accept a slow, agonizing and gruesome death or she could choose to spend the rest of her young years serving as an unpaid whore, the government reaping either the earnings that she brought in or being able to use her as a tool of pleasure for their various political loyalists. With this as the prison administration’s prevailing philosophy, it was only natural that it would be here that the prisoners got their initiation into the world of sexual slavery.

Sgt. Henry Bains came from a family of ardent supporters of the Regime, but he surely hadn’t taken this job as a prison guard for the pay. In fact, his pay rate was quite low in comparison to other jobs that he could have taken with the government. His brother, for instance, earned almost five times as much at his government job. The real reason that Henry took and stayed on this job was the other benefits, namely the female political prisoners who filled the special cellblocks designated for them. Captive pussy was so much better. He could do almost anything that he wanted, as much as he wanted.

Tonight Henry was getting ready to enjoy a long night of hard fucking with the blond named Carol. Only two days before, Carol had used her podium as a promising young twenty-three year-old associate professor to lecture against the evils of the Regime and it’s programs. Now she cowered against the wall as Sgt. Bains began removing his uniform, his cock steadily swelling in girth and length.

“You and me are gonna get to know each other tonight, girl. Yeah, really, really good. I ain’t no college man or anything like that, but I promise ya that I’m gonna teach ya a lot of things before the morning comes. And don’t you worry, you’ll get plenty of chances to show me how well you’re learning.”

Nancy’s rapid descent to the deepest depths of degradation and humiliation had been keenly noted by her observers; experts at judging when a prisoner had been completely broken and was ready for further shaping and transformation into the complete sexual slave that she is destined to be. The last two weeks of the most savage physical and sexual abuse, Nancy Edwards now longer had a will of her own. Instead, she was one who immediately followed even the most outrageous orders and demands made upon her. Her sore body now responded on it’s own to whatever cock that invaded it; moving, bucking and undulating in it’s dutiful giving of pleasure to whoever was using it. The men had been come back for more, eager to again mount and ride this petite and thoroughly subservient whore who gave them what they wanted.

Now she had been judged ready to be moulded further by the women, the Mistress Guards, who came for her. Knowledgeable, experienced women who were experts at taking broken lasses like Nancy deeper into the world of life-slavery. She had no defences now, no stubborn ego or moral barriers to overcome. Instead of the rough treatment that she had endured from the male guards, these strange new women explored her with their firm fingers and their calm, but authoritative voices. They did not scream at her to please them, they simply pressed down on her shoulders and she kneeled. They wordlessly grasped her hair with a stern hand and she leaned forward to lick their offered pussies and clits. They would turn and bend over and spread their buttocks and she would rim their assholes.

The other female prisoners would be removed from here and transported to the next stop in their journey into forced whoredom. Nancy Edwards would not be going with them. She had exhibited those rare qualities that these emissaries had been looking for; rare qualities that destined Nancy for service to a more select and discerning elite.

Nancy did not question – or even read – the special document that the visiting Mistress Guards put in front of her to sign. She knew that she was expected to sign it, so that was enough. But the Mistress named Vana, the one with the salty-tasting anus, told her anyway.

“This is your confession of guilt, my lovely. This is your admission and your acceptance of your unworthiness. It clearly states that you wish to commit your body and soul – your life, itself – to nothing else except the pleasure of the Holy Sisters and all those whom they would have you serve. In it, you denounce your former beliefs and your former friends and acknowledge that your government was appointed by God himself. And that you are grateful that it, along with the Holy Sisters, has been so forgiving of your past sins and given you the chance to redeem yourself through a life of subservience. Once inducted, thought, there will no tolerance for even the slightest hesitation or disobedience. The penalty is being put into a pit of dogs to be devoured alive, so beware.

“Sign it now, Nancy. Sign it and deliver yourself to us. The Holy Reverend Nun herself has arrived and awaits you. She is so anxious to give you the honour of eating her Holy cunt in celebration of your new life…”

After Nancy finished signing away her life, Mistress Vana’s thick, aggressive, wet tongue invaded Nancy’s mouth, thrashing deeply at the back of her throat. The Mistress groaned as Nancy’s kissed her back, entwining her own slavish tongue with the older woman’s. Mistress Vana’s strong fingers pinched and twisted the girl’s abused nipples as she said, “After you have spent your time with the Holy Reverend and pleasured her, me and the other ladies will visit you tonight so that we can take turns letting you swallow our piss to help you remember us……”

The Holy Reverend Nun might have appeared as somewhat intimidating with her stern face, large stature and low voice, but with Nancy, at least, she was rather pleasant and cheerful. Upon meeting Nancy, the Reverend Nun had simply smiled, pulled up her habit and leaned back in her big, ornate chair and said, ” Come here, my pretty one. I hear that you are one of the special girls whom we always treasure when we find them.” She spread her legs, revealing her naked black pussy. ” My cunt has been wetting itself while waiting for you to kneel down and service it….”

The Reverend Nun sighed at the first touch of the girl’s lips and tongue on her clit. “Now don’t you worry, dear. I don’t expect you to be experienced enough to be able to satisfy me on the first try, but I’m very understanding and patient. So just stay down there and keep doing the best you can. In the future, your training will enable you to eat the most difficult cunts and suck the most reluctant cocks to orgasm with a few minutes if you want to. But right now, your sincere efforts will be enough for me…”

But Nancy was a quick leaner; the Mistress Guards had taught her some of the basics. It was quite a surprise to the Reverend Nun when Nancy managed to bring her up, then over the edge of a very pleasurable orgasm after about twenty minutes of licking and sucking. The Reverend Nun puffed on a cigarette passed to her by one of her hovering subordinates and grinned down at the girl. “Hmmmmmmm….Well, now, they were right about you; you are a quick study, aren’t you? I’m going to love having you service me after you get your training. That was good, but as you can see by the way my pussy is twitching, I’m ready for a lot more of what you just gave me – so get back to work, darling, and see if you’re able to give me some bigger cummings over the next hour or so while I interview the bunch of godless bitches to see if all of them are fit to be assigned to our regular training center.”

The Reverend Nun, smoking steadily and her pussy steadily serviced as she conducted her interviews with the scores of frightened female prisoners, was beginning to tire and her darkening mood showed it. Only the frequent orgasms supplied by the girl between her legs kept her from erupting into one of her infamous fits of irrational temper. Luckily, there were only a few more prisoners to be questioned and judged. Unlucky for Janice, the last girl to be interviewed by the Reverend Nun.

“You are the last one – finally!” The Reverend Nun took one last deep puff on her cigarette. “You trouble-making bitches take far too much of my time. It’s a good thing for you that the Church and the Regime thinks that you’ll eventually be worth something – because if it was up to me……” She stopped herself abruptly, glaring at Janice. ” Put out your hand. Now!”

As Janice put out her hand, the Reverend Nun grabbed it, turned the palm up and used it to extinguish her cigarette.

“Aaaaaaa!” Janice’s cry of pain at least was able to being a slight smile to the corner of the Reverend Nun’s mouth.

“Now that makes me feel a little better,” the Nun muttered softly.

The next morning was busy with activity as truck after truck arrived at the loading docks located at the back of the prison. And the air vibrated with the mixture of shouted orders, the crack of whips and canes and the anguished cries of confused and frightened women. The weather was appropriately overcast, matching the gloomy and depressed mood of the female prisoners who lined up, naked and trembling, waiting for their orders to march single-file into the dingy grey cargo trucks with the words, ‘Institution for the Rehabilitation of Women’ crudely stencilled on the sides. There had been no explanation concerning this place or it’s purpose and that further contributed to the sense of hopelessness and panic that gripped the ranks of the prisoners.

But Nancy Edwards would not be accompanying her former friends and the others to whatever a place this “Institution” was. She was at the loading dock area, but away from the others and in the company of the Reverend Nun and another nun who had come to meet them.

C>The Reverend Nun introduced Nancy to the new visitor. Nancy had never before seen such a nun; the heavy tattoos, the piercings, the outlandishly-colored hair. The pale, whitish skin and those hard eyes.

“My girl, this is High Sister Adriana. Sister Adriana is one of the aides to the Holy Mother herself, so you should feel very honoured by her coming her personally to meet you. The Sister has been charged by the Holy Mother with overseeing all the training of special girls like yourself.”

” Yes, you should feel honoured that the Holy Mother has sent me to personally fetch you and deliver you to her. You know, we have been constantly informed about you, about every little thing that you have done. I agree with the others that you just might be the right kind of girl that we like – after a good deal of intense training, of course. Tell me, girl, have you ever eaten shit?”

In the aftermath of the nearly – apocalyptic nuclear war called WWIII, the States and it’s vast South American colonies was now being ruled by a completely un-democratic elite mostly composed of industrialists, bankers and the military. All facets of civilian life were strictly controlled and the vast majority of citizens toiled along at near poverty when the elite were able to enjoy lives of pleasurable excess.

Of course the elite looked unfavorably upon the slightest bit of dissention from amongst the ranks of the downtrodden or those ‘liberal’ rabble-rousers who mostly tended to be concentrated in the universities and the ‘underground’ media.

These people were quickly ferreted put and apprehended without too much trouble; the regime’s agents and collaborators were everywhere. It was the policy of those in power to make use of every possible resource and in that vein, the more attractive adult females were given the choice between suffering a torturous death (usually being burned alive or slowly garrotted) or being pressed into sexual servitude.

The Regime, always careful to utilize every ounce of it’s human resources, had created a far-flung system of government – owned brothels and ‘sex resorts’ – and it staffed them with those unfortunate female political prisoners who had fallen within it’s foul clutches.

Free-lance prostitutes and whores were a thing of the past; the Regime quickly and brutally disposed of any who would challenge their monopoly on the sex trade.

“These ungrateful renegade bitches have caused the State to expend its time and efforts to battle their treasonous behaviour,” went the Regime’s rationale. “It is only right that these females be used to repay the State for all the trouble that they have caused.”

_____________________

The Institution for the Rehabilitation of Women was always receiving new female prisoners from all corners of the continent. Most were in the range of 18 to 25 years, but there were a few who were a bit older. The Institution, though, not only trained these former malcontents as sexual slaves, it also maintained it’s own system of whorehouses, sex clubs and large ‘sex resorts’. The money that the captive sexslaves brought into the coffers of the State was enormous, as it serviced the needs of the lowest common worker, the highest elite and the swarms of well-heeled foreign tourists who flocked to the States in order to indulge even in the most perverted ways – and do it legally.

The Institution preferred the prettiest prisoners available. Here, they would be broken, then retrained to serve the State in any manner that the State thought necessary. There would be no escape except by death and the discipline was strict and unforgiving. Over three thousand women were being interned and ‘re-educated’ here at any one time. Once deemed ready, three-quarters of them would be shipped out to serve in the government-run sexual centers located all across the continent and in its conquered South American territories. The other one-quarter would be retained here at the Institute’s vast property to ply their sexual servitude.

But before anything else, the Institute’s resident ‘Counselors’ had to inspect and interview each new prisoner and then designate her to the appropriate Section. The Counselors’ decision was based on the level of the prisoners’ physical attraction, their social/educational background, age and attitude. There were rarely any unattractive dissidents brought in; those had usually been quickly executed or forced into serving as fuck-pigs-in-residence at military barracks. But the Counselors were still very dedicated to their jobs. Of course there was the perk of being able to fuck any girl who he or she ‘interviewed’ in order to more accurately assess her potential. It was a tough and demanding job, but someone had to do it.

“Watch your step, child,” cooed Right Sister Harriet as she guided the tall brunette up the steps toward the waiting Counselor. “We don’t want you getting banged or bruised even before the Counselor’s had a chance to inspect that smooth skin of yours, eh? Now remember what we’ve told you; answer all questions truefully and obey all orders without question. Here, Counselor Bains, she’s all yours. Let me know when you’re finished interviewing this sweetie and we’ll send the new one in.”

“Thanks, Sister. This shouldn’t be taking long. I can already see that this one will be a good fit for the Senior Officers’ Hostel. They tend to like the taller ones with good tits on ’em. I’ll probably recommend that she be sent over to Section C for training; they’ll have her rounded up into good shape in no time. She’ll need to be especially fit to be able to take on those hard-to-please combat colonels and generals who take their leaves there.”

“C’mon up here, bitch and let me ask you a few questions and also take a close look at that pussy of yours to see if it’s tight enough for what I have in mind for you.”

Conselor Bains held his ‘interviews’ one right after the other – with only two pauses in between; first he just had to spend an half-hour letting a particular sweet-looking redhead prove her willingness to please by letting her give him a wet blowjob. The girl wasn’t experienced enough to be able to suck that monster cock of his to a quick cum. But that was okay; he understood that she needed more practice. So after he finally helped things along by jack off a thick wad in her mouth, he made a mental note to have her brought back for daily instructional sessions. The second time-out was taken in order to relieve a little built-up tension by using his oversized schlong to batter the tight cunt of that cute brunette with the ponytail. He loved how he had her crying for mercy under his brutal assault and how he was able to yank on that ponytail while pile-driving her aching vagina. But now it was back to the routine. At least until the journalist named Doreen Post’s turn to interview.

Doreen Post had been quite a celebrity in the news world; her hard-hitting expose-type television journalism had mad her famous and rich. Also a little stupid. She just had to stupid, Baines concluded, to think that she could continue to do feature reports that exposed the Regime’s deep-seeded corruption, human rights abuses and other less-than-positive doings by the government and the elite that ran it. Even though Post’s reports could only be broadcast in some overseas venues, it was only a matter of time before the Regime had stomached enough of her trouble making and came for her.

Baines was impressed; Doreen Post was 37 years old but looked like a young woman in her late 20s. And he could tell that it was all natural, no facelifts or silicon. And Bains was more impresses when Post immediately began beseeching him to please, please not separate her from her 18 year-old daughter who had also been arrested along with her.

“Eighteen years old, eh? Damn, bitch, you really were a whore early on,” Bains sneered at her. “Well, it’s your fuckin’ fault that she’s in here with ya. You should have thought about her before you started runnin’ off your big mouth. Now she’s gonna be an overused whore just like her mother’s gonna be. You know, they’re probably gonna send ya down to one of our whorehouses down in South America. They’re not as choosey about gals with a few miles on ’em like you. Your little girl will probably stay up here. But don’t worry, I promise I’ll make sure that she gets lots and lots of my personal attention before she gets sent out to work her ass. Or maybe one of our prostitutes will want to keep her as a wife. Get her all strung out on dope and keep her eatin’ prostitute asshole and getting her own holes used every night with those huge strapons that the workin’ girls like to use. Hah, hah!”

Bains enjoyed the stricken expression on Doreen’s face as he described what was probably in store for her and her daughter.

“…..Unless…” Conselor Bains let the word hang there, waited for Doreen to jump at the faint sliver of hope.

Doreen fell to her knees, her face pleading up at Bains. ” Oh, please! Please! Please don’t separate us! She’s all I have! It’s so unfair for her to suffer because of what I’ve done! I’ll do anything you ask! Anything!”

Bains chuckled, his mind already mulling over the different possibilities…. “I know you will. What’s your bitch daughter’s name?”

“Kerry. Her name’s Kerry! She’s outside with the others. Please!”

“Good.” Bains signaled over to Right Sister Elaine. “Sister, would you please fetch a Kerry Post from the prisoners outside and bring her in here?”

Miss Doreen Post’s first pleas concerning not being separated from her 18 year-old daughters were not quite good enough for Conselor Bains, so he made her beg again and again again. ” I want to hear you really beg me, you worthless piece of trash! You can do better than that! You better if you want to see your daughter again after today,” Baines had huffed. Yes, this was so much fun!

After a while, he was satisfied and relented – somewhat. He took off his trousers and pulled Doreen close against him. “Look at this super cock of mine,” Baines said to Doreen. “You ain’t never seen a cock like this before, have ya? Here, put your fingers around it and massage it and make it ready. I make every bitch scream and cry when I fuck ’em with it. You’re gonna be screamin’ and cryin’ too. And your lovely daughter’s gonna be screamin’ when I ride her, too. Now, we’re all gonna go downstairs to a little room where we all can spend some time without being disturbed. If both of you can please me like I want, maybe – just maybe – I’ll arrange for you two to stay together….”

Doreen and her daughter had endured the endless gang-rapes from the prison guards when they were first arrested, but none of those fuckings could compared to the ramming that both of them were taking from Conselor Baines. The Conselor had said he would make them cry and scream – and he was right. His megacock was more than a normal pussy and ass would take. He had fucked Doreen first and after finally pumping a big load deep in her protesting cunt, he had made daughter Kerry lick his balls then suck on that monster of a dick until it stiffened and swelled back up to size. Doreen felt so ashamed as she could only watch helplessly as her beloved daughter suffered from Bains’ prolonged attack on her painfully stretched butthole. Then it started all over again. Baines’ portly stature belied his almost superhuman virility. The man needed very little time between cummings to regain his impressive hardness and length and to be ready for yet another long, hard riding of one of them.

The Conselor had finished his latest screwing of Doreen’s daughter only a few minutes ago, flooding her captive cunt with yet another warm deposit of his sperm. Now he was back on top of Doreen and brusquely stuffing that giant sausage meat back into her tortured pussy.

“Thought you both would be able to please me real easy, didn’t ya? Heh, heh, they all think that at first. Then they all beg me for mercy. But you better not beg me to take it easy, if you know what’s good for ya. I want ya to beg me to hurt ya more with this here cock of mine!” He slapped her face hard. “Beg me, bitch! Tell me you want me to make you suffer! Tell me what a whore you are! Thank me for fuckin’ ya raw! Do it!”

And Doreen, knowing that she had no choice, said the things he demanded to hear. “Uhhhhhhh….!! Please hurt me, Sir. Make me suffer. Fuck me hard and make me suffer! I deserve it! I’m just a cheap whore. Fuck me hard…….!!”

“Yeah! Yeahhhhhh!” Her words drove him on to even a harder, deeper fuck-punishment of her cunt. “Buck those hips, whore! Push that pussy up to take everything I give ya! Yeahhhhhhhh…..Mmmmmm..!

The two Post women’s had spent three long and torturous hours being ravaged by Conselor Bain and his giant man-meat, the longest three hours of their lives so far. Their holes were all raw and sore and that indeed made the invasions of his cock torture to them. But to Doreen and Kerry, there was no other choice; it was either withstanding his horrific assaults on their bodies or the almost certainty of them being forever separated and no seeing each other ever again.

But both of them wondered how much more of Conselor Bains’ attention they could stand. The answer came as a shock….

Conselor Bains pulled his shit-flecked cock, still pulsing out another wad of semen, from Doreen’s suffering asshole and pulled Kerry’s head downward.

“You better not let a drop of this cum go to waste, whore,” he grunted at Kerry. “Be quick! Suck it clean, milk all the juice out of it! Uh-huh, that’s a good little bitch….Mmmmmmm. Like the taste of a cock that’s been up your mom’s ass? I bet you do, you nasty cunt. Ohhhhhhh…. such a good little mouth you got on ya….. And don’t you worry, you and your mom are gonna stay together. I’ve decided that I’m gonna keep ya both. Gonna make ya both my private pieces of pussy. I’m gonna be fuckin’ the both of you every night, just like I’ve been doin’! And my wife’s gonna love ya, too! She’s a fat, ugly old bitch but she sure likes puttin’ whores like you through their paces. Maybe we’ll take you to some parties and make ya do a mother-daughter act!”

Sometimes a Conselor’s decision on the best placement for a slave turns out to be just right. Conselor Jones had considered the background, temperament and looks of 20 year-old Prisoner Bernice and had concluded that she would be best suited to begin her service as personal ‘comfort whore’ in one of the Right Sister barracks. The Conselor had noted in Bernice’s dossier that she had spent her high school years at a convent school. How fitting that this prisoner would now have an opportunity to atone for her sins against the Church and State by dedicating herself to providing sexual and other personal services to overworked (and horny ) servants of God. A ‘Comfort Girl’ was always a useful addition to any Sister who didn’t wish to venture into the crowded Prisoner Dens to make a sometimes uninformed choice of female flesh or to cause the inevitable hard feelings that often resulted when a Sister used her higher position to pluck an appealing slave away from the clutches of her respective prostitute or guard overseer.

Bernice’s introduction to the Right Sisters at Barracks No. 3 was an immediate success and it was enough to bring tears to the Conselor’s eyes. Of course there were real tears in Bernice’s eyes at the moment – but that was easily understood. After all, Right Sister Ivanna was a rather intimidating woman to behold -especially when she was so up close and personal. At a towering 6 feet, three inches and with her heavy tattooing and piercings, some even called her frightening. Bernice was indeed frightened as Sister Ivanna and her trusty strapon were giving her a most enthusiastic welcome.

“Just relax, baby, and let your sweet Sister Ivanna teach you how she likes to fuck with her hard rubber cock,” moaned the tall Right Sister as she held a crying Bernice in place and the long artificial dick repeatedly plunged deep inside her with every forward thrust of the Sister’s lean but strong hips.

“All the other Sisters here are going to be loving you, loving you in so many ways – but I promise you that I’m going to love you more and love you harder…”

It was said that nothing ever happened at the Institution without the old woman known as the Reverend Mother Estelle being aware of it. And although very few people had ever personally seen the ultimate power of the Church known as the Holy Mother, it was well known that Reverend Mother Estelle was one of the Holy Mother’s first-cousins and a favorite, talking to her almost daily. In her heavily guarded upper suites that topped the Institute’s huge Central Administration building, the Reverend Mother’s daily routines were a mystery to all except the tight-knit and fiercely loyal inner circle of advisors and personal assistants. Of the Church’s four Reverend Mothers, Estelle was also the most feared, for it was said that only the Holy Mother herself was so ruthless and quick to anger if she was not pleased. It was also rumored that she kept a personal harem of at least a dozen of the more beautiful slavegirls especially culled for her from the many female political prisoners arrested by the Regime. The rumors were true.

The Reverend Mother was a woman with great responsibilities and as such, she needed the constant sootings that only the tongues and pussies of the eager-to-please slavegirls could provide. Her energy was more than that of a woman in her 20s and her body, though wrinkled at over 80 years old, glowed with health. The two or so orgasms that she experienced during her every waking hour served to keep her thoroughly robust and fit for her official tasks. Of course, all of this meant that her slaves worked hard at keeping her satisfied. Those who failed to give the Reverend Mother the cummings that she demanded soon were destined to end up as food for the large dogs that the Reverend Mother kept as pets down in the depths of the huge caverns that ran beneath the Central Administration building. The dogs were quite fat.

It was time for the Reverend Mother to examine and judge the latest addition to her harem. The new girl was a very attractive blonde named Fiona. The Reverend Mother needed to fill a vacancy in her harem, a vacancy that had just opened up within the past three hours.

“Your name is Fiona and you were the personal secretary to the recently-departed traitor, Senator Seinsworth, I am told. Is that true, girl? Answer me, there’s no need for you to be afraid.”

“Yes, Reverend Mother.”

“Well, girl, I am one who values personal attention, as you can see. You will be given the honor of helping to keep my clit erect and satisfied. And you will also be allowed to savor the varied tastes of my asshole. Now, I don’t expect you to be accomplished right away – after all, pleasuring one so esteemed as myself takes practice. But my patience is not open-ended, girl, so I advise you to devote your every thought as to how you might better your talents and serve me in the manner that I demand.

“Do not fail at your duties, as that little bitch behind me did. As you can see, I am not the type who is very forgiving. Now come here and take this girl’s place between my legs and show me what your lips and tongue can do. That way I can judge your shortcomings and decide what you need to improve on…”

For those prisoners designated to serve the Regime as ‘whoregirls’, the initial first step was being assigned to a Prostitutes’ Barrack in order to be more fully trained in the art of sexual service and servitude. Here, each new whoregirl was put under tutelage to her own Whore Mistress, who would teach her the proper attitude needed to survive in her new lifestyle.

The Whore Mistresses were all professionals; they were an important element in the Regime’s sex industry. Almost all were drug addicts and thus were never paid in actual monies for their service.

Instead they were supplied with a steady and reliable source of drugs supplied by the Regime; and in this, they were content with their lot and also thoroughly devoted to those who provided them with what they needed.

Given free lodgings in their barracks, these hardened and jaded hookers had a comparably stress-free and enjoyable existence. Furthermore, being given control over a whoregirl was another added benefit; not only for the pleasures that the slave was obligated to provide her, but also for the fact that a whoregirl could be destined to service the Whore Mistress’s customers in her place. In other words, each Mistress had the option to put a whoregirl to work in her place – with the Mistress getting full credit for the whoregirl’s chores as a fuckpig.

Each Whore Mistress, in essence, could be a ‘pimp’, with her assigned whoregirl doing the actual work. So it was not surprising that a incoming group of frightened and cowed whoregirls was a very popular occasion at a Prostitutes’ Barrack.

The new slaves were fought over, traded and bargained for by the Mistresses. Some individual Mistresses owned as many as a half-dozen or more whoregirls; other Mistresses sometimes for their own cartels and controlled whoregirl harems – consisting of fifty or more slaves who worked for them.

The main consideration was the amount of drug-credits each whoregirl could earn for her Mistress. The secondary factor was, of course, the sexual services that these whoregirls were obligated to provide to their Mistress or Mistresses; with the exception of food, lodgings and drugs, the only other consideration for the Whore Mistresses was sex. And here in these dank and crowed Prostitute Barracks, the air reeked of sex and was constantly filled with the sounds of throaty grunts of the Mistresses’ orgasms, the wet smackings of split-ladened kisses and the anguished groans of slaves as their pussies and anuses were stretched and pummeled by fists and forearms.

It was here in the Prostitutes’ Barracks that a new slavegirl learned her true place in life; it was here that she was truely taught the proper attitude needed so survive as a whoregirl for the Regime. While her body healed for the rigors of her initial pain sessions with the guards when first arrested and imprisioned, her mind and spirit was now being shaped here by her Whore Mistress. Here there was no priority other than keeping her Mistress happy and satisfied – given the level of jadedness of the experienced Mistresses, that was not always easy or pleasant. But there was no other choice outside the option of an tortured death, so there was no other choice than acceding to whatever demands made upon her by her Mistress.

Janice, a new whoregirl, had been assigned to Barracks No. 321. Whore Mistress 45897, young and somewhat lower-ranking in the Barrack’s hierarchy, had traded a full two drug-credits for ownership rights to Janice and was now guiding her new whoregirl through the ends and outs of showing the expected homage and respect demanded by a Whore Mistress.

“Wonderful. That’s the way, just concentrate of licking that shoe clean, every inch of it,” young Mistress 45897 instructed of Janice, keenly aware of the interested attention on the both of them by the older Mistresses. “Take your time, sweetie. I’m in no hurry. I want you to work your way all the way up to my cunt, but I want you to do it slowly and appreciate every inch of my feet and legs before I let you taste my wonderful pussy and ass, understand?”

The other Whore Mistresses nooded with approval as they watched No. 45897’s interaction with her new whoregirl. Yes, that was the way to do it. A whoregirl must learn that learn that being able to service a Prostitute’s cunt and asshole and to provide her with her deserved orgasms was a privilege that had to be earned; that to be allowed to give her Whore Mistress pleasure was an honor….

Of course, not all new slaves could be not expected to be as accomplished in the art of pleasuring their Whore Mistress in the efficient and timely manner that was sometimes demanded of them. Those whoregirls who were deemed as ‘deficient’ in this field were assigned to Pleasuring Classes in order to hone their skills. It was not that the Whore Mistresses were always in a hurry, but sometimes one needed her whoregirl to be able to quickly service her to an orgasm so that she could get on with an essential chore – like sleeping, eating or getting dressed. A Whore Mistress usually was addicted to her orgasms as much as her particular drugs. After all, outside of drugs, there was nothing else than sex.

A typical Prostitute, once she owned a whoregirl (or whoregirls), now only fucked a customer (male or female) if she wanted to, not if she had to. Therefore the immersion of a Prostitute into sex was almost total and the need for pleasure was strong and consuming. Some Whore Mistresses needed as many as three orgasms every waking hour to remain content; others, though only required cumming once every other hour – but those were usually the younger ones; the need increased with experience. As a result of this sexual addiction, outside of their sometimes heavy tattooings, most Prostitutes were also characterized by their perpetually and oversized clits.

Whore Mistress 76489’s swollen clit was now beginning it’s familar throbbing as she drew Janice’s face down towards it. No. 76489 had wangled and maneuvered for some time to get an Instructor’s position in one of the daily Pleasuring Classes. She enjoyed the wonderful sense of accomplishment that came from being able to teach new whoregirls the technical skills that they needed to satisfy their Mistresses. In her classes, she deftly instructed them in just how to get their Mistresses pussies to explore their juices within a few minutes. She also provided in-depth training in the art of the more involved and complete forms of sexual servicing of a Mistress’s holes when it was appropriate; there were times when Mistresses needed to be slowly serviced so as to experience one of those hip-arching, pussy-grinding, body-spasm orgasms that left them limp and trembling. Mistress 76489 had demonstrated that she possessed the relative patience and aptitude needed to be considered as one of the best Instructors at the Institute.

“Now pay close attention, bitches,” commanded Mistress 76489. “I want you to observe how my knob responds as my little student here follows my instructions. If she does it exactly like I tell her to, there is no reason why she won’t be able to bring me off within three to four minutes. I don’t expect her to get the hang of it the first couple of times – after all, using a tongue properly takes a few practices in order to get it right. But she’s gonna be able to give me a nice “O” in just a few tries. After you’ve seen her do it a few times, you’ll try it with the assistant who’s sitting behind you. She’ll help you to correct what you might be dong wrong and tell you if you’re doing it right. Now don’t hesitate to ask questions; you want to do well here, I’m sure you don’t want to a whip or paddle to punish you for being a bad student, do we? Remember, at the end of class each of you will have to take your turn eating me to a good cum before I mark you as having passed this class.”

In the three weeks that she had been assigned as a whoregirl, Janice – or ‘ whorejanice’ – had been traded between Whore Mistresses four times; a testament to her attractiveness looks and attitude. Now she was the property of Whore Mistress 65555, a mid-ranking Prostitute who was determined to make whore Janice a long-range development project; one who would whored with care and forethought and eventually traded up in return for three or four whoregirls.

There was already an undercurrent of interest in the girl that made her a valuable asset for any Mistress who owned her. Better to obtain rights to her now before she became that hot commodity that Mistress 65555 sensed that she was destined to be.

Already 65555 had been approached by one of the older, higher-echelon Prostitutes who had expressed an interest in the whoregirl for purposes of marriage. That in itself was testimony to whore Janice’s value; a Prostitute who wished to take a slavegirl as a wife was usually willing to depart with a generous dowry of drug-credits and whoregirls in exchange for a girl she wanted to serve her as a lifeslave.

Most of the ranking Prostitutes kept a couple of the most attractive and desirable whoregirls as slavewives; slaves who were generally taken away from regular duties in the various Sex Houses operated by the Regime and reserved for the exclusive of their particular Whore Mistress.

In a way, being a slavewife could be just as demanding as being whored in a Sex House; a ranking Prostitute Mistress was invariably jaded from her sexual profession, it was not always easy to satisfy her cravings.

The more experienced the Prostitute, the more perverted the forms of sex needed to keep her content and fulfilled. Most often this meant a good deal of the kind of sex rumored to be favored by the Holy Sisters; the kind that featured complete degradation and the more unimaginable perversions. But that was for the possible future; here in the present, Mistress 65555 was readying her whoregirl, whore janice, for her first bit of real customer service……

“Don’t you be afraid, honey.” Mistress 65555 was feeling so good; the girl’s tongue rimmed the inside of her asshole after having had licked and sucked her clitoris to the most wonderful orgasm. “Your first couple of days won’t have to be spent being fucked by dozens of cocks inside a Sex House. I’ve arranged for you to be a kind of ‘advertising gal’. You’re gonna be making the rounds, putting on displays outside the Houses so that it gets the customers’ attention and gets ’em excited and ready to spend their hard-earned credits on the pussy inside. There’s gonna be a good-lookin’ and very hung stud named Carlos partnered with you, so you and him will be puttin’ on a good fuck-show at each stop. Don’t you dare fail me girl, okay? Don’t make me look bad. Now I had to convince Maria here to let you take her girl’s place doing these exhibitions. Maria’s the House Matron and she’s been watchin’ you for a while and says always wanted the chance to see how you would take her strap-on up your ass if she had the chance to use it on you. So I want you to be real nice to Maria and thankful for the opportunity that she’s gonna give you today….”

“Si, I’m gonna love you real nice with my rubber cock, whore.” Maria’s fingers stroked the contours of the huge dildo attached to her strap-on. “Stay right where you are, my lovely piece of tail. Keep that position. It’s perfect for us.” She began to attach and fastened her trusty strap-on. This slave was so cute, Maria had wondered how the slave’s face would look as the huge artificial cock was slowly pressed into her asshole, the expressions on her face as the pain raced to her brain. She had to see it for herself.

“On second thought, let’s go into the other room. There’s a big mirror behind the couch and I want her looking into it while I’m fuckin’ her….”

After enduring the repeated anal assaults from Matron Maria’s giant strap-on, taking Carlos’ thick cock up her ass was not so much a torture for whore Janice. But it still hurt; Carlos was muscular and strong and he was determined to attract the crowds by showing them the kind of hard fucking he was capable of. The deep, brutal pounding of her rectum caused whore Janice to moan in distress and that lured more onlookers forward to watch the scene that was happening in front of the entrance to Sex House 127H; more potential customers who, after being excited by the fervid sex show put on by Carlos and whore Janice, would decide to step inside the House in relieve their frustrations.

Whore Kanice’s Mistress had outfitted her in appropriate ‘ fuck-slut ‘ attire in order that she would look the part, but it was clear by her chained collar and the way Carlos roughly slammed her holes and the way she obediently accepted and gyrated her hips against his thrusts that she was a slavewhore.

“Uh, uh, uh, uhhhhhhh….” Whorejanice couldn’t help but react vocally to Carlos’s continued punishment-fucking. Bent over and braced against the wall, she gasped as he pulled his dick from her ass and jammed it in her pussy and began pounding again.

“Oooooo….Uhhhhhh…Ahhhhhhiiieeee….” More jolting, deep ramming. Her cunt aching, sore….

From the near distance, the smirking, sneering comments and cheering on by the growing sidewalk crowd. Whore Janice’s shame was so complete….

“Mmmmm, you bitch….you no-good little bitch….,” Carlos grunted hoarsely as his thick piece of lard continued it’s hard probing of her sore bottom. Whore Janice couldn’t help but cry out in agony as she felt the man’s cock digging deep into her colon with maximum force. The pain in her asshole was excruciating and she wanted it to stop, but she knew Carlos would not stop until his lust was fully satisfied.

The on looking crowd was really into it now, cheering them on.

“Give it to her, man! Tear that ass up! Show the bitch who’s the boss!”

Finally, after over a half-hour of non-stop fucking of whore Janice’s obliging pussy and anus, a sweating Carlos could hold himself back no longer. “Aaarrrgggh…….” His hips slammed forward, his balls firmly against her buttocks as he emptied his warm load of semen up her asshole.

The crowd erupted with glee. Quite a few of them had open their pants and had been jacking off at the sight. “Damn, the buy sure knows how to fuck,” someone commented.

“Look at her, look at her face. She loved it! Yeah, she’s a real whore, alright.”

The day’s fifth and last stop on Carlos and whore Janice’s outside exhibition tour was at Sex House 1274B. By this time, the girl’s pussy and asshole were raw from all the hard fucking from her virile partner. But Carlos was ready for more of what his slave partner had to offer and once again, in front of another crowd of greedy-eyed spectators, he was jolting her body with his cruel assaults. Each Sex House had it’s own personality, so for this location, whore Janice was exhibited naked and natural. But the fucking was the same, and so were anguished moans that came from her.

“That’s fine, whore. That’s fine. Just keep bent over like this so you can take my dick deep every time.” Carlos, very aware of the pain that he was inflicting on the slave, was intent on putting just a bit of extra power behind each thrust. His own moans were moans of primitive pleasure and wanton arousal that grew ever louder as he plunged into her captive rectum again and again.

The whoreslave named Janice whimpered now with each slam of Carlos’ cock, but from her day’s experience with his fucking style, she could sense that he was getting close to the point where he could not resist from shooting his load. She tried her best, given the difficult bent-over position that he commanded her to maintain, to move more in rhythm with the cock thrusting into her from behind, hoping to spur him on to a quicker orgasm. She tried to relax her sphincter muscles, but nothing seemed to help relieve her of the pain being inflicted upon her raw-sore ass.

The crowd, mistaking whore Janice’s struggles and squirmings as acts of passion, roared with shouts of encouragements. “Oh yeahhhhh, baby! Move that ass! Show us how hot you are!”

One of the Sex House’s big female guards smiled as she observed the exhibition being put on by Carlos and the slavewhore. Yes, the crowd was excited and growing more and more restive watching the stud power-fucking the slave. And after the show was over, the House would get many of them coming inside…..

Given the nature of the Institution and it’s varied Sex Houses, it was not surprising that relationships amongst the myriads of restive and scheming Whore Mistresses created an atmosphere in which few things were stable or permanent regarding ownership of whoregirls. This was especially true for whore Janice. Just within a few days of her being traded for by Mistress 65555, she now found herself imprisoned and bound in a strange room in a part of the Institution in which she had never ventured before. And another strange, swarthy-complexed woman who had entered, undressed, and without a word, begun to lashing whore Janice with a short whiplet.

” Just be still and take it,” the strange woman said calmly as she continued to whip the girl. ” The sooner you are still and accept your punishment, the sooner I will stop hitting you.”

The slavegirl forced herself to be still and lay immobile, sobbing quietly as the visitor kept at her whipping, each blow becoming a bit harder than the last one. ” Yes darling, yes, yes…Keep still for your Mistress. Show her what a good little girl you can be….”

After another fifty or so hard strokes from her whip, the strange woman finally relented. ” There, that wasn’t so bad, was it? You don’t have to admit that you want more of it, but I know you really do – you just don’t realize it yet.” The woman waved off the comment that whore Janice was going to make; it was clear that whatever the slave had to say was of no consequence in the scheme of things.

” I was instructed to obtain you from the Prostitute who ‘owned’ you. I am Miss Sadon and I’ve come to take charge of you. It’s been decided that you have the qualities that my bosses are looking for – whatever that is….. In fact, now now that you’ve been put in the proper frame of mind, a couple of them are waiting outside – very impatiently, I’ll bet – to meet you. Now you just relax while I invite them in…”

Miss Sadon’s two bosses were the type who wasted little time in getting right down to the business at hand.

“This her? This the bitch they told us about?” The portly one asked the questions in a harsh hurried manner, much like the manner in which he was getting out of his trousers.

“Yeah, this is the one, Senor Martinez,” Miss Sadon answered, a wry smile as she watched him begin stroking his cock.

“Good. I see that you’ve already let her know how she’s expected to act. Good, good.” Mr. Martinez stepped in close and roughly flipped the girl’s legs and hips so that she was positioned on her side. “Now let’s have at that little asshole of yours, girl.” He brusquely begin forcing his dick up her anus, hurting her unnecessarily.

“Mmmmm, not bad. Ass is still tight.” Senor Martinez turned to the other man who was already massaging his own meat while he watched.

Senor Martinez began his own hard, rapid fucking of whorejanice’s tormented anus.

“You’re a lucky little puta ,” he said. ” We’re gonna make you a star. Our snuff films are popular all over. People just love watching sweet gringa blondes being ass-fucked by one of our giant-cocked studs before Miss Sadon here cut’s their throats…..”

In the new sex-based economy of the New Order, the role of the Sex Club was essential in that it served those who felt uncomfortable with the typical crude atmospheres that prevailed in the neighborhood Sex House establishments. The Sex Club was a bit more ‘sedate’ in its surroundings and the security for it’s clients. The level of credit/money might be a little steeper, but the advantages of a more attractive offering of slave-whores and of less crowded accommodations were often the major selling points. Also, the Sex Clubs were more diverse in that they were organized to appeal to different levels of class and specializations. Some Clubs catered to the working class, others were designated for the needs of the middle-class and others still more for the appetites of the upper class and elite customers.

There were Clubs strictly for lesbian sex; some for S&M. In the extreme, the Regime had also sanctioned the creation of a more deadly genre of Club entertainment referred to as ‘ Finality Clubs’; establishments that offered the opportunity to live out one’s fantasy of being able to actually not only enjoy the most extreme sex with the slave-whore of their choice – but also the thrill of taking her life afterwards. In spite of the fees charged, the Finality Clubs suffered no lack of customers; in fact, the main problem was keeping up with the demand for enough slave-whores to service the needs of the clients.

The Morass District Sex Club was always full. Located just adjacent to a major industrial working-class district, it operated 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The slaves sent there for service duties rarely lasted more than a few months before they were used up and then sent down to serve in the crass Sex Houses.

Former college students Regina and Susan were just into their first day of duty at the Morass Club – a place very different from the upper middle-class surroundings from which they came. Such big mouths they had when they were ranting and demonstrating against the government only a month or so ago. Now those big mouths were being put to good use. Susan’s mouth was stretching as much as it could as it struggled to fit around that wide cock that belonged to the steel worker who had saved up enough credits to afford the services of two whores at once.

“Uh-huh….. yeahhhhhh…. feels good, whore – but keep on working that mouth down and see just how much dick you can fit in it. Down worry ’bout throwin’ up – your pretty friend here will swallow your vomit for ya.”

The Morass Club’s ‘Orgy Room’ afforded a less crowded atmosphere than those offered in the Sex Houses. Limited to no more than a half-dozen couples at a time and overseen by a Matron, the room allowed more a chance for getting a more intimate fuck out of the slaves. A customer often would ask his captive partner her name and background before or during the enjoyment of her holes. After all, knowing that one was fucking a former student or secretary or businesswoman often made using an debasing her all the more enjoyable.

At the moment, Horance was cuddling up with a cute freckled-faced blond with large tits. Horance was in no hurry – he had two hours’ time reserved for the Room. The week had been hard; working the huge furnaces that helped produce the Regime’s badly needed industrial machinery served to leave a man exhausted at the end of the week. But not too exhausted to take advantage of the delights readily available at the Morass Club. And certainly not too exhausted to give this blond troublemaker the hard fucking that she deserved.

“What’s your name, bitch?” Horance grasped the sobbing slave tightly, feeling the nice contrast of her smooth, tender body rubbing against his rough, hairiness.

K – Katherine, sir. M-m-my name’s Katherine…”

“Why are you here, Katherine? What’d you do to get your pretty little ass sentenced to being a whore here? Tell me, birch and you better not lie…”

“I passed out pamphlets telling about how the leaders were not concerned with the needs of the people, sir……”

“Then you’re as stupid as you are guilty, ain’t ya? ” Horance’s cock was lengthening as it rubbed against Katherine’s thigh. He was almost ready now. ” Well, your ol’ Horance is gonna help ya atone for your sins…..now, a gal’s like you just gotta have a nice, tight little asshole. Why don’t we see how much of my dick I can ram in it the very first time, huh?”

Horance chuckled at the girl’s whimpering as he shoved his thick, wet tongue in her ear while beginning to shift her on the mattress. His shaft was already leaving a trail of pre-cum on her leg and back as he pressed her down.

“You gonna be a sweet piece of ass, Katherine. I can tell…..”

Viewed by status, the Garners District Sex Club was only a little above that of the Morass Sex Club. Its customers were mostly from the ranks of the administrative and office workers who toiled within the vast bureaucratic dens housed in the huge Administration Services office towers nearby. Whereas the Morass Club’s mostly catered to males, the Garners Club’s customers were almost evenly split between males and females.

It was no surprise that women were just as likely to patronize the club; after all, they needed to release their pent-up tensions as much as their male counterparts did. The drudge-work of overseeing the enormous amount of paperwork that helped keep the Regime’s government working and up to date was both hard and pressure-filled. Sometimes only the pleasures provided by a pretty and completely subservient slavewhore was enough to give an overworked civil servant the relief needed to endure yet another long week of relentless bosses and endless forms and mundane documentations demanded by distant, faceless superiors.

A paid session at Garners entitled a client to three hour’s access to whatever delectable pieces of slave pussy he or she wanted, assuming that slave was not being used by someone else at the moment.

This was enough time for a client to enjoy a more leisurely pace in extracting whatever pleasures he or she wish to experience; the thinking behind this being that being able to more completely savor what a slavebitch had to offer worked to keep a loyal employee much more happy and content than the brief, momentary and quick-fading glow brought on by a desperate spate of rutting sex caused by a looming time restraint.

This allowed a customer like Mr. Romer to casually take his time getting to know a captive slavewhore like Sophie. Mr. Romer might be only a nondescript sorter in the Administration Mailroom during his working hours, but here at Garners he could be sexually accommodated like royalty.

Sophie’s face and body was as exquisite as any magazine model and her hands were soft as she obediently stroked Mr. Romer’s rock-hard cock while nervously returning his spit-covered, deep-tongued kisses.

It was so hard for Sophie to keep from flinching as Mr.Romer’s insistent fingers began probing, then slowly working their way inside her pussy. She could her the muted giggles that came from a couple of Romer’s fellow office workers as they looked on this erotic scene.

“Looks like our boy Romer’s gonna be enjoying himself again,” observed the female worker. “I swear, the man must spend almost all his credits in this place.”

“How would you know?” retorted her male co-worker. “Unless you’ve been here just as much as he has.”

As in most things, the sexual and emotional tastes and demands of the male and female customers of the Garners Club tended to differ. And, also as with most astute businesses, the Club recognized those differences and incorporated it’s offerings so as to satisfy the cravings of each group.

The men, as usual, tended to have preferences that were quite simple and basic: tight and willing pussies and assholes to fuck and willing mouths to milk and swallow one’s frenzied sperm loads.

The women clients, on the other hand, often had needs that were more subtle – but at the same time, much more perverse and decadent in their nature. Nothing was more indicative of this than the Club’s rather unique Women’s’ Toilet arrangement.

The Women’s Toilet at the Garners Club was quite popular with the female patrons. And why not? It took a usually thankless and mindless chore like using the commode and transformed it into something that was a most enjoyable and unforgettable experience.

This was accomplished by the Club’s offering of the “Toilet Girls” – in essence, toilet slaves. These Toilet Girls had no other duty except providing their utterly servile mouths and throats for the reception and swallowing of the women customers’ esteemed piss and shit. Any reluctance or refusal on their part guaranteed a most horrible death tied and slowly burned at the stake or in one of the big ovens especially built for the task.

It made using the restroom an experience to be looked forward to, indeed.

This was Toilet Girl Marianne’s first night of service at the Club and it looked like Miss Colette was going to be her very first customer to service. Restroom Matron Estelle was in charge of matching the toilet slaves up with the different clients who lined up quite patiently to make use of an enjoyable restroom piss and shit session. There were two dozen slaves assigned to work the toilets and Matron Estelle made sure that everything went smoothly.

The Matron made the introductions. ” This is our new girl, Marianne. Marianne, you will have the honour of being Miss Colette’s toilet. Miss Colette is one of our best customers, so I expect you to do a great job at taking every brown and golden that she provides you, understand? Be a good toilet and make her happy, my dear – just like you’ve made me happy while training you.”

“C’mon, baby. That’s our commode right over there.” Miss Colette’s breathing was rapid as she wet the side of her toilet slave’s face with her wet tongue. She always looked forward to using the restroom at the Garners Club and her anticipation was heightened even further by being the first customer to deposit her shit and piss in the throat of this sobbing new slave. Miss Colette had had plenty to drink while having her cunt licked to orgasms by the three slavewhores who had serviced her so far this evening. And the big after-work meal that she had eaten was now ready to work it’s way out.

She would take her time and let her urine stream out slowly, enjoying to the sounds made by Marianne’s throat as she struggled to catch all the sharp-tasting yellow liquid spurted out by her superior.

After that, the sounds would be different; coarse, halting sounds of gagging and revulsion as the slave’s mouth and throat laboured to catch, chew and swallow the thick, putrid turds that Miss Colette would pulse out of her ass.

“Yeah, you’re gonna love it, girl. I know you’re gonna do a great job with that pretty mouth of yours. Such a pretty mouth. Just made for eating my shit. Now, after you’re in position, you make sure that you keep your lips tight against my snatch so you don’t spill any of my piss and then fit your mouth right against my asshole when I’m ready to shit, okay? That way, all you have to do is just work your throat and you’ll be able to swallow everything just by gulping. Then you’ll also be able to stick that tongue inside my ass and clean it so I won’t have to use up any of the Club’s toilet tissues.

“C’mon, be quick now – you don’t want to keep me waiting.”

In many ways, a slave’s service as a Toilet Girl was an excellent training regime in the ways absolute subservience. Frankly, there were very few other methods that were as effective as toilet service as a tool to assure the stripping away of almost every remaining vestige of foolish pride and self-esteem. The managers of the more extreme Sex Clubs and the producers of the government-sanctioned pornography industry were particularly fond of using ex-Toilet Girls for their operations; these slaves’ background of total humiliation served to make them perfect for those popular sex shows and videos in which they would humbled and degraded in the utmost ways. And since the concept of having ‘house slaves’ was fast becoming fashionable, many potential owners had begun to look upon a slave’s duty as a Toilet Girl as a valuable indicator of the kind of servile mentality that made a slavegirl ready for service in the home.

One such case was that of 21 year-old Michele.

Michele’s former background as a courier for the anti-Regime underground had initially marked her as someone who to be looked at as a risk when being considered for duties for anything else except as a fuck-whore in one of the lower-class Sex Houses or, worse yet, as a candidate for shipping down to finish her life being used by the crude miners and laborers in one of the many South American colonies.

Michele had been spared being dispatched to such an unpleasant fate only because of her unusually petite, girlish looks and that appealing, tight body that was accented by the most appealing perky and upturned breasts. Michele had been manhandled and rape-fucked by the biggest and roughest cocks around, but nothing seemed to completely rob her of her spirit. But it took only a week of toilet duty in the Garners Club Women’s’ Restroom to begin to strip away the last vestiges of Michele’s sense of self-worth.

The special depravity of hour upon hour spent gulping superior women’s’ piss and foul excrement had gradually left her without any pride, only a vacant and utterly hopeless acceptance of her inferior place in life. Her despair had been noticed; already a discreet inquiry had been tendered to her overseers and quiet talks had been held concerning possible compensation. After all, the wife of a ranking Regime senator was someone who warranted attention when she indicated an interest in something, anything. Like having a cutie like Michele as her own private household toilet….

Michele had no idea that this would be her last day of toilet service at the Club, that she would be taken at the end of her shift and transported away to start her new life as the personal Toilet Girl of the demanding wife of a powerful Regime politician. Right now, she could only tend to her duties, her particular duty at the moment being the using of her obedient tongue to lick and suck a Superior Woman’s asshole clean. Another slave had done the actual piss swallowing and dung-eating and it was Michele’s turn to function as the Superior’s human toilet paper.

“Ummmmm….Oh, yes…,” the Superior groaned. ” Such a nice, warm tongue you have…..Uhhhhhhh. Don’t stop, sweetie. I know I must be clean by now – but why don’t you slip that tongue back up my ass just to make me feel good, mmmm? I’ll see if I can work some more turd down so you can suck it out. Ohhhhhhh…..so good…….so fuckin’ good! Here’s some more shit for you, I think….yeah, I can feel it moving now……..Uhhhhhhhh……can you taste it, sweetie? Uhhhhhhhhh…..”

The rates charged at the Medows Sex Club were higher, but then it was an establishment that tended to attract it’s membership mostly from the ranks of the Regime’s police and other enforcement agencies. Medows membership also was predominately male, although there was a mild sprinkling of females – mostly wives and girlfriends – who attended the goings-on there. There had been some whispers, some vague reports of extreme sadism and other, more lethal forms of entertainment being practiced upon unfortunate slavewhores at Medows, but those rumors had been largely unconfirmed and denounced as dastardly attempts at defiling the fine reputation of the Club’s management. “We’re in the business of providing a safe and comfortable environment for those numerous antisocial females to have the opportunity to repay society for the time and expense of their incarceration and rehabilitation,” said the press release put out by the Club Office. “Any reports of harmful activities being practiced upon our prisoners are nothing but vile slanders being spread by unlawful elements who resent the all the peaceful progress that our wonderful government has brought the people.”

Of course, none of the clientele seemed to be bothered by dark rumors concerning any unhealthy behaviour at the Medows. As far as they were concerned, the only thing of note at the Medows Sex Club was sex – and the almost weekly additions of new slavewhores to provide it.

Wednesday afternoons were the usual time that new sex-prisoners were delivered to the Medows Club. Mr. Reagan, the club operations manager, made sure to be there in order to inspect the incoming cargo of fresh fuck-meat and make sure that they were all of quality and up to the standards that the Medows prided itself on. Reagan preferred to put the new pussy out for customer use on Friday evenings, so the two preceding days could be fully utilized by he and his loyal staff in the most intimate inspection and judgement of the incoming talent. Slavewhore No. 12 was one new talent who would surely pass muster in terms of physical attractiveness. But there were other considerations, of course….

“Well, Yolanda certainly seems to approve of No. 12,” observed Mr. Reagan, talking to one of his more experienced Club Matrons. “What do you think, Ms. Wilson?”

“Oh, Yolanda just has a weakness for tight, young pussies, Mr. Reagan. The girl looks good – but I think that I’ll need a few hours with her in order to give you a more accurate opinion…..”

Slavewhore Bernice definitely showed promise while being inspected and assessed by Arturo, the Club’s janitor. Arturo might be the man who cleaned and scrubbed, but at Medows, all staff was considered part of the family – and Arturo’s opinion would be considered just as much as any of the higher-placed staff members. As it was, Arturo had definitely been right when he deduced that Bernice’s long, trim body would naturally be limber and flexible. Acting on his honed instincts, he had taken Bernice down to the small alcove that had the special wall strappings especially placed for the activity that he had in mind. Bernice, as expected, had groaned with distress as Arturo fastened her protesting body in the rather contorted position that the strappings demanded. She started to emit a different kind of distressed groan as Arturo, kind and thoughtful man that he was, slowly began to push that fat dick of his into her very exposed cunt…

“Ohhhhh….Uhhhhhh….” Bernice’s moan was anguished. Her pussy was so totally exposed and vulnerable in that contorted position that she was fastened in – and Arturo’s fat cockhead was slamming against so many tender walls….hurting…..shocking….. Her back and legs muscles also spasmed in pain….

” Si, puta, si…..such a shallow little pussy you have! I’m gonna keep you just like this so you get every inch of me while I give it to you hard, eh?”

But Arturo wasn’t as cruel a man as one would think. An hour and a half of hard-fucking Bernice in that contorted position was quite enough; after all, he had emptied his gonads at least a half dozen times while enjoying digging his raging cock in the very deepest recesses of the girl’s pussy and ass. He was patient and did not complain when Bernice collapsed to the floor when he released her from her wall shackles – in fact, being the considerate person that he was, he merely climbed on top of her, spread her legs and fucked her again. Arturo included his opinion to Mr. Reagan, the Club manager, that slavewhore Bernice passed the test as far as he was concerned; that she would definitely give the Medows’ customers what they wanted.

“Hmmmmm,” replied Mr. Reagan, when informed of how the slave had endured her time shackled in the uncomfortable position against the wall. ” Do you think that she could function as well if she was given a bit more pain? You know, the kind that some of our more discreet customers like to inflict on special occasions?”

” Well, sir, she did buck her hips just like I wanted her to when I fucked her on the floor afterwards…”

” That sounds promising, Arturo. Tell you what. Why don’t you keep her for the rest of the night down in the far basement and see how she holds up under some of your more ‘forceful’ attentions? Always good to know if we have a natural painslut on our hands….”

Bernice’s body shuddered and winched under Arturo’s hard use of the small leather whiplet. Her pitiful cries and pleadings did nothing to make him relent. But she needn’t worry – before very long, the insistent urgings of Arturo’s cock would become too much and he would be forced take a brief respite in which the pain from his whip would be replaced by the pain inflicted by the cock.

The Medows treasured the patronage of it’s clientele; especially those esteemed members of law enforcement whose tireless and dedicated efforts kept the government and it’s supporters safe from all those misguided and unrealistic souls who meant harm. There was nothing more that the Club’s management liked better that hosting one of the many private receptions given to celebrate a recent promotion or the capture of a particularly important fugitive.

Sergeant Janson’s promotion had just been announced two days before and now he and the other members of the Central City Anti-Subversive Activities Squad were in the midst of a fairly raucous party that would last into the early hours of the morning. The Club supplied the booze and the slavewhores; the policemen had only to bring the money and their cocks. And being men who often were forced to use harsh and brutal methods to acquire the information that led them to the political fugitives that they sought, it was only natural that their sexual ways might often tend to be brutish. Sergeant Janson’s black cock looked particularly brutal to slavewhore Marlene as he walked her towards the small room containing the bed on which he would be fucking her throughout most of the night; as brutal as the way he had already used his belt on her just an half hour or so earlier. “We gonna have a lot of fun together tonight, bitch… I promise you won’t forget it for the rest of your fucking life!”

At the Medows Club, ‘customer convenience’ was a concept that taken very seriously. In the course of attending an orgy or perhaps just spending time with the slavewhore of one’s choice, sometimes the call of nature came quickly; sometimes too quickly for a man to manage to make it to one the the toilets in time. This was not an uncommon problem at the Medows Club, especially given that the preponderance of it’s customers tended to consume a larger portion of alcoholic drinks than at most other clubs. As with any society, those involved in law enforcement here often drank as hard as they played. No one begrudged them this; the importance of their service to the Regime was very much appreciated and any way to relieve their stress was well understood and supported.

Mr. Reagan, the Club Manager of Operations, had arranged to place one slavewhore in each of the larger rooms which accommodated a group of people. This particular slavewhore was not placed there for reason of provided sex. Instead, this slave was designated as a “Piss Whore”; put there specifically for the convenience of customers who didn’t have the time or the inclination to race to one of the toilets to urinate. The Piss Whores were easy to spot, given their trademark ring gags and their being tightly bound and chained to a wall.

Sergeant Janson was having too good a time to be forced to put on his pants just in order to walk down to the restroom located at the end of the long hall. He had just finishing ass-fucking his third bitch of the night and he was ready for more. Looking around the room and seeing captive Piss Whore Felica sitting chained by the door certainly solved his dilemma.

“Better keep that pretty head still, bitch,” the Sergeant ordered. ” Remember that you gotta lick up any of my piss that gets on the floor…”

Mr. Reagan was a man who actually lived for his work. While other staff members left for their homes at the end of their shifts, he could usually be found somewhere on the Club grounds attending to this problem or overseeing some improvement to that operation. Although he had been offered the opportunity to be promoted to one of the highly coveted regional or even national-level management positions on several occasions, he was very content to remain here at the Medows Club. Some speculated that Reagan might have some sickly or particularly need some relative in the area and that might be why he preferred to stay in the area. Others hinted that it might be a case of a lack of self confidence . But they were all wrong. Reagan preferred to stay here at the Meadows Sex Club because of the almost absolute freedom it afforded him in the indulgence of one of his more ‘unusual’ personal interests. Indeed, having some of the Regime’s better cops and enforcers as frequent customers – very satisfied customers; Mr Reagan saw to that – had resulted in a certain level of protection.

In his off-hours, Mr. Reagan liked to hear the desperate pleas and then the desperate cries of slaves as they suffered and died. Though the diligent and creative efforts of his longtime lover, the chief auditor of the Bureau of Prisons, the raven – haired Miss Marlen, there had been certain slavegirls delivered to Mr. Reagan at the Club. Slaves whose names somehow had curiously been dropped from the prisoner rolls or had been listed as being shipped down to the South American colonies ( where most slaves simply disappeared).

Miss Marlen seemed to be a frequent guest of Mr. Reagan at the Meadows Club, mostly staying there with him through the weekends. Most observers noted that they made quite a handsome pair, while others also noted that they seemed to share the same interests and have a lot in common. And they were right, even more that they could have known: Miss Marlen certainly liked the same things as her boyfriend.

Miss Marlen leaned close and whispered to Mr. Reagan. ” Which one do you want to do first? This cute blond who’s working on that cock of yours? That black-haired one over there? Which?”

” I thought it’d be nice to watch you have your fun this time, sweets,” Reagan whispered back. “Why don’t you kill all of them while I watch? I’d really enjoy seeing them scream and beg you while you make them watch you kill one after the other…”

“Mmmmm. Oh, yes. I’d like that very much. Is that butcher knife still in your desk over there?”

” Yes, but let’s wait until this pretty bitch is done sucking me off before you start. Hate to have my dick bitten off…. Heh, heh..”

It was the policy of the Regime to be merciful – at least somewhat merciful – when it came to dealing with the more attractive female political prisoners. Therefore all those condemned ladies who qualified were given the chance to go before an Interviewer to plead her case as to why she should be spared the normal method of execution, of being slowly burned alive. It was not a case of a condemned girl avoiding being executed; it was only a matter of how she would eventually die. Needless to say, most of the prisoners wanted to avoid the hellish end of being roasted. Almost anything would be better. There, in one of the small, dank Interview rooms at the Institution, these girls pleaded to be given the chance to show their sincere appreciation to their captors; to be given the chance to somehow earn whatever mercy that might be bestowed upon them. The Interviewers were always a high-placed female official of the Regime (after all, it was the policy that only females could dispatch another females) and these women Superiors demanded to be convinced of a prisoner’s worthiness for mercy and just how that prisoner would demonstrate her thankfulness for that mercy.

Condemned prisoner Miranda wanted to demonstrate her complete remorsefulness for her past antisocial activities and her worthiness of being spared being burned alive. Her earnestness and sincerity had touched the heart of Miss Renderman, the State’s Interviewer in this case.

“So, child, you do acknowledge that your Superiors have been right all along and that the things that you did and said against them were crimes that deserved your penalty of death?” Miss Renderman needed to be sure of this girl’s repentance.

“Yes, Miss Renderman, I acknowledge all that and beg for the opportunity to show how sorry I am and for the chance to repay all of you for any mercy that I might receive.”

Miss Renderman shifted in her chair to lean back and pull up her skirt. She was wearing no panties, of course.

“Then you must be very anxious to demonstrate how much you want to get down on your knees and lick my wet pussy. To show what a good girl you will be for the remaining days of your pitiful life…?”

“Yes, Miss Renderman, I do. I want so much to show you…”.

Once a condemned prisoner had shown herself to be contrite for her past wrongs against the Regime, she was labeled a ‘Repentant’ and her remaining time on earth would be spent at providing her body to be used for pleasure by her Superiors in any way they deemed necessary. A Repentant’s services was highly sought after by the Regime’s female members; the thought of having one’s every sexual demand fulfilled by a prisoner marked for death could be highly intoxicating. A Repentant was considered to be the ultimate sex slave; to be satisfied by a Repentant was also a matter of taking a part of her life force. The Repentant would never know when or how her death would come – or if her abilities at satisfying every sexual whim of her Superior ladies would serve to prolong her life.

But there was usually one constant: The first stop for a new-declared Repentant would be with Right Sister Coleen in that large basement room downstairs at the Institution. It was practically a tradition now that Sister Coleen would start the new Repentant’s final life journey with her allotted three hours of the Sister’s experienced whip. Then, with her body aching and covered with welts, the Repentant would kneel to service Sister Coleen’s sweating pussy and asshole with her repentant tongue. Then there would be the servicing of all those Superior women who had been invited to witness and participate in starting her out in her Final Duties.

Repentant Miranda’s time had lasted over four months, quite a long time for a Repentant to stay alive. Whether this was a matter of her earnestness and abilities at giving the most intense and reliable satisfaction to the many Superiors’ demanding pussies would never be know. After all, part of the allure of the Repentant program was it’s randomness and unpredictability; of the prisoner not knowing when the end would come. Usually a Superior was granted the pleasure of dispatching a Repentant as a reward for merit or some extraordinary service. Such an honor was not one to be wasted in some mundane violent act; instead the dispatching of a Repentant called for it to be done in a memorable, ironic fashion – something that others would remember fondly and talk about.

Miranda had started to think that perhaps she might be able to live indefinitely. Her willingness to do everything asked of her and her demonstrated abilities at giving some many, many orgasms to all those who used her had given her hope that perhaps, just perhaps her fate be moderated somehow. This glimmer of hope on her part had been noticed and that been what Right Sister Vivian had been waiting for.

The Repentant prisoner Miranda’s last day was spent with Right Sister Vivian and her two close friends, Sharonda and Sylvia. Miranda’s last moments had been spent licking the big black Sharonda cunt to one hell of a quivering orgasm and then Sharonda had pulled the girl’s mouth tight against that pulsing, dark pussy and said,

“Here, baby, you done such a good job that you done made your ol’ Sharonda have to pee! Fit that pretty mouth around my cunt so you can swallow every bit of it as I let it out, okay? Ahhhhhh…. Here it comes…. Keep gulpin’, girl…..That’s the way…. So good, baby….So good…!!”

As Miranda opened her throat to accept all of black Sharonda’s gushing piss, she was unaware of Right Sister Vivian’s silent approach behind her, the big killing knife in her hand.. Sharonda saw what was about to happen and could barely contain her delight; Sylvia realized it too. The end would come so suddenly. With her throat still holding vestiges of black piss in it, it would be abruptly exposed as the Sister grabbed and jerked back her hair. And as the big knife’s cold steel sliced deep into her throat, one of last things that Miranda would remember would be the strange guttural sound made by Sister Vivian. The sound of the Sister experiencing an intense, ongoing orgasm…..

At one time, Dorthy Simmons had a lot to offer society; a talent for writing, a quick, strong mind and equally strong convictions. Unfortunately for Dorthy, the new society in which the Regime ruled supreme wasn’t one which valued any openly-expressed strong convictions or opinions that ran counter to it’s own. Therefore, it was only a matter of time before the authorities came for her. Now Dorthy Simmons, condemned for her refusal to accept the new order and her rather naive public efforts to undermine it, could only cater to the opinions of others. Others such as Right Sister Olivia and her prostitute wife, Evette, two Superiors who would be in judgment of Repentant Dorthy’s willingness and ability to please…..

“Mmmmm.. that’s a very nice tongue you have there, my little repentant girl. Nicely shaped; not too wide and with a fine taper to it. Very good for slathering a clit or fitting inside an anus. Yes, dear you show a lot of promise. What do you think of our little Repentant Dorthy here, Evette? Think that she prove that she’s worthy of our time?”

Evette examined the prisoner up and down. ” Well, the body’s alright, I guess. And I’ve had prettier gals do me real good back at the barracks when I was there – but her face’s okay, I guess. She looks like a real proud sort of bitch to me, the kind who used to look down on me…”

” Now, now, Evette! Don’t be so judgmental! Give the girl a chance! I’m sure she’s going to do everything she can to show you that you’re wrong about her, won’t you dear?”

“My friend is so skeptical of whether you deserve mercy or not, sweet girl,” said Sister Oliva as she continued to examine Dorthy’s promising tongue. “But I’m sure that you’re going to convince her as well as I, that you are the most delectable little pussy-eater. Why don’t you get to your knees now so you can start giving my clit the attention it deserves, huh? Now don’t make me regret my faith in you, sweetheart. I’d hate to have them come to take you to the ovens to roast you like some piece of beef, wouldn’t you? Then after you please me, I’ll let you please my wife Evette here. She’s harder to satisfy than I am, so it’ll be fun to watch you work at it….”

As one of the Regime’s veteran state-sponsored prostitutes, Evette was a woman who had practically seen and done it all. And as such, Evette was not an easy woman to please. Her pussy and asshole had been serviced by the tongues of a thousand women, both free and captive. Her toes had been sucked wetly, her eager nipples thrilled and her shit swallowed by the mouths of countless girls who had begged for the chance. So just how was this new Repentant named Dorthy supposed to be able to pleasure those very experienced, jaded openings and erotic locations of Evette’s body? It was not a case of Evette being non-feeling and difficult; it merely was a case of her being a very hard woman to please. Sister Olivia could do it, of course, and do it quite easily – but the Sister was one whose sexual experiences had equipped her with a knowledge of women’s bodies and how to make them scream in ecstasy and leave trembling lumps of exhausted flesh. But the Sister was the wonderful exception. This young Repentant was not.

Maybe it was plain jealousy that made Evette shift and fidget with frustration and impatience as she watched her esteemed wife put Repentant Dorthy through her paces. Perhaps it was resentment at how this pretty young captive was able to follow Sister Olivia’s most perverse instructions. Was that why she looked away when the Sister shook with her third orgasm while squatting heavily on Dorthy’s face, her head thrown back as she let out a deep, throaty moan of the most intense animalistic pleasure? Was it how the Sister remained seated with her full weight on the girl’s face, smiling, her eyes almost closed as she gently gyrated her hips over Dorthy’s mouth as Dorthy produced muted, wet, smacking sounds as she slurped the Sister’s still-flowing vaginal juices? Whatever the reason, when it was her turn with the girl, Evette’s inclinations were not some much towards getting pleasure as much as it was to inflict the most intense humiliation.

Evette was curt and abrasive with the slave when it was her turn with her. She sapped Dorthy’s face hard, knocking her back to the floor. “You little worthless bitch, I didn’t give you permission to stand up, did I? Keep your ass down there – that’s where you’ll be spending a lot of your time!” As the frazzled Dorthy complied with her harsh order, Evette positioned herself over her.

” You think you’re something, don’t you, bitch? Don’t bother to lie, I can spot it a mile away. The Sister might think you’re special, but I’m going to show you just how low a piece of garbage you really are! Open that mouth, cunt! Open it wide! The first thing I’m gonna do is piss and you better not miss a drop of it! You understand me? Yeahhhhhh, bitch here it comes….. You like my piss, don’t ya? Yeah, all the low-class whores like you like to drink my pee……… Uhhhhhh… Keep drinkin’, bitch. You know, I’m gonna make it a point to find you every day and piss down your lovely throat.

“But I’m getting ahead of myself, ain’t I? ‘Cause soon as I get through peeing, I’m gonna put those filthy lips of yours right up against my asshole and I’m gonna wank myself off while empty my turds into your mouth. And don’t worry if you can’t eat my shit as fast as I let it out – you’ll be allowed to get down on your belly and eat anything that drops to the floor….!”

All good things have to eventually come to an end. Repentant Dorthy’s tenure had last almost a month. In that time, she had become very well-known and very popular. For some reason Dorthy had gotten the reputation of being an accomplished shit-eater. Superior throughout the Institution had begun to seek her out – not for the sexual service that she could provide, but to use her as their human toilet. There had even been a couple of Institution-wide lotteries in which hundreds of people placed bets on how many Superiors could squat themselves over Dorthy’s captive mouth and feed her the shit from their bowels before she could take no more and fall to the ground retching. The winner was Sister Vandermere, who had a tie-bet of eight shit-loads and a tie-breaking time of twenty – three minutes. Dorthy had become despondent and depressed and that in itself was a signal that the time to dispose of her would be soon in coming. Perhaps that what drove Sister Olivia’s wife, the prostitute Evette to seek Dorthy out three to four times a day in order to piss and shit in that accomplished mouth instead of her once or twice-a-day visits.

The end for Dorthy came on early on a Saturday morning. As Dorthy obediently licked Sister Ida’s pussy to orgasm and then gulped down the last the Sister’s stream of warm piss, a sharp knife wielded expertly by the Institution’s head receptionist, Miss McGowen, sliced into her throat. Miss McGowen, who had silently slid in behind the Repentant Dorthy keep a firm, even pressure on the knife as she applied it from left to right in a single motion. Miss McGown had never killed anyone before – but she had always wanted to.

“Ahhhhh….,” Miss McGowen groaned wistfully as she felt the knife cut into Dorthy’s windpipe. Very much like cutting through soft butter, she thought. It felt so good.

“Today will bring new tests and provide you with new experiences,” High Sister Adriana remarked to Slave Nancy. Although another slavegirl was busily slurping her pussy, the High Sister’s demeanor was calm, almost cold. “Of course, it will be likewise for all the other new girls here, but I will be personally attending to your activities – so don’t disappoint me, my sweet one. Just because I have a particular interest in you does not mean that I will tolerate anything less than total effort on your part.”

The High Sister nodded towards the other older woman who lay in the huge bed on which she sat. “This pretty lady here is Miss Claudia, a very close and long time friend who has heard so much from me concerning my dear, cute Nancy; how her tongue pleases and satisfies all a woman’s special places. I must say that I might have gone on about you a bit much, but I’m sure that you’ll do me proud and show Miss Claudia that I haven’t been exaggerating about you. I’m going to stop my little bitch her and take her into the other chamber so that she can finish up what she’s started. You two can be alone in here and just get well acquainted with each other. Don’t make me hear that you have provided my good friend with anything less than the fullest pleasures possible. I’d hate to start of the day having to punish you severely!”

For the other slavegirls also under the High Sister’s supervision, the day would entail many tasks and tests. Some would be new, others would be very familiar. The Superiors were not unreasonable when it came to what was planned and expected of their captive charges. Abuse for abuse’s sake was not at part of the training – except for the normal pain and distress inflicted for the pleasure of the Superiors. These slaves had been selected to be the providers of pleasure and satisfaction to the elite ladies of the Church’s Sisterhood. The fact that they were held in the complex that housed the Holy Mother herself was the prime indicator of the importance placed on their duties. Those who could demonstrate their aptitude for their assigned sexual tasks would be well cared-for and given the opportunity to live on there for the rest of their lives, usually as lesbian slavewives taken in marriage by one or more Sisters, High Sisters or some of the highest-placed assistants or staff. Those who would be unfortunate enough to be judged as failures in their duties would be quickly dispatched off as slavewhores in the South American colonies or given to the Prostitutes or worse, taken to the Roasting Ovens where they would suffer a most horrible, slow death.

But despite all it’s intricacies, the training of these special slavegirls was designed towards a very basic goal: the giving of sexaul satisfaction. And when all things were considered, it was mostly acquiring and perfecting the ability to lick Superior pussy and clit, to tongue – out Superior anus and to unflinchingly drink gallons of Superior piss and to eat and swallow Superior shitloads. All the other facets of submission; the spanking, canings, bondage and mental abuse, were secondary in importance.

Slave Torry was one of those beginning her day with more practice. Helping her achieve a higher level of proficiency at the art of eating pussy were Miss Patterson and Miss Ortiz, two Administration Staffers who were so kind as to volunteer their off time. Torry’s task was to be able to bring a Superior pussy to orgasm within five minutes, an absolutely essential ability when called upon to be the focus of entertainment at any large Superior social gathering, party or orgy.

So far, the slave had been able to eat Miss Ortiz to a quivering orgasm in seven minutes. Not bad, but also not good enough. Now she frantically licked away at the offered clit of Miss Patterson who sat on her chest.

“Now, don’t slather around so much, girl,” Miss Patterson muttered firmly. “Focus at using the tip of the tongue and keep the pressure up as you move it against my knob. Uhhhhhh…..that’s better. Now set a rhythm and keep it unless I tell you to change it

Yes…..Yessss….better. Much better….”

Although she had been repeatedly raped anally when first arrested and imprisoned, slave Dorthy still had some difficulty accommodating a large cock up her ass. Right now, she was suffering under the rude assault of Judge McKeason’s long and rather wide cock as he gleefully went about enjoying himself to the fullest. The High Sister regularly arranged small orgies attended by ranking Regime officials. Such intimate gatherings were considered to be essential in maintaining good relations between the mostly secular government and it’s allies in the official Church. The almost weekly fuck-fests were eagerly attended by all those officials eligible to be invited. Conducted in the utmost privacy, these parties/orgies usually lasted throughout the night and those Superiors taking part always make full use of those compliant slavegirls provided to them.

This was slave Dorthy’s first orgy duty and as a new face, she attracted quite a bit of attention from the guests. The attention that the Judge was giving Dorthy’s tight asshole was just in line with his temperament; his dick crassly pushed it’s way into her rectal in one

merciless shove and began immediately to pound back and forth. He cared not one bit about the slavegirl’s distress; he enjoyed what he was doing and that was that. His ruthless jack hammering against Dorthy’s behind was done with the same lack of compassion that he exhibited in his courtroom when sentencing the many helpless political defendants brought before him. And like all those defendants, poor Dorthy had no choice but to stand and take whatever he was giving her.

High Sister Adriana chuckled as she watched Dorthy struggling to maintain herself as the lusty Judge continued to slam his cock up her ass. Yes, the Sister thought to herself, the girl just might make the grade; become an accomplished slavewhore.

“Now, girl, don’t just stand there bracing yourself, that won’t make it easier on you,” the Sister advised. “Give in to it, girl. Let that big shaft of his do it’s thing. Move your ass, rotate back against his cock. Oh, yes, Dorthy, that’s better. That’s going to make him cum in no time….”

For those slavegirls who were judged not quite worthy of service to the Sisterhood’s elite, but who had clearly impressed the Sisters with their efforts, there was some measure of relief from the more dire fates of other unsuccessful candidates. After all, a slave who had shown that she was sincere in trying to be what was expected of her and had the mentality of a submissive who would do her best to please was too good a commodity to suffer an inglorious sentencing to a Latin whorehouse, servicing a hundred crude miners or laborers a day or ending her life screaming in agony as the gas-fueled fires of the ovens burned away her flesh. There were quite a few forms of service easily filled by those in-betweeners who just couldn’t make the grade.

Slave Beatrice had failed at becoming one of the relatively pampered Sisterhood slavegirls; no matter how hard or how often she tried, Beatrice’s tongue just couldn’t quite manage to bring a Superior to orgasm in short time. While others had dutifully satisfied at least three Superiors’ pussies, Beatrice would be just bringing pleasure to her first. ” That girl has an incredibly slow tongue,” one judge wrote in her report. ” Slave Beatrice is by no means lazy or uncooperative – it’s just that, no matter what, she just can’t move that tongue any faster. But her heart’s definitely in the right place in that she’s sincere in realizing her past antisocial behavior and wishes to rectify it by service to the State.”

And now slave Beatrice would be allowed the chance to service the Regime. Miss Linda was in if the ranking female guards who were entrusted with the protection of the Institute’s Administrative complex. A big, unattractive and hulking woman, Miss Linda had grown tired of getting pleasured by frightened, forced and whipped slavegirls. Miss Linda was ready for a life-partner, someone who would be exclusively hers. Someone who would be there to worship her bloated body; to please her sloppy pussy and ass.

Beatrice, sweet and earnest Beatrice, had been offered to Miss Linda in marriage. The huge woman didn’t have to think twice about it. Having a pretty 22 year-old female who maybe took a half hour to eat her to orgasm wasn’t so bad a deal; after all, in her personal time, Miss Linda was not one to be hurried, anyway….

The marriage ceremony that united the petite slavegirl Beatrice and the supersized, fat Miss Linda in matrimony was well attended -but brief. Miss Linda had made it known that she was anxious to get down to the business of training her new slavewife in the ways of providing her with the many pleasures and enjoyments of permanent sexual servitude. The Rosewood paddle had been a nice wedding present from all the friends and co-workers. And as she steered her slavebride into her small private bedroom, Miss Linda would be immediately putting her wedding present to good use….

In ways of the Institution, every slavegirl had something to contribute to the new society, no matter what it was.

Slave Nina had originally been deemed unworthy as a sexual servant to the Sisterhood and had been sentenced to die in the Roasting Ovens located in the vast bottom level beneath the Administration complex. Her physical appearance had been admired but the Sisters determined that her attitude showed reluctance to accept authority and an unwillingness to acknowledge her past sins against the Regime. In her panic at learning her fate, Nina had frantically appealed to the judging Sisters to spare her life. She had begged on her knees after crawling across the floor on her stomach; she had opened her throat to swallow down the shit of a dozen Sisters at an impromptu gathering; she had collected a half-gallon of the Sisters’ piss in a jar and had drank it all as they watched and jeered. In the end, Nina had debased herself so much that the death sentence was rescinded and she was instead assigned to be shipped off to South America to be a participant in one of the Regime’s newest schemes for repopulating the ranks of the workers who were suffering great losses of life from the heat, tropical diseases and toxic sickness from the Regime’s many uranium mines.

The Regime experts had estimated that for the economic future of the Latin colonies, an additional ten million workers had to be ready to replenish the ranks with the next twenty years. In response , the Regime had set about implementing a birthing program in which thousands of slavewhores and other female political prisoners would be forced-bred in order to bear children. Each woman would be expected to produce at least five or six children before being granted their relative freedom. It was here that Nina found herself relegated to being fucked by a dozen or so carefully-selected worker studs each day until she was judged to be pregnant.

“What’s the matter, gringa? I thought you girls were used to the best up there in the States,” sneered one of the brown-skinned attendants who were in charge of overseeing Nina’s breeding activities for the day. ” Damn, bitch, he only has half his cock up that white cunt and already you’re making a fuss! C’mon, Manuel, you might as well just push her back flat and fuck her. Put it to her as hard as you want, just don’t injure her like you did that Indian girl last week, okay? Ride this puta like you ride me and we’ll have her puttin’ out babies like one of those stupid village wives in the country!”

For those slaves who seemed totally unworthy, death in the Ovens was a likely destination. The Ovens didn’t care how beautiful a slavegirl was. They all burned the same. They all screamed and cried at the top of their lungs as the flames licked, then began to slowly destroy their flesh. The Ovens didn’t care and neither did the women oven workers who were in charge of escorting the condemned slavegirls into the oven and fastening them firmly to the thick, cast-iron posts that would hold them in place for the six flame pipes located around the base.

There were so many touching cries and calls to one’s God or even to some non-present parent as the burnings took their toll. To maximize the agony, the flame output had been designed to delay death for twenty minutes or so. Microphones were placed in order to transmit the horrible sounds or the victims throughout the vast complexes of prisoner holding – pens so that they all could hear the fate of those who didn’t meet the Institute’s standards. A devious method that worked wonders in securing the majority of the prisoners’ complete cooperation.

Sometimes a Superior would get permission to take slavegirl down to witness the Ovens’ operation for herself. Nothing worked better to guarantee a slavegirl’s complete cooperation and devotion than having her see another prisoner suffer and die from the flames.

Madame von Troiss nuzzled her slavegirl’s tearful face as they watched the attractive blonde who was bound in place in the Oven chamber start to writhe with pain from the roasting of her lower legs. The condemned girl’s amplified screams filled the room; louder , then more loud…..

” Mmmmm….,” The Madame murmured against her slave’s cheek. “Isn’t that your friend, the girl you attended college with, my dear? Claudia, I think, is her name. Am I right? Too bad. Such a pretty girl. But so stubborn and defiant. You and I will stay here and watch her suffering – and then we’ll go back to my suite, to my big bed where you’ll show me how thankful you are that I have chosen you to be my devoted bride….”

“Enrico Gaspar was the third-oldest sibling of the Gaspar family group that was in charge of one of the Regime’s smaller breeding farms located in it’s colonial South American territories. As with a lot of other Latins, Enrico secretly resented being just another colonial servant of the North American – centered Regime’s far-flung Empire. However, in his capacity as an overseer, Enrico did have a chance to engage in some sort of revenge against all those pale-skinned Anglos who tended to look upon and treat him and his fellow Latinos as inferior and untalented. His duties entailed seeing that the imported white-skinned female slaves were fucked thoroughly and impregnated so as to provide a future supply of laborers to serve the Regime’s needs – so Enrico made sure that the first baby-making sperm that the most comely slaves received upon their arrival at his South American camp was his.

“Uhhhhhhh….you puta, ” Enrico groaned as he pumped his first heavy load of cum deep within the pretty American blond’s pussy. “You bitch….You going to have your Enrico’s baby, I’ll make sure of that….”

The Anglo girl’s tears only served to spur more convulsing of Enrico’s balls and more semen to fill her.

“Move those hips, puta, and make sure that Enrico’s sperm is all milked out….”

Raul, Enrico and Ria Gaspar were never at a loss for things to do at the Gaspar Breeding Farm’s heavily-guarded and barbed- wired compound. After all, how could things be dull with the presence of over a hundred Anglo female breeding slaves and with more new ones arriving every week? And why should those mostly black breeder studs be the ones having all the pleasure and fun? No, the Gaspar siblings, along with other members of the Gaspar clan, had the right to do whatever they wished here, as long as the monthly pregnancy reports showed that a steady supply of babies would be on the way.

Raul tended to be the most critical examiner of slave flesh. Ria, the oldest and a big, lusty dyke who never could get enough, was not as selective. She just loved pale pussies and those soft pink lips that the slavegirls learned to use so well under her tutelage.

Both were just as obsessed as Enrico with the joys that their positions entitled them to.

“What do you think of this one, Ria?” Raul’s hands slid over the slim and perky body of a frightened 19 year-old slave just imported in the last few days. “Haven’t had a chance to get at this one, eh, Enrico? Well, she looks line a fine little piece, one who’ll put out at least a half-dozen babies in a short time if we keep her busy….”

“I don’t give a shit about that,” huffed Ria as she rudely pried into the slave’s shaved pussy with her big fingers. “I just want to see what she can do for me. Got a nice mouth on her. Think I’ll put her with the other pretty thing that I’ve reserved for myself tonight.”

Ria Gaspar preferred her slavegirls to be between 18 and 20, fair-haired with trim bodies and cute faces. She loved handling them roughly and using them roughly. At one time, Ria ran her own small chain of brothels on the outskirts of Lima, but this was far more enjoyable for her. Her younger brothers might resent serving the Regime’s Anglo patrons, but Ria thought it was an ideal situation. An ideal situation and an ideal opportunity to be able to fulfill every need and experience even her most extreme, secret fantasies. Not that Ria’s fantasies were all that extreme; Ria might be somewhat large in stature and perhaps a bit rough around the edges, but her needs were mostly basic. She loved the feeling of power that came from having a beautiful girl obligated to follow every order that Ria would give and dedicated to satisfying her every sexual whim.

Ria, ever addicted to the heady feeling of power, had a particular fondness for using her harnessed, hard-rubber strap-on. These Yankee slave-bitches were all a bunch of promiscuous sluts, were they not? And being the lowly, nasty little whores that they were, what was more natural than Ria making sure that their pussies got all the attention they could take? Men were so fragile, their cocks tended to so soft after cumming. These poor slave-whores were so deprived! Ria Gaspar’s strap-on didn’t go soft; it stayed rock-hard and it’s slamming was limited only by Ria’s endurance – and Ria, despite her hefty size and advanced age, still had a lot of endurance. In fact, there was nothing she enjoyed more than a sweaty, intense forty minutes of fucking a slave’s cunt and ass.

These poor slave-whores were so deprived! Ria Gaspar’s strap-on didn’t go soft; it stayed rock-hard and it’s slamming was limited only by Ria’s endurance – and Ria, despite her hefty size and advanced age, still had a lot of endurance. In fact, there was nothing she enjoyed more than a sweaty, intense forty minutes of fucking a slave’s cunt and ass. The Anglo cunt named Fiona was about to find that out firsthand.

“C’mon, bonita, don’t be afraid,” Ria cooed to Fiona, firmly steering her to the edge of the mattress. ” Your Senora Ria is going to take care of you tonight. I promise you will scream my name as I give you the loving that you deserve….”

The Gaspars were simple and straightforward people; they ran a human breeding farm for profit and pleasure. The Americanas that were shipped down from the North were simply pretty wombs ready and available for fucking and impregnating. The Masters weren’t concerned about the treatment of these slave-whores. As long as they were kept healthy enough to bear children, these captive females could be used by whatever Gaspar that wanted them and in any manner that they deemed fit.

Nan, only two days at the Farm, attracted Raul Gaspar’s attention. ” Damnmit all,” Raul exclaimed. ” How could I have missed this one? Take her off the waiting line. Who was scheduled to stud her? Oh, Miguel? Shit, that big dick of his can use some other cunt instead of this one. Unhook her and bring her to my cabin…”

Of all the Gaspars, it was Aunt Rosa who had the most unpleasant personality traits. Aunt Rosa’s needs and preferences tended to tilt towards the more painful aspects of sexuality. Humiliation of a cute Anglo slave-whore was somewhat enjoyable, of course – but Rosa needed more; in fact, she couldn’t quite seem to fathom up one of her body-shuddering orgasms without the shrill and desperate screams of her chosen slave-whore ringing in her ears. She had first been introduced to the sadistic arts while employed by her nephew Raul’s drug-running operation. Sometimes one of Raul’s business

partners would get a bit greedy and hold back or cut back on the quality or quantity of the cocaine or heroin that was purchased or sold. Aunt Rosa soon demonstrated her knack for extracting every last vestige of information from whatever dishonest scum who had been foolish enough to try and cheat the Gaspars. She had developed the routine of first making the crook watch as she went about applying her torturous techniques on a favorite member of his family. Especially a pretty daughter. Even the toughest men soon cracked and ended their silence and duplicities after being faced with the sights and sounds of a daughter’s loud agonies at the hands of Rosa Gaspar.

Now it was this breeding farm’s offerings of sweet, pale flesh that allowed Aunt Rosa to continue her adventurous ways of Sade. This was her second trip here this week and along with her long-time girlfriend, Aletta, Rosa finally found a girl that appealed to her. Rosa loved girls with large, full breasts and prominent nipples – especially nipples…..

“Pretty girl, did you enjoy me sucking and biting on those nice pink nipple-buds of yours? I hope you did, because I sure did. Love your nipples, honey. Love ’em so much that I’m going to snip them off and take them home to add to my collection.”

So many things for a new Anglo slavegirl to do if relocated to South America. Music and history, for instance. A slave might not appreciate it at first, but sometimes she might have the opportunity to explore the arts.

Slave-whore Jean was given the chance to escape the unpleasant life of a perpetually pregnant brod-whore confined at a breeding farm by a chance visit by Right Sister Jour. Sister Jour was taken by the yellow-haired American girl’s innocent looks, tight body and her clear, lilting voice. “I am invoking my right to take this winsome young cutie away from this dreary place,” the Sister had intoned. And even the Gaspars knew better than to defy one of the Right Sisters.

At Sister Jour’s quarters, Jean soon learned the history of her new surroundings. Indeed, this new place had served as a 17-century Spanish fortress and their old furniture and martial equipment was still displayed there. The Sister had a fondness of the antique “iron maiden” chamber and loved how it never failed to inspire a new captive to aspire to be the best that she could be. At the moment, Jean was certainly inspired to sing that songs that Sister Jour had insisted that she learn from the old, antique songbooks supplied to her.

“Now sing me another song,” Right Sister Jour ordered. “Sing it for the ears of me and my friend here. Better not miss a note, girl; you know how much these old songs mean to me. Sing loudly and sing well, my dear. Don’t disappoint me and force me to have my friend push the door on you…..”

“Life in the Regime’s South American colonies was hard, frantic and brutal. The system there was in constant need new female slavewhores to service the vast (and underpaid) ranks of skilled and unskilled workers and laborers who toiled in the mines and fields. The Regime had established a system of officially – sanctioned sex houses throughout the territories so that the system of supplying sex could be done in an orderly and controlled manner. Sanctioned sexhouse operators were usually given wide freedom in how they ran their establishments, as long as they managed to give the workers what they demanded. That meant that almost each sexhouse had it’s own way of doing things. Some treated their slavewhores relatively well; others treated theirs as disposable slabs of human meat.

“El Pedro House” intentionally established itself as a sexhouse that catered to the rougher type of customer. Their slavewhores didn’t last as long, but their business was booming as it catered to workers who liked to mix a little bit of ‘mistreatment’ in with the hard fucking of those captive pussies. And to further indicate to potential customers just what kind of sex was being offered inside, the “El Pedro” owners had the novel idea of using a slavewhore as an outside ‘living advertisement’.

“You’ll get only the finest cunt to fuck and have fun with. You can do what you like with our whores. Nobody will ever complain!”

‘El Pedro’ House’s live-in Madam was an ex-prostitute by the name of Cortina, a woman who took her job very seriously – mainly because she enjoyed it so much. Her pay wasn’t all that much but with free lodging and ample food and drink, Cortina was quite content. Part of that contentment was from the fact that she could freely practice her overwhelming lesbian desires to the fullest and practically without limits as long as her compelled slavewhores were not injured or otherwise prevented from their sexual duties. A new arrival at El Pedro Sex House, in Senora Cortina’s thinking, would function much better after being subjected to a few days and nights of proper ‘reorientation’ . The owners knew that this was merely an excuse for Cortina to indulge herself, but they went along with it since she was so good at managing the day-to-day operations of the whorehouse.

Senora Cortina, with her ever-present short riding crop in hand and her pussy practically overflowing it’s juices, always made sure that her newest victim would immediately learn to both fear and serve her.

This new slavewhore from the States, Ariel, had been shipped in just a day before – but already she had felt the wrath Cortina’s trusty crop and tasted the muskiness of Cortina’s offered cunt. Now the Senora was ready to for more….

“Si, sweet bonita, you’re showing that you’re a fast learner. That’s the way, my little puta, kiss my little whip – show your Senora the proper respect that she deserves from you. Kiss it slowly, lick well it with that soft tongue and maybe I will grant you the honor of being allowed to using it on my esteemed pussy again. Hmmmmm…that’s the way……..

“Now I want you to beg me to let you eat my cunt – and I want you to ask me to whip you afterwards. You must beg me to whip you so hard and so long that you pass out. Do your begging very well, dearest, or your Senora Cortina will be forced to hurt you far worse than you can ever imagine…..”

The El Pedro Sex House’s reputation of tolerance for a coarser brand of service not only attracted like-minded males, but also aroused the interest of certain females who were quick to take advantage of the rare opportunity to indulge. The women who came to El Pedro hailed from all sectors of the local society; some arrived with their husbands or boyfriends; others came discreetly, ushered in through the back entrance so thoughtfully provided by the House’s management. Most came not for sex, but to be able to gratify themselves from the infliction of pain and abuse on an especially selected Yankee slavewhore. The unfortunate girl chosen by one of these sadistic women tended to end up longing for the basic cruel fuckings meted out by the sweating, grunting male customers rather than the frequently unbearable agonies at the hands of their feminine visitors.

Marisol pushed yet another long pin slowly, ever so slowly, into the blond-haired Americana slavewhore’s perfect tit. She let a hint of a grin show on her face as the slave’s high-pitched scream filled the small room.

“Ah, you have such a pretty voice,” Marisol said in a soft purr. ” So pretty. And I like your breasts, too. I really love how their flesh yields and accepts my trusty pins when I push-h-h-h them in like this……. Ohhhh, there’s that lovely voice again….”

She stepped back a bit to watch as the captive’s suspended body thrashed and writhed yet another time. For Marisol, this was so much better than any sex. ” And you dance so well, too. I think that I’m really going to enjoy this evening. Maybe you’ll learn to enjoy it, also. After all, I have two hundred pins in the kit that I brought along….”

Sometimes the sex houses recruited regular prostitutes from the area to participate in sex shows requested by a certain guest or put on as a special mid-week attraction to bring in customers. Usually these hard-working street whores were indeed glad to earning some easy money and also having a particularly attractive white slavewhore working hard to satisfy their every demand. The pairing of hard-bitten, experienced and nasty street whores with their compliant, frightened slave counterparts always made for a good show for the rowdy and boisterous crowds of men who watched. Under the loud prompting from the crowd, the prostitutes were frequently urged on to subject their Yankee partners to the most extreme sexual acts; most shows usually ended with finales in which the slavewhores were compelled to swallow the prostitute’s piss; and there was always one or two slaves who pleased the fans as they were forced to open their mouths to accept the turds from the asses of squatting prostitutes.

But not all the interaction between the slaves and their prostitute guests took place onstage. Often, in the few hours before the crowds arrived for the scheduled performances, the visiting prostitutes would arrange to spend time with the slavewhores that had been chosen to service them in the show. For the hardened streetwalkers, this was an opportunity to find out more about their show partners. To find out about the softness of their lips, the elasticity of their pussies and the suppleness of their tongues.

Presently, slave Tammy’s tongue was passing the test; it was indeed supple and amenable as it obediently explored the funky recesses of prostitute Elenia asshole….. “Yeah… stick you pretty white face in my ass, gringa, and lick me deep…. Gonna fart on your face and shit on it too. You’ll get the full treatment!”

Being the owner of a Sex House was not always an easy position. Besides all the paperwork and auditing that was regularly demanded by his Regime superiors, there was also the often exhausting trials and tribulations caused by the presence of so many delectable pieces of slave flesh. It was unfair, having to put up with all that. Some of the owners made a point to avoid the temptations of sexual overindulgence by spending as little time as possible in the establishments that they controlled – but even with the help of a reliable madam on the premises, that was not always a feasible option. Furthermore, a good sex house owner would be remiss in his duties if he neglected to confirm for himself just what a newly-attained slavewhore had to offer to his operation. After all, a smart business owner is obliged to acquire at least some knowledge of the strengths and weaknesses of a new employee…

Senor Bernard and his wife were in the process of personally assessing one of the latest additions to their sexhouse. This slavewhore was named Maxine and she was outwardly easy on the eyes; a real looker. But the Senor and Senora needed to see for themselves just what talents Maxine had that would benefit the whorehouse and it’s many customers. Well, no need to worry, it seemed. Slavewhore Maxine’s pussy was still pretty tight and it hugged the girth of Senor Bernard’s impressive cock as he started fucking her for the third time that night. The Senor grunted in approval as he noted how the slave’s lithe body molded with his as he began to assault her hole in the rough, slamming style that he was so good at.

“Uhhhh….That’s it, puta, cry. I like my girls to cry. It shows that they really appreciate the loving that their Senor is giving them…..”

So another day and night would pass down in the Regime’s colonial sexhouses and the hard-working men who enabled the Regime to survive and thrive would descend upon one of the few forms of entertainment and pleasure available to them. To some, the fates of the political slavewhores might seem especially cruel and hopeless; but others would see them as essential contributors to the welfare of the New Order. Rather than spending their time in ill-advised and antisocial activities against their government, they were now redeeming themselves with their captive pussies, asses and mouths; bringing pleasure to those with an urgent need for it…….

“My friends, we have just had a new shipment of girls come in a few days ago, ” the sexhouse’s female huckster called out as she went about her job of attracting customers off the street. “All are pretty Anglo college bitches, straight from El Norte! Bitches who will do everything you want and empty your balls and make you happy! These are real student troublemakers who have always been pampered and privileged and this will be your chance to show them how strong your brown cocks are! Come and line up……”

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When the black gang had broken into the white family’s big, expensive home , the original intention was to just to rough up the father in order to find out where safe was hidden. But after they took a look at his two beautiful daughters, their plans changed quickly. A couple of days earlier, the gang’s leader had been talking about going into the white-slave business; there was big money to be made from selling them in the underground slave market.

Now, Tall – Ray, the ranking member of this break-in group, was enjoying the feel of Anna’s horrified stroking of his black cock. Soft hands; just perfect for stroking his dick to it’s full 11 inches.

Margo was auditioned by a prospective Owner before being put out for auction. She had been somewhat defiant in the beginning and as a result, had suffered a more severe regimen of rough punishment. But now Margo had realized the error of her ways and had become quite a sweet little thing. Her sister Anna had been sold off to work in an China Town whorehouse.

Margo’s blond looks, tight body and thoroughly agreeable nature impressed her Buyer and she, good girl as she was, showed her gratefulness for being purchased by a long, wet sucking of His cock.

___________________________

May 13th, 2005

For the members of this gang, the ‘White Slavery’ business was turning out to be far more lucrative than they had ever dared to hope. And the demand for fresh white slavegirls was becoming so great that the gang’s members found themselves engaged day and night in task of the choosing, planning and kidnapping of the most attractive and well-bred white females available. It was difficult and time-consuming, but somehow the black gangsters managed to rise to the occasion.

This time, the abducted human cargo was a half-dozen or so college cheerleaders who had been snatch off the street in front of the hotel they all had been staying at while attending a cheerleading conference. Just the right type. Perky, pretty and in fine physical condition. Their strong and limber bodies would serve to make them prime pieces of fuck-meat, able to hold up under all the relentless forced sex that they would be enduring in their new lives as streetwhores and brothel slaves. The word had already gone out about this latest group of slavebitches; the prospective buyers had begun to call, wanting appointments in order to examine and make bids. But in the meantime, a couple of the gangsters just had to try out some of that wonderful-looking pussy for themselves. The tall, lean senior cheerleader named Bianca screamed in vain as they started to rip off her cute outfit and push her toward a much-used bed. There on the dirty mattress, Bianca would be the first of her group to be forced to give it up; to learn to obey all those shouted commands; to move and buck those strong hips up against those brutal black cocks…

While the gang was comprised predominately of men, there was a sizeable number of female members. Girls and women who were just as tough, as ruthless and as dangerous as their male counterparts. And the gang leader granted them the privilege of being the ones who did most of the actual punishment and disciplining of the slaves in order to instill the right kind of attitude before they were put on display or put to work. It was an assignment that most of the black female member relished and really enjoyed as they used their fists, whips and straps to firmly put those white slaves in their place.

Sholanda was tall, lean and mean. Tonight she was working herself into a sweat as she flayed the now-tender and reddened body of blond Becky. Becky had exhibited only the slightest trace of defiance at first, but that was enough to bring Sholanda’s aggressive nature to the fore. Now after a half-hour of agony under Sholanda’s merciless attentions, poor Becky was now just a trembling mess, only weakly moving when the black woman’s leather whiplet landed on her back, legs and shoulders. Sholanda recognized the sure signs of a natural submissive; this white girl would be so obedient….so giving…

“Do you want me to stop beating you? Do you want that, girl?”

“…Y- y- yes…please…please….”

Sholanda’s black pussy was beginning to wet….. “That’s my girl. that’s the way I like to hear ya talk.” She softly stroked Becky’s sobbing face.

Becky had been repeatedly used as Sholanda’s chief pussyeater until the time came for her to be put in one of the display areas to be considered for sale. Her virgin pussy and asshole was a great selling point, one which certainly enhanced her chances at being bought by Big Ray, one of the more powerful pimps in the area. Becky’s price was somewhat steep, causing Big Ray to hesitate until his main woman Violet lean in to say, “You a fool if you don’t take this one, Ray. This here little piece is one of them that you can charge some big-time rates for. We can set her up in one of the rooms instead of puttin’ her out on the street. That way we keep her cunt and ass tight and the dudes is just gonna pay extra to dip their dicks in her.”

Over in another corner, a drug dealer called Dangerous had just chosen and paid cash money for the 20 year-old cheerleader, Erica. Dangerous had been turned on from the moment her had spotted Erica and there was no way that he was going to wait any longer than necessary to spread those long legs of hers and shove in his dick. In fact, he wasn’t even going to wait until after he had taken her home. Right there, Dangerous unfastened his pants and move in close against Erica, his tongue forcing it’s way into her yielding mouth. He placed her shaky hands on his cock, having her start to stroke him. Erica knowing that her buyer was going to fuck her right there, in front of everybody, could only comply by spreading her legs. An involuntary sob escaped from her throat as her ten fingers could barely wrap around his giant shaft…..

Colleen had just been captured less than three days before. She being the proud debutant that she was, had decided try to fight and escape the strange big black man who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere as she was walking to her car after a long evening of reverie at her favorite exclusive nightclub. Colleen’s resistance had not lasted very long; she had been pummeled quickly and severely and then tossed into the trunk of a waiting car. Taken to her place of captivity, she had endured a night of further attitude readjustment in the form gang-rape and the repeated application of the belt. Now Colleen had seen the light and had realized the errors of her ways. She would now seek to demonstrate her willingness to cooperate by obediently trying to give the very best of blowjobs to the long gangster cock being dangled in front of her face. And Colleen would do such a good job of it, too; sucking that thug dick to a wet, creamy cum and swallowing every salty drop …

These thugs might have been low-life criminals, but one thing they did appreciate, when they found it, was real talent. Colleen, it so happen, had a real talent for sucking cocks. So it was in short order that she was given the position as the whorehouse’s cocksucking specialist. Word traveled fast, and Colleen accomplished mouth and slavish lips and tongue was soon servicing and milking the sperm up from the ballsacs and out of the cocks of happy, demanding customers much as 18 hours a day, 7 days a week…..

Word traveled fast, and Colleen accomplished mouth and slavish lips and tongue was soon servicing and milking the sperm up from the ballsacs and out of the cocks of happy, demanding customers much as 18 hours a day, 7 days a week…..

When he first started doing his illegal drug business with the black and Latin gangs, Nick McMann was waned against ever entertaining any thoughts of double-crossing them. “Those guys are dangerous as hell and they won’t stop until they get their revenge on you if they think that you’ve betrayed them” was the common advice from some of his drinking pals. But McMann was a man who had long-term connections to some of the highest elected and appointed officials in his city. Surely, he thought, his connections would serve to protect him in the event that he had trouble with these lowly suppliers of drugs and other shady enterprises.

But Nick McMann soon found out that he had been wrong, very wrong. McMann had decided to do a rip-off; selling the drugs that the gangs had supplied him and then keeping all the money for himself. And he soon discovered that his ‘friends’ and ‘connections’ were not going to come to his aid at all. Knowing now that his life was in extreme peril, Nick McMann packed his bags and fled his big, expensive home, telling his wife and children that he was leaving for their own protection. “These men are after me, not you. all you have to do is keep a low profile until all this mess has a chance to blow over”, he told them.

Again, McMann was wrong. Maybe the gang didn’t yet know where Nick had gone, but they knew where his family was. The police had advised Mrs. McMann that it might be a good idea for her and her three college-aged daughters to perhaps find another place to stay for a while. They didn’t have to suggest it twice; Alice McMann and family promptly vacated the house, each of them finding different lodgings. And to further play it safe, only their close relatives knew their new locations.

But the gangsters were determined to extract their vengeance. Big Ed, the leader of the black gang told his thoughts to Ramos, the local representative of the Latin drug importing operation, ” If we can’t find that Nick bastard, then I’m gonna hunt down as many of the bitches in his family as I can. Doesn’t matter if they’re daughters, sisters, cousins or whatever – we’ll make our money back from using or selling their asses!” Ramos, seeing the possibilities, liked this idea and agreed to it.

Big Ed’s thugs moved fast and their first capture was a 20 year-old niece of McMann named Fran. Fran was taken from her apartment in the middle of the day. Her first night was not pleasant; after being whipped and beaten, she was duct-taped to a pipe in a standing position throughout the night. Her legs and arms were in agony. And this was only the beginning.

Elvira’s plans for Fran started promptly at 8am. That’s when one of the prostitutes cut Fran loose from her tape bindings and escorted her in a small damp room with only a bed. There Fran was collared and chained.

At 8:15 am, the first black stud walked in, undressed and immediately proceeded to begin jamming his huge cock in Fran’s virgin asshole.

“Don’t fight it, baby. You fight it and I get to beat on ya and still fuck ya.”

Fran gasped in pain as the thug’s shaft kept forcing it’s way inside, stretching the walls of her protesting anus.

“Uhhhhhhh….So tight, baby, so damn tight….” His strong fingers dug into her shoulders as he slammed his entire length up her ass.

“Oh, Jesus! It hurts! You’re killing me! AAAEEEeeeeeeee!”

“Now don’t be that way, bitch…..I’m just puttin’ some lovin’ on ya. ….” He was strong and virile and he was just getting started.

Outside the room, three other big thugs, all chosen by Elvira for their cock size and stamina, waited their turn…

Fran’s rape session ended at 11am. Trembling and barely able to walk, she was then taken to the next room, where she prepared for Elvira’s personal attentions. Elvira started out by subjecting Fran to a merciless belt-flogging, flailing away at full-strength, holding nothing back. The white girl’s screams filled the entire basement complex; screams made at the top of her voice; animalistic screams, desperate screams….

Elvira whipped away at her captive until she gauged that the time was right to begin with her next and most effective application of well-planned abuse. Elvira not only enjoyed this kind of wirk, she was also very good at it, and studied it and had practiced it until it had become an art. Many men and women – most of whom were far tougher than Fran – had been broken by Elvira’s methods….

Now Fran torment was at a zenith as Elvira began apply the end of her burning cigarette to Fran’s breasts.

“Now Fran, baby…..tell me how this feels…”

“Yiiiieeee….!”

“Ohhhhh, I can see that you want more,,,,,Here, let me give you a little touch to that nipple….Mmmmmm, such a cute little nipple you got there, all pink and all…”

“Noooooooo….Ahhhhhhhhhhh….!”

“Now, sweetie, I just know that you want to tell be about your cousins and all the other females relatives that you have… Wait a minute, let me try that other nipple before you answer….Here….”

“Yaaaaaaa..! Eeeeeeeeee….!”

“Tell me all about where they live…..Their addresses, telephone numbers…Everything….”

Fran had told all that she could think to tell. And now Big Ed had information on where he could find not only nock McMann’s wife and daughters, but also where he could pick up at least a dozen additional female relatives. Fran had so obligingly provided Elvira with the descriptions of each relative, so Ed was able to make choices of which ones he wanted to take.

With the information in hand, Big Ed’s henchmen fanned out throughout the city, beginning their hunting spree. “Be smart and quick about it”, Big Ed had instructed them. “I want it done fast, before they know what’s happening to each other, before they can warn each other or notify the cops”.

The gang’s hunters were good. Almost every targeted female was successfully snatched away from their homes or off the streets. One of the first ones to be kidnapped was Fran’s 18 year-old sister, Natalie. Natalie

had no idea that anyone was in her apartment as she came home from her store clerk job. Only when a deep voice spoke from behind and a large blade was held at her throat did she realize her peril.

The plan was for each captive to be taken to a separate location where she would be immediately subjected to a intense breaking-down and breaking-in regimen administered by a cadre of whores and street prostitutes especially chosen by Elvira for their dependability and their sadistic tendencies.

Natalie was brought to Regina and Emerald’s place. Without a word, Regina tore off Natalie’s clothes and attached her ankles to chains that hung from the ceiling. Natalie’s peaches-and-cream ass was perfectly positioned and exposed. As she saw Emerald approach her with a leather strap, Natalie’s eyes widened with fear and shock.

“Please! No! Why are you doing this? Why am I here? Please don’t hurt me!”

Emerald snorted and then gave Natalie a hard blow that landed on the white girl’s thigh, causing her to yelp and causing angry red mark . “Now look here, girl. I don’t want to hear any fuckin’ word from that mouth of yours, you hear me? Ain’t nothin’ you gotta say that we wanna hear until we tell ya it’s okay to talk. You our bitch now and you gonna learn how to act.

“I’m gonna hurt ya, bitch. I’m gonna whip ya real good. I gonna whip the shit outta ya. Now, if you just be my bitch and take what I’m gonna give ya, I’ll let up on ya after a while and let ya eat me and Regina’s pussy. But if you yell and make a fuss, if you even say one more word until we tell ya it’s okay to talk, we’re gonna gag ya and then the both of us is gonna take turns beatin’ every damn inch of your body all fuckin’ night! It’s up to you how you want it. Now I’m gonna start on ya now. All I wanna hear is you crying’ real soft – I like to see a sweet white girl cry. But it better not be any that loud kind of cryin’! Here goes, bitch….”

whack whack whack whack

“Oh yeahhhhhh, you is so pretty when you cry……so pretty…Ain’t she pretty, Regina?”

“Yeah, sure is. Can’t wait for my turn. Hear that, girl? I’m gonna show ya how a real black dyke can whip on the cute ass of yours. I got me a plain ol’ wooden ruler that’s gonna make you feel like you ain’t never felt before. You gonna earn the right to eat my cunt.”

Elvira got a telephone report from Regina; Fran’s sister Natalie was in the midst of cleaning out Emerald’s asshole with her tongue.

“That girl, she learnin’ fast. She gonna be a money-maker if you decide on keepin’ her. Shit, if I had the bread, I’d buy her in a minute! She gonna make a real good ho’.”

“Glad to hear that, Regina. Okay, you two can use her as much as you want before we send someone over to pick her up. You can whip on her a bit more, but don’t damage her. I want her broken in, but she’s gotta be lookin’ okay, understand?”

After the call, Elvira smiled and returned to the big room in which she had left Fran sitting on the bed. Surrounding the captive girl was a half dozen of Big Ed’s thugs.

“Okay, boys, she’s all yours. Big Ed wants her turned into a complete whore before we put her to work out on the streets. We got birth control pills for her, so you all can shoot your loads in her all you want. You can treat her as rough as you want – after all she a girl who turned in her own sister. She’s nothin’ but a ho’ now.

Elvira left the room. She would bring in another group of fresh, eager cocks to have their turns fucking Fran. She figured that it would require a week of non-stop rape sessions to make Fran into a street whore who would be obediently spreading her legs in the alleys and behind the trash bins, earning money for her new Masters. Elvira thought about the other girls who were destined to be Big Ed’s new and unwilling guests.

Yes, Nick McMann might have escaped the gang – but his daughters and female relatives would be here, taking his place…..

This was going to be fun.

Big Ed’s gang had now kidnapped or abducted almost every adult female relative of Nick McMann who lived in the area. Even third and fourth cousins were snatched up in the sometimes brazen raids carried out by Big Ed’s men. The breaking-in process of turning these captives into slaves was in full motion and some of them were already being put to work out on the streets and I a number of Big Ed’s inner-city whorehouses; their white bodies being used to begin earning back some of the money that Nick McMann had cost the Gang when he cheated them and escaped.

In the 83rd Street whorehouse operation, McMann nieces Audrey and Ruth Lugran were experiencing their first hours of the new life that was being forced upon them. Audrey ‘s crying was being muffled by the large black cock that was roughly fucking her mouth and causing her to gag as it started filling her throat. This was Audrey’s first customer of the day; there would be 20 more men who would sample her cute mouth and pretty holes before her shift was over.

A mile away, Carrie another McMann relative, was having her own initial meeting with the Madam Joanna, the woman in charge of the brothel in which she would be serving. Carrie’s very first experience at eating pussy had been a week ago when she had endured the harsh training melt out by Regina and Emerald. During her stay with those two, she had been taught the fine art of using her tongue to please and now she was again demonstrating her talent on the rather oversized clit and misting cunt of this new madam, a woman whom it would be very wise to please.

Although Big Ed’s capturing of the McMann women was mostly a matter of business, some of it was also a matter of revenge. Revenge on the man whom he had trusted and who had embarrassed him by cheating him out of a lot of money. Nick McMann’s female relatives would be forced to use their bodies to recoup the amount that he had taken from the Gang, Big Ed would see to that.

But Big Ed would also have a more personal, a more satisfying revenge. In the large, fortress-like warehouse that served a both his headquarters and residence, he was now keeping the Nick’s lovely wife, Dora, along with her daughter Natalie. Big Ed really enjoyed the thought that as Nick McMann would spend the short time that he had left to live running from place to place, his beloved wife and youngest daughter would spend the rest of their days – and nights – serving as Big Ed’s personal concubine slaves. And he would make sure that before Nick McMann died, that he would know

Dora now knew just how Big Ed preferred to fuck her. Up her ass. And he liked to fuck her often. And he always fucked her in front of her daughter. Dora had resisted this at first; but after the painful punishment she had received for even the slightest defiance, she now was obedient and gave it to Big Ed like he wanted it.

Big Ed was gradually fucking the dignity out her with that huge cock of his and the way that he used it. And she was secretly alarmed that the painful ramming of his cock was now bringing some kind of involuntary response from her body….

“You ready for more of your Master’s cock, baby? Tell me, baby.”

“Yes, Master, please.”

“Beg me to fuck ya. And tell me in front of your cute daughter that you’re my bitch. Tell me.”

“I’m your bitch, Master. And please fuck me. Please let me give it to you anyway that you want to take it. Please fuck my ass hard.” Dora’s face reddened in shame as she told him what he wanted to hear.

Big Ed smiled as he stroked his cock. ” Now, bitch, tell me in front of your daughter that you give her to me. Tell me that as her mother, you give her to me forever.”

Dora’s eyes moistened as she obeyed her Master and told him what he wanted to hear.

“Yes, Master, Natalie is yours. I give her to you to keep…”

“Ahhhhh, you’re a good mother,” Big Ed said as he put Dora in position to fuck her. ” You’ve earned your fuck. Stick that sweet ass up to take it like the good bitch that you are. And tell your daughter that she better watch or else she’ll get another hard whipping. I want her to watch her mother and see and learn how to be a good whore to her Master….”

Dora had pleased Big Ed with the way that she moved her ass to his cock and with her distressed moans and whimpering from his anal attacks. She had taken three of his cumloads up her ass and now lay chained back in her own special cell in the warehouse basement. She needn’t worry about being neglected long, though; Dora knew that her Master would be back tonight, wanting and taking more of what she had to offer him.

But now Big Ed was ready for more. His balls were filling up again with semen and his cock was already beginning to harden again as he carried Natalie upstairs to his bedroom.

Big Ed wasn’t bragging; he had a lot of experience at fucking a bitch into submission. And Natalie would be a special project with him. An most enjoyable project. In a year from now, she – and her mother – would be totally his. He might even give them new names to go along with their new personalities. What a sweet revenge on Nick McMann…….

While Big Ed was attending to his own personal pleasures, another facet of his revenge against Nick McMann was in progress. Big Ed’s Latin crime associates were also due to profit from the taking of McMann’s

female relatives as slaves. In a way, dealing a lot of the McMann slaves off the Latins was a better and safer proposition to Big Ed; first, the Latin cartel was willing to throw some extra supplies of drugs Big Ed’s way as a gift in exchange for the slaves. Secondly, the slaves being transported to South America would ensure that they would, in effect, disappear, making it less likely that any slave would eventually end up being capable of making trouble for Big Ed.

The Latin cartel had sent one of it’s most trusted brothel madams to take a look at the dozen or so McMann captives that Big Ed’s gang had offered to make available to them. She had a good eye for female flesh and she would make the final decisions concerning which girls her organization would take.

Doritha Ramos stare was hard as she looked over the two McMann girls who cowered in the small closet that had served as their cell for the past few weeks. Doritha pinched and massaged her erect clit as she mentally appraised the two girls. Yes, eighteen and twenty-three years old, pretty and already broken in. Perfect.

But Doritha also had to know how compatible these girls would be on a personal level. She always needed to know if these slaves had the aptitude to make her feel comfortable. The many men who patronized the brothels that she oversaw had simple needs and most were easily satisfied. But Doritha also made personnel decisions on the basis of which of these Gringo girls would get along better with the regular Latin whores who staffed the different brothels. She knew how to make her judgments… how to audition prospective girls…

In the beginning, some slaves, although treated with admirable restraint by their captors, just couldn’t seem to be able to bring themselves to accept their new status in life. Coming from a background of relative comfort and privilege, the idea of spending the rest of their lives as lowly brothel or street whores was almost too much for them to absorb. Sometimes, the gangsters would solve this problem by a good dose of brutal punishment or perhaps a week of non-stop rape. But sometimes Big Ed would chose instead to impress their new fate upon them in other ways.

One method for bring a reluctant bitch to her senses was to merely take her out and leave her restrained in a back alley at night. There she would spend the entire night, naked, exposed and available to any passing dude who happened by and wanted a little taste of what this helpless white girl had to offer. And in this urban, inner city neighborhood, the sort of men who prowled the streets and back alleys were not the kid that one normally would enjoy meeting. But they enjoyed meeting these white girls very much and they would show it by using those captive pussies and assholes over and over again in the most crude and degrading ways….

Alfonso had been just cruising this alley in search of perhaps some prey to rob for some much-needed cash. But instead he happened upon a very frightened blonde named Lisa, who was tied and awaiting his inspection and his cock.

In this gang’s structure and method of operations, the women members, it’s associated street prostitutes and brothel whores played a big part in the breaking-in of new slavemeat. For these hardened women, it was a particularly pleasurable duty when it came to getting a young white slave thoroughly acquainted with the ways of a whore.

Marsha and Shona, as a rule, preferred to slowly introduce themselves to an already broken-in girl; sometimes spending days with their routine of sexual humiliation and instruction. Tonight they had been handed a cute little 18 year-old Tanya, who had just emerged from two weeks of whipping and rape from her male gang kidnappers. Now she was chastened, submissive and ready to be schooled in the proper ways of giving pleasure.

Shona started things off with a deep inspection of Tanya’s sore pussy. Her fingers were strong and hard as they dug into Tanya’s cunt, digging. Exploring.

“Now, girl, your Shona’s gonna start showin’ you what a ho’ you is gonna be. You is gonna be puttin’ out for a lotta men and they is gonna be fuckin’ all them holes of yours. But me and Marsha here is gonna be teachin’ you how to be pleasin’ all us other ho’s when you ain’t workin’. Oh, yeah…you feelin’ that, baby? I’m gonna show you how a fist can fill you up better than any of them big cocks you is gonna be takin’……”

Tanya moaned in distress as Shona’s five fingers were replaced by her entire fist slowly stretching her protesting cunt.

“Hurts a bit, don’t it, girl? Well, don’t worry, baby, you is gonna learn to love it. The sistas is gonna be arm-fuckin’ you a lot when they first gets to be with you. I promise you that you are gonna end up just beggin’ for it after a while. So it’s very important that you become acquainted with the feelin’ of it all!”

With said, Shona adjusted her leverage and steadily began working her fist even deeper now, watching Tanya’s contorted face and listening to her groans.

“Tell me, sweetie. Tell me that you want me to make you my little bitch. Tell me that your pussy belongs to me…”

And Tanya, so servile, so without hope, told Shona everything that she had demanded to hear…..

Shona liked this girl. Tanya was going to be everything that they wanted her to be. Shona’s cunt was dripping wet now, anticipating all the pleasures that this submissive cutie was going to provide her and her partner over the next few days – perhaps weeks.

Shona shoved her fist almost up to her elbow, impaling Tanya with her arm. Tanya’s scream was as full as her pussy…

And while pleasure was surely a big part of the Gang’s white slave trade, the moving force was always pure business. These slaves either worked in the Gang’s streets, whorehouses or were put on the auction block for sale to the myriad of various buyers who were always in need of captive flesh. The trade was very profitable, so the Gang’s turnover rate was brisk.

While a slave would surely sell when taken out to Auction, there was never a guarantee concerning the price that she would command from the assembled buyers. Her looks, attitude and general health were always major considerations in how much money would be paid for her, but there were also other factors that came into play. The various needs and motivations of the buyers also effected the prices offered.

The portly man named “Tub” was a frequently attendee at the Gang’s Auctions, always bringing his wife Hattie and daughter Jennine with him as equal partners in the inspection and purchasing of any flesh that caught their eye. At today’s Auction, a pretty blond and shaven Maureen had indeed captured their collective eye and interest. “Tub” and family were successful, long-time drug distributors whose interest in slaves was driven by pleasure, not business. And they were in a position to afford their pleasures.

“What do you think, child?”, Tub asked his daughter. “You think this one is one that we should get?” Tub knew that she probably would be; she seemed to share his taste in women. And this slave Maureen appealed to him; his cock was already hardening in his pants from the thought of how he would be spending long periods plowing that shaven pussy….

Jennine nodded. “Yeah, she looks pretty fine to me”, she said, her thoughts already anticipating how this slave’s pink lips as they sucked wetly on her anus and that tongue would be feel as it thrashed around inside her asshole.

Tub’s wife, Hattie’s thoughts were a bit darker as she appraised Maureen’s good looks and her shapely pale body. She was thinking how this girl would first be squirming as she applied her red-hot needles to those lovely breasts and pussy lips down in their sound-proofed basement and then how she would be screaming at the very top of her voice as Hattie would slowly finish her off over a period of a week with the most cruel use of her assortment of knives and that little blow torch that she used to burn off every inch of a slaves skin…..

The Salvadors was another family that regular used the Gang’s slave-auction services to procure fresh girls. Ernesto Salvador and his two sisters, Regina and Nester, were owners of a flourishing underground sex and pain video operation that furnished certain South American interests with the most discerning and sadistic of porn.

Ernesto always used one of the Gang’s cellar rooms to try out a just-bought slavegirl. He always enjoyed the slave’s shaking trepidation the face of her new Master and Mistresses and at the thought of her fate when he would gleefully inform her of her new owners’ plans for her.

Sharon was the slave who was trembling now. She trembled as Ernesto ran his hands over her smooth by still-aching skin as he said, ” We’re going to give you a chance to get to know us before we take you to our place, eh? You’re also are going to work hard to let us all get to know you, too. You’re going to love how I’m going fuck you, my little puta. My cock is so big and I know that you will love it when I ram it up your ass. And I know that you will love it when I pull my cock out of your ass and jam it down your throat so you can suck all the cum out as I empty my balls, eh? Si, I know you will love doing everything that we want you to do here and I know that you will love working in our films. You will love thrilling our fans as they watch you as you will do everything that we want you to do. You will love how I will hurt you while I fuck you and how my sisters will hurt you and make you cry and scream. And we will love how you will be begging us for mercy in your final moments….”

“Enough of this,” interrupted Nester as she started to remove her clothes. “You listen to me , puta. You’re gonna to make us a lot of money and then you’re gonna to die! And before you die, you’re gonna be spending all your time pleasing me, my sister and my brother – and you better do it well, you hear me? You’ve already caused my nipples to get hard and my cunt to wet up, so I’m gonna make you pay, you fuckin’, low-life! How dare you make me get all horny! Forget about my brother, puta – get down on your knees and crawl over here and kiss my feet before I let you eat my pussy! and you better make me cum real good before I piss in your mouth, understand!”

“And then, me and my sister here, we’re gonna whip the shit out you! All the punishment that you’ve had ain’t nothing compared to how we’re gonna hurt you tonight! You’re gonna beg for my brother is fuck you before we girls are done with you! And I promise you that when we start filming you, we will be hurting you so much more, that you will again be begging – this time, begging us to let you die!”

“Si,” chuckled Regina. ” I will kill you myself. I will love it when I gouge out your eyes while our cameras film it for our customers. And I will enjoy it so much when I slowly take my time choking the life out of you by squeezing your little neck with my strong hands…”

The Salvadors were not the only Latin interests that dealt with the Gang slave-auctioning services. Uncle Tito frequently shopped there for comely candidates to purchase for shipping out to his clients in South America. He always searched for a particular type of slave; young, with fresh, innocent looks. That was the type favored by the people that he did business with; powerful members of the Latin American elite and criminal leadership. These clients didn’t want girls for use in brothels, etc. Rather the people who uses Uncle Tito’s services tended to keep slaves for purposes of pleasure. Some of them even kept entire harems of slavegirls for their personal enjoyment.

Uncle Tito looked on as a newly-purchased Dorothy was escorted into the back of his truck for prompt transportation to the docks and shipping off to South American to a certain moneyed industrialist who had placed an order for an unbroken, innocent-looking American girl from the Midwestern section.

Dorothy had all the attributes that the client wanted. A college sophomore who had just been kidnapped while heading back to visit her parents on their farm, Dorothy had not been raped or beaten. That would be the sole privilege of her new owner, a man who took great pleasure in breaking in a scared young slave with his brutal cock and collection of restraints and whips.

The Gang’s White Slavery operation was going well; the demand for new slaves was growing. And growing so fast that the Gang’s leader, Big Ed, had decided to streamline things by adapting the method of auctioneering. After all, having the buyers bid against each other for the best slave flesh always worked to bring in better prices. Of course, this increased level of sales also mandated a more aggressive and far-flung effort by the Gang in terms of the areas in which they kidnapped new girls. But the Gang’s contacts were wide and soon more slaves than ever were being transported to the Gang’s central location to be processed and readied for the auction block.

“This looks like a good batch,” commented Shag as a new trio of captives were marched into the warehouse.

Shag loved his work; loved it so much that he kept his fly unzipped and his cock hanging out.

“Hey, I really like the look of the last one. Stop marching, bitches! You in the rear, get on your knees right now! I want ya to suck my dick… you gonna have your pretty face well fucked!”

To put it mildly, working the slave trade did have it’s advantages. The hours might have been long, but a lot of those hours involved the taking one’s pleasure from the captive and submissive female bodies that were available to their use.

Isaac hadn’t had any pussy for over three hours and he was very horny by the time he had spotted the petite Anita cowering at the rear of her cell. Anita had been brought in the night before and had yet to undergo the usual initiation of intense paddling and whipping that would signal the beginning of her training. Isaac’s practiced eye immediately saw that Anita was the type that would be trained easily; she would provide little resistance to being transformed into a servile little whore. He decided right then to give her an advance lesson in what her new life would require of her.

Leading the scared, compliant Anita to one of the small fucking mattresses, Isaac climbed on top of her, saying ” You’re gonna give it all up to me, baby. I’m gonna show ya what a big cock can do.

Just for fun, he held his big knife in front of her face. Her big, frightened eyes and her tearful whimper was just what he wanted, turning him on further as he pressed his shaft into her tight cunt.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she begged. ” Please……”

The action never ceased in the Gang’s headquarters. At any hour, somewhere within the sprawling building or in the vast underground complex of tunnels and basement rooms below it, the sounds of flogging against yielding skin, sweating bodies slapping against each other, of pitiful moans and screams were always in evidence. The business of punishment and the pleasures of violent sex mixed together well here.

Sadie had just finished giving Ann her first dose of discipline; nothing heavy, just short, ten – minute caning that had quickly reduced the slave to tears and left her shaking all over. Sadie had her own way of breaking her captives in.

After this short break, the next session would last twenty minutes and after that each one would last a full thirty minutes. At the end of the first 24 hours of Sadie’s expert applications of her bamboo cane, a slave would usually be quivering, jellied mess. and cringing at the knowledge that the next 24 hours would bring more of the same. No slave could bear up under such a drawn-out program of punishment for very long…

And between each session of pain, Sadie would position her pussy in front of the slave’s face, with the instruction to eat that pussy real good and make it cum. That was what cute, beaten Ann was doing right now – frantically using her mouth and tongue on the stern and unsmiling Sadie’s offered cunt and clit. Trying so hard to please….

Meanwhile, Isaac had not forgotten about the lovely little Anita; returning to visit her a few days into her training. He particularly liked how her small pussy strained to accommodate his huge member, how she always gritted her teeth when rammed all of himself deep inside her. Yeah, he wanted more. So Anita was spared some time away from those paddles and whips – so that Isaac could enjoy inflicting his own type of pain….

“I know you missed me, didn’t ya? I know you couldn’t wait for your big, bad Isaac with his big, bad cock,” Isaac gloated as he began to roughly fuck Anita from behind. ” Ummmm…Baby, that cunt feels so good! So damn good!”

Miss Dolly was the mother of Big Ed, the Gang’s undisputed leader. And in that capacity, she commanded great respect. Miss Dolly was a big woman, a tough woman – and a woman who had big needs of her own. Because of those needs, she was a familiar figure around the gang headquarters; usually with her own tightly-knit entourage travelling in her wide wake. Miss Dolly had tits the size and weight of rice sacks and a clit that some said was the length and width of a child’s thumb. With very few responsibilities and a lot of idle time, it was only natural that she tended to find her daily amusements by making use of all those easily available white cunts at her disposal
“Ummmm… a new cunt… come here, little one… you gonna eat my shit and lick my craphole clean after”

Every once in a while, there was sure to be one or two slaves who tended to be particularly difficult and resisted even in the face of the most heavily – applied abuse. The Gang had long since decided against investing a heavier-than-usual training program on these types in the hopes of bringing them around; such traits made them highly suspect as slave material, anyway. Instead, these troublesome malcontents were quickly separated from the other slaves in order that they be put to use as S&M ‘toys’.

Vivian’s deeply defiant personality had clearly marked her as one who was definitely not good slave material. No matter how intense and severe her training, she could never be trusted.

No matter, Vivian would instead serve her captors in another way. She would instead give them the enjoyment of her prolonged suffering and death.

The prostitute named “Willow” had been granted torture rights to Vivian and she was determined to extract every bit of pain and self-worth from her over the week’s time. She was one who liked to take her time, and she started things off mildly; a half-day of electrified needles in Vivian’s flesh would begin to get this slave in the proper frame of mind of what was to follow. Next, it would be an electric plug up her rectum and another in her pussy. Then would follow the hammer-smashing of Vivian’s fingers and toes. And that was only the plans for the first day. Willow would not peel off Vivian’s skin until the seventh day….

“Lucky me you are such a stupid girl… you can’t imagine how I like doing this to you!”

The Gronsky Gang’s main source of income was the ‘white slave’ trade. It’s ability to kidnap and prepare attractive young ladies for auctioning and transport to ever-willing buyers in Eastern Europe and the Balkans had resulted in great amounts of cash.

Marina was one of the Gronsky Gang’s latest acquisitions. Only a day ago, she was attending her night class for cosmetology. Then came the quick abduction from the parking lot and the binding and gagging. Now Marina sat trembling alone in this dark basement, awaiting her new fate…

The senior captains of the Gronsky Gang enjoyed exercising their privileges when it came to being the first to inspect and assess the new slave talent. Their wives and girlfriends, often fully involved in the Gang’s slave-trade activities, also tended to indulge themselves in these initiations. The new slaves would have their first example of what would be expected of them…

“This one’s name is Inna. Isn’t she a treasure, boys? A nice and delicious 19 years of tight pussy, just ready to be used and taught. Isn’t that right, girl? Now don’t you worry, sweetie, your Viktoriya is going to make sure that you get the proper attention and instruction that you deserve. The boys are going to have at you first. I advise you to try and obey and do your very best to please them – because they can get very unpleasant if you fail to make them happy.

“Then after the men folk are done with you, we ladies will get together with you and teach you just how to show your appreciation to us in ways that only a woman can…”

Sometimes the Gang would make an example of a particularly resistant slave. After all, theirs was a business that depended on the quick preparation of their slaves to make them ready for sale. A difficult slavegirl slowed up the operation and also posed a danger in that her ‘bad attitude’ might embolden the other slaves.

The Gang example was brutal and very effective. The difficult slave was simply dragged down into the boiler room and hung. Then the other slaves would be taken in to see for themselves the results of a ‘bad attitude’. Such a lesson always worked to bring the girls into line.

“Do you see what being a bad girl will get you,” Svetlana purred softly in Yulia’s ear. ” Such a waste of a sweet girl. She was your friend , wasn’t she? You don’t want this to happen to you, do you? do you?

Yulia could barely bring herself to speak as Svetlana’s hand fondled and squeezed her breasts. “N – N – No. No . Please…”

“Mmmm….Good girl, very good.” Svetlana’s tongue probed wetly into the slave’s ear as she whispered, “Come now, let’s go back to my room so that you can prove to me and my boyfriend just how good a girl that you are going to be. He like earnest girls who really want to please in every way. And so do I..”

Yana and Nadya had been captured only a few hours before and already they were being greeted by the Gang’s stern and experienced Sofia. Sofia’s sharp eye for the most promising talent had immediately drawn her to Nadya. Nadya’s beautiful face and almost flawless body would cause Sofia to recommend that she be separated from the other slaves and be given special training; a girl with her attributes would fetch two to three times the usual price if she was prepared to serve and for service as a pampered slave-bride to some powerful industrialist or crime lord.

“I like your tits, slave. Full, but not saggy. Nice and suckable. You’re gonna make some buyer real happy… and you’ll certainly suffer for having such a cute pair, customers buy such tits to suck and fuck but also to pinch, twist and slap and other more painful things you can’t ever imagineЕЕ”

It was only a week until the time that the new slaves would be going to Auction. And the Gang’s ladies always made it a point to have one all-female ‘Going-away’ party with the slavegirls to celebrate their approaching lifestyle change. One last chance to for the captives to spend time servicing hot clits and pussies before entering a life that more likely consist of the rough hands and hard cocks of countless demanding and cruel men.

“Here, Ivani, why don’t you let this cute little bitch have a go at eating your cunt. She’s gotten very good at it and she’s especially adept after being whipped on a bit… I can tell for sureЕ we spent the night together and she gave me a great time, didn’t you, bitch?”

Olga’s going-away party was a bit brutal and intense. Olga, not being as attractive as most of the other slaves, would likely be sending the rest of her days being put to work in low-class brothels or on the streets of some foreign industrial Balkan city.

Hers would be the life of a hard-fucked, hard-handled and drug-addicted whore – so the Gang guys made it a point to help Olga get herself ready for the tough times ahead.

Olga flinched and let out a cry as Georgi rudely pressed his big cock deep into her sore cunt. Her pained twitching also caused her anus to convulse and squeeze tight around the embedded shaft of Andrei, almost bring him to a premature orgasm.

“Don’t move so much, bitch,” Andrei growled at her from below. “I don’t want to cum yet! You make me cum too fast and I’m gonna get mad!.

The slave whimpered as she tried to hold her body in place, but it was becoming more difficult because Georgi was now beginning to slam her offered pussy harder and harder.

Yes, this was good training,

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It was a shock for any new convicted female arrivee at that isolated political prison located so deep in the tropical rainforest of colonized South America.

Still smarting from her mistreatment while first being put on trial for mostly false charges for political purposes, a new girl was immediately harassed, mishandled and humiliated by eagerly awaiting prison authorities and Party-affiliated civilians.

The reason for all this, of course, was for the purpose of putting the new gals firmly in their place and making it clear that they could not expect any rights, only mistreatment….

There were Ladies Club composed of women Party members who had first ownership rights to any new female prisoner – and they exercised those rights well.

Within minutes after being marched off the plane, the most attractive slavegirls would be picked and separated from the rest by these keen-eyed, experienced judges of young pussy and then the process of deciding who gets who would begin.

Kathy was nervous as she tried to shield her nude body from the obvious staring of the older women, but it was no use.

“Look at that sweet thing over there,” exclaimed a big black matronly woman indicating Kathy. “Hey, darlin’, I likes you! You is just the kinda gal made for someone like me. How old you is? ANSWER ME!!!!”

“I-I’m eighteen….” Kathy begin to answer just before the black woman slapped her hard across her face.

“You says ‘Mistress’ every time you addresses me, you bitch! Got it? You might’ve been all high mucky-muck back there, but you is just another piece of trash once you gets off that plane! I used to be just a housemaid before – but now I is ranking high over you and these other bitches.”

“So you just better get used to the idea of you being nothin’ better than a little Ho from now on. In fact, I promise you is gonna be beggin’ and screamin’ in about a hour. Gonna be just beggin’ for me to let let you lick my big ol’ wet pussy. Which reminds me…..”

“Open your mouth, girl, WIDE!” Miss Estabon ordered Kathy as she back the frightened girl against the wall. “ Hmmmm, nice little tongue you has got there. Stick it out, show me. DON’T MAKE ME HAVE TO TELL YOU AGAIN!”

Trembling, Kathy obeyed, sticking her tongue out for the woman’s inspection.

_________________________________________

Cecilia had waited a long time to get her revenge on Lia. Lia and Cecilia, both daughters of high-ranking Party official, had once been close friends. That was until Lia’s father had been elevated to a much higher party position. Once that happened, Lia promptly ceased her social contact with Cecilia, even going so far as to inform her former friend that it “would be wrong to be seen in the company of ‘regular’ people” now that she and her family had moved into the mansion in that complex reversed for the organization’s elite.

But what go up sometimes comes tumbling quickly down.

It was a huge scandal involving Lia’s father being accused of mishandling Party finances and her mother being attacked in the Party’s newspapers for lavish overspending in times of great economic strain. Then there was the widely-televised trial; Lia’s father’s strained face as they accused him and his family – including Lia – of setting bad examples for the Party.

Lia’s father had been promptly executed and Cecilia heard rumors that the mother had been sentenced to serve time in an inner-city whorehouse where she was getting her holes stretched throughout the day and night by an endless parade of working-class cocks.

And as for Cecila’s former close pal? In the Party’s thinking, the daughter was guilty for the sins of the parents, so it was soon known that Lia was returning to the area – this time as a political prisoner.

Cecilia had never partook of the lesbian services provided by the female prisoners in that big hulking monster of a place located at the far reach of the valley. She had heard giggling tales from her female friends who thought it was so nice to spend a few dollars to have their pussies and assholes massaged by the obedient tongues of the unhappy girl-slaves there throughout the day.

But now she had a very good reason to visit.

It was great for Cecilia to chuckle while her unfaithful friend was forced to eat her cunt. So great to pay for reserving Lia all day and night. Cecilia found that she liked using the whip to punish Lia, enjoyed looking Lia in the eyes while she peed in her mouth….

“Hmmmmm, I like that, bitch. I really do,” Cecilia purred as her former best friend began – once again – to lick out her needy asshole. “Just think, a few months ago you were a fuckin’ snob who that that you were too good to even speak to me. And now you’re just my whore who has to eat my ass.”

“And you do such a good job, too. Now stick that tongue real deep in my ass and clean it out while I give you a couple of my farts….!”

_________________________________________

“Owwww…..Oh, God! Help me! Please, no more! Pleassssssseeeeee….!” The blonde political prisoner, Georgia, tried in vain to avoid the hard, punishing whipping that was being put to her by the off-duty guard Tamara.

“Are you guilty?”

WACK… WAAAACK… WAAACKKKKK!!!

“Yes-s-s!”

“Then I have to punish you!”

WACK… WAAAACK… WAAAAAAAAACKKKKK!!!

“NOOOOO… I’m not… AAAAAHHHHHH!!! I’m not guity!”

“You’re lying to me!”

WACK… WAAAACK… WAAAAAAAACKKKKK!!!

“NOOOOOOOOOOO… AGHHHH…. YEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS…. PLEEEEEASE…”

“OK, we’ll resume the questioning later… Time to get a break; my arm aches and my pussy is soaked…. time for you to lick it dry again, little whore….

The slave auction proprietress looked with a smile as her guests showed their excitement at the show being put on by her two well-whipped slavegirls, Gloria and Yvette. The Proprietress did usually arrange for small private auctions like this, but she had always found it a bit unfair for the working-class village women in the area frequently were not afforded the chance to acquire some pretty female slaves for their own uses. Sure, many women with money crowded the various auction houses around the prison, some buying a half-dozen girls at one time.

These regular village women mostly worked inside the womenТs prison, doing thankless work and missed out on the wonderful, nasty pleasures that the more well-connected and well-heeled lesbian women enjoyed. They were surprised to be invited for an afternoon СAuction PartyТ at the lesbian auction house and were enjoying themselves.

The Proprietress tended to like whipping and paddling her soon-to-be-sold slavegirls more than most sellers Ц but that was one of the reasons why she was in the business; being able to mistreat the girls and make them cry and then being able to sell them for a tidy profit

CТmon, girl! Shake that sweet ass! ThatТs right, do that dance! The village women were not shy expressing themselves .

The petite Gloria, originally from the States, and the tall, trim French Yvette both showed the effects of the ProprietressТs spankings and floggings on their bodies, but that didnТt prevent the invited group of village women from getting excited as the two crying slavegirls danced in front of them.

_________________________________________

Although Mistress Guzman was mostly ruthless and cruel in her dealings with those political sexslaves who were unfortunate enough to be place under her domination, there were times that she displayed a touch of tenderness Ц at least her own version of it. Guzman enjoyed nothing better than stringing up helpless young beauties after spending a weekТs time with them and extracting every last bit of pleasure that they could give her.

Their desperate attempts to stave off or avoid their fates made the prison girls the ideal sex prey; There was nothing that they denied Guzman and nothing that any of them would hesitate to do in order to perhaps survive another day or week.

Beautiful Wendy had managed to survive for almost two weeks. It had been rare for Mistress Guzman, with a reputation for enjoying putting her girl slaves to death within days of taking charge of them, to let one last this long Ц but Wendy had managed to keep GuzmanТs holes satisfied and ready for more. The Mistress had disposed of three other slavegirls within the time that Wendy had also spent with her. A wonderful example of WendyТs erotic talents.

But with Mistress Guzman, even the best things came to an end; Eventually Wendy had become just too familiar and too much a habit. Guzman was ready now to move on to sampling a new set of scared young things who had been shipped in. After all, she was rich ad could afford it

Mistress Guzman was pleased at how Wendy tearfully returned her wet, deep kisses. Too bad WendyТs time was finally up.

This is a nice way to end it, the Mistress breathed heavily in WendyТs face. LetТs keep on kissing like this and I promise to jerk the rope quickly instead of pulling you up slowly like the other girl, okay? Oh, yes, Wendy, youТve been such a pleaser! No need to make you suffer for very long.

_________________________________________

Even though it was a prison was political prisoners, the authorities in charge of it saw nothing wrong in being open to all methods of adding all sorts of additional revenues in order to keep the place as self-contained financially as possible. Of course, there were the monies being earned by those willing to pay Ц and quite handsomely Ц for the services of the younger sexslaves and for the right to enjoy being their private executioners. There was also the booming slave auction section that supplied the many brothels, sex shows and private citizens wanting houseslaves of their own.

But one steady revenue-maker was the often overlooked in-prison industry commanded by Mistress Diaz, the wonderful old widow of one of the PartyТs founding fathers. Leave it to a smart old codger like Mistress Diaz to think of a way of having an uninterrupted stream of revenue while heartily enjoying doing it at the same time. Diaz had met her famous husband when they both served as torturers for a now-forgotten Latin American regime way back when. They had stuck together ever since, but there was no retirement funding when Senor Diaz had died and Mrs. Diaz had to think of some way to support herself. Leave it to her to come up with a serve the PartyТs prison system and provide herself with a comfortable living.

So many cute young girls, hundreds of thousands every year, moving through the PartyТs lethal female political prison system. So much need also for a disposal system.

And so СMs. DiazТ brand of soaps came into being. People marveled at the unique feel of the heavily perfumed soaps. Ms. Diaz would never reveal her secret recipe for making the soaps, only saying that the СfattyТ feel of the soaps were the reason for their popularity.

The prison authorities were happy that they no long had to spend valuable time and land in the disposing of political prisoners

Come now, dear, donТt turn away. This ball gag will prevent you from upsetting everyone with needless screaming! We donТt want that, do we? And donТt you worry, rubber and leather strap are especially made so that they wonТt dissolve. Does that make you feel better?

The ruling Party wasn’t always so inflexible when dealing with legal-aged political prisoners or the legal-aged offspring of political prisoners.

Some of them were very fortunate, indeed; instead of being shipped off the designated South American penal colonies, they were blessed by being chosen to serve in their respective countries. There were always duties which they could perform to show their reformed attitudes toward those in Authority and many ways that the Authorities could give them the chance.

The Party had decided that the particularly attractive young ladies would be afforded a one-time opportunity to serve as domestic sexslaves and in the many whorehouses that just happened to be owned and operated by Party officials and their cronies.

But first, those ladies had to be broken and trained in the proper ways of repentance and subservience. Those who showed any resistance would

immediately be separated and put on the penal planes to South America; there was no need to waste any time with a few when there was such a big choice of pretty girls so desperate to cooperate.

Judge Inbuti love sentencing those lovely girls, handing down terms that would allow them to make the lives of is fellow Party members and their friends more enjoyable with the use of their willing mouths and tight holes. The Judge also liked nothing better than making sure that the girls he sentenced had a chance to show their appreciation before they were taken off to the Training Centers. He and his Court Staff loved fucking those fine young things with their tight, shaven pussies and assholes.

The Judge wasn’t too pleased to find that his Court Sergeant-at-Arms had already began to fuck the prisoner whom he had sentenced just a short time ago. But, he’d let the girl make it up to him by giving up her asshole for his long, hard fucking when he got her in his private chambers. He stroked his big cock, thinking of what he was going to do to her.

_________________________________________

The Training Center was where the girls just sentenced by the Court were brought to undergo a punishment, rape and humiliation program to determine whether they were fit to deserve being domestic or sex slaves. Those who showed the right traits were certain of an appreciative waiting clientele of Masters and Mistresses who would make good use of them in so many ways. In six months, these prisoners would be re-made and their attitudes readjusted; the Center’s administrators, trainers and guards would make sure of that.

Tanya sobbed with fear and distress as the guard named Ophilia dragged her into the Initiation Chamber for her first lessons. The Chamber was dank, humid and reeked with the smell of sex, pussy fluids and cum. Throughout the large dim chamber, Tanya could see the ongoing whippings and forced, perverted sex. She could see what was clearly in store for her.

“Come, girl, I want you to meet Officer Dermott,” Ophilia told her pretty prisoner. “He and I just love being the first ones here to welcome in a new thing like you. You can see by his cock that he’s glad to meet you also.”

“Mmmm, she’s a nice one, alright,” said Officer Dermott. “You want her first or can I go first?” His dick was throbbing, lengthening.

“I want her and to start getting to know each other first, if you don’t mind, honey,” Ophilia said.

She knew darn well that Dermott loved watching her expertly introduce a new girl to the arts of eating pussy and she enjoyed having him watch. A new girl usually took a long time in being able to bring her off, but Ophilia was a patient sort of woman who would let this frightened female captive know exactly what to do and how she wanted it done.

“You want that, don’t you, girl? You want to learn how to please my cunt with that pretty tongue of yours, don’t you?”

Tanya had no choice, no hope. “Yes, Miss Ophilia, please teach me.”

“I like this little gal,” Ophilia chuckled with pleasure. “ She’s not going to be hard to break, I think. Okay, let’s you and me and Officer Dermott here find a private room where I can start teaching you how to be my bitch. He’ll get off watching us. Then he will get his turn and give me a show.”

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Aside from the whippings and beatings, one of the hardest things for a new Center prisoner to get used to was having to take the large cocks of the male guards and trainers. The Training Center chose it’s male staff especially for their cock sizes; only by getting used to dealing with such oversized dicks in the Center would these prisoners be prepared for the hard lives of being fucked continuously in the homes and sex trade destinations of their new owners.

It was not unusual for a prison girl to have to deal with four or five different ten-plus inch cocks in one dayand night. By the time they were finally released for service, these girls would be the perfect sexslaves.

Wanda had been fucked for hours by the sentencing judge and his court staff, but nothing had prepared her for the life of sex in the Center. Her pussy was still trying to adjust to being stretched by the huge dicks from the men there. They were so rough on her. So crude in the way they would turn her over on her stomach and jam their meaty shafts into her ass, making her cry as they pounded and rammed her.

From her dingy, foul-smelling cell, Wanda could hear the pitiful sounds coming from the many other cells around her. Sounds of girls crying and begging for mercy as the male Staffers made their rounds, taking their pick of which pretty prisoner to be their bitches fir the night. There were tears in Wanda’s eyes also. Her pussy and ass were so sore from the abuse from this guard named simply as “Grande”.

For some reason, Grande had decided to claim Wanda solely for himself.

At first Wanda was glad of that, thinking that it would be better than having to satisfy number of different rapists during the nights and days. But she soon learned that Grande liked to fuck at least a dozen times each day. He was so virile, so demanding. His eleven-inch dick stretched and hurt Wanda in her deepest places. She was fortunate that the Center fed her birth control pills because her cunt was constantly full with Grande’s thick cum; whenever she stood or walked, globs of his semen dripped from her pussy and oozed out of her hard-used asshole.

Wanda sobbed quietly because Grande had fucked her so hard only an hour ago and now he was back for more.

The guard didn’t talk much, but he said to Wanda in his gruff voice, “Been thinking about you. Missed you. Want to fuck you now.” He sat on top of Wanda, ordering her to stroke that monster of a dick of his. “Uhhh, yeah-h-h, that’s it. Keep strokin’ it with those soft fingers.”

Wanda felt the guard’s cock growing harder and longer as she obediently thrilled it with her obedient hands.

“Just a bit more, girl, and then I’m going to fuck you like you never been fucked before….”

The lesbian female Staffers at the Training Center were as dedicated as the men when it came to sexually preparing their girl prisoners for their sexslave futures; after all, there was an equal chance that these slaves would be servicing the needs of women Superiors as much as men.

These Staffers had a duty to make sure that all the beautiful lady prisoners had the necessary skills to bring pleasure to the most demanding Mistresses and whores. It was easy to please men who only needed to use their needy cocks; pleasing other female owners and Superiors sometimes called for a more detailed education.

An education that the Women Staffers at the Center were all too willing to spend long hours teaching.

The Center was a 24-hour operation and there was no time that it didn’t have a full complement of horny female Staffers roaming among the prisoner cells making their choices of the poor girls who would be spending time learning how to use their captive mouths, lips and tongues on their Staffers’ demanding pussies and assholes. The prison girls would have to learn that nothing less than totally satisfying a Mistress would be acceptable.

Betty was presently being taught that lesson down in the Female Staffers’ Chambers. Her mouth tasted of vaginal female juices and with a more musky aftertaste that came from digging her tongue inside the lesbians’ assholes. They made her practice again and again, until she began to pleasure them in the way they all wanted.

As word spread of her improving abilities, more and more Mistresses began flocking to the Chamber in order to test Wanda for themselves. Even the ugly, loud-talking cook, Latisha, came down for the chance to use Betty’s services.

“Goddamnit, I works hard up there in that hot kitchen,” Latisha complained. “ I deserves me some satisfaction!”

“Yeah, bitch, keep that tongue goin’! You almost got her ready to cum! Keep lickin’ that black pussy of hers until she starts juicin’ all over your pretty face! I know your tongue must be tired, but there’s no fuckin’ excuse for you not getting’ her off, you hear me? Then it’ll be my turn again, so you better hurry up!

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The Training Center routine hardly ever varied. Girls were trained, some trained harder than other. But now as again, there was the prisoner who was just not measuring up to standards. These particular underachieving ladies were the unfortunate ones: What awaited them was the

Prospect of being sent to a more gruesome fate down in the penal colonies in South America where they treated women much less gently.

Hilary just wasn’t working out; the Staffers had concluded that she was holding back. Hilary just couldn’t seem to give in completely. There seemed to be a part of her that could accept being a slave, a slave whose life would be dedicated to pleasuring the cocks and pussies of her Superiors in any way they demanded of her. Yes, she did as she was told and instructed, but the Staffers were experienced experts at spotting when a slave prospect was failing to give up every bit of her soul. For Hilary ever to become an acceptable slave, she must be rid of every ounce of her identity and self-respect. Hilary seemed destined for failure and for South America.

Hilary panicked when informed that she had been marked for deportation. She begged and begged for a chance to redeem herself, to show that she was worthy of being a slave to any Party Superior or even for service in one of their whorehouses. Please, please. Give me one more chance, she begged the Centers Warden as she crawled on her belly across the office floor to his desk.

The Warden was touched by Hilary’s sincere pleadings and decided to give her one more chance.

“I’m going to see if you can convince me that you deserve to be a slave here and not be sent to that nasty place down in the colonies.” the Warden conceded. “Maybe your problem is that you need a bit more punishment training to make you into the nice little bitch we want you to be. Me and some friends I know will personally put in the time needed to break you completely. But I warn you that very few bitches have been able to withstand this process. It would be six months of nothing but pain and humiliation and afterwards you won’t even be able to remember your original name. You will be a complete slave and you’ll want nothing out of life other than pleasuring your Superiors. You’ll even be happy to be put to work as a whore on the street corners in the ghettos if we decide to send you there. I promise that you’ll have no dignity or self-worth left in you after we’re done. Are you sure about this? At times, you’ll wish for death.”

Hilary said yes, shakily begging that anything would be better than being sent to South America.

“Alright then,” smiled the Warden, his cock beginning to swell in his trousers at the thought of what was coming. “ You will be taken back to your cell now. I will make arrangements, then I will come down with my belt, which I’m so good at using on sweet girls like you.”

Later that night, Hilary was forced to act and beg like a lowly whore while the Warden started to ride her with his big cock. She cried at the thought of the coming six months of non-stop beatings and punishment. She begged the Warden just like she told to.

“Please fuck me, Master! Please beat me! Make me wish I had never been born! Please!” Hilary pleaded as she moved her hips to response to his brutal fucking.

“Beg me more, bitch! You gotta beg better than that! When I finished fucking you, I’m gonna be beating you all night!

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Upon finishing their stints at the Training Center, the broken slaves were ready to be assigned and delivered to their various destinations. Some slaves were going into service as domestic house and sex slaves; other girls were destined to service endless cocks in the Party-owned brothels; others yet were bound to serve in the well-maintained lesbian whorehouses for Party women and their friends.

As usual, the Staffers were very proud of their work, glad that the girls that they had broken so well would be bringing so much pleasure into the lives of those whom would be using them. The Staff would need a few days of rest. So many cocks needed to recover from so much fucking; new supplies of cum needed to be generated by overworked testicles. And so many female Staffer pussies needed to rest from the rigors of having so many orgasms so many times during the days and nights. All that pleasure tended to exhaust the Staffers like any other hard work.

And there was yet another delivery of pretty young, unbroken, untrained girl prisoners arriving within a couple of days.

Over in the far corner, waiting for her new owner to pick her up, was that slave named “Monica”. They said that her original name was Hilary or something like that. No one was quite sure. All anyone was sure of was that ‘Monica’ was such a good fuck, one of the best they had experienced. Even the female Staffers were sorry to see her go; they loved how she would open her mouth wide after a long pussy-eating session, open her mouth so wide so that the Mistresses could easily piss down her throat, emptying their urine-filled bladders. ‘Monica’ accepted it all, her beautiful eyes wide as she swallowed it down and thanked them so sincerely. ‘Monica’ was perfect. She would be missed.

Monica was trussed and waiting to be picked up by her new owner, Miss Allie, the Madam of the infamous lesbian whorehouse that catered to more darker side of the lesbian sex trade. The rumor was that Monica was destined to be Miss Allie’s latest ‘Toilet Throat’ girl, an attraction that had her female clients literally lining up to take their part in…

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