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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