Stress Relief.
Another day! Another long, stressful board meeting! Genevieve wanted to strangle somebody! She wanted to shriek, to scream invective at the fools who would not, could not, understand that the business world was changing, and that a failure to change with it would mean bankruptcy.
She had a pounding headache. She desperately needed to get home and have a drink, simply to relieve the stress, but there was still so much to do. Being CEO of a company that was going downhill was turning her into an old, bitchy hag. An old, bitchy hag who was drinking too much, eating badly, aging rapidly!
Her doctor made no attempt to soften the blow. “You are severely, dangerously, stressed. You need to take six months off! Get away from your phone, your laptop. Forget about this company before it kills you!” She and her doctor had been best friends at school, there was no politeness here. “Look at yourself, Gen, look at yourself! You work fourteen hours a day, seven days a week! When did you last take a holiday?”
Genevieve thought for a while. “There was that weekend in Acapulco, what, two years ago?”
“I remember that one.” Shirley said grimly. “It was between two long conferences. You spent the weekend in your room, drank a couple of bottles of Scotch, and called me because you felt shit! Some holiday!” Shirley put an arm around her friend and patient. “Seriously, Gen, this job is going to kill you. It’s a lost cause! Bail out. Now!” Genevieve was silent, numb. Shirley smiled, “I bet you can’t even remember when last you got laid!”
“Come, let’s go for a walk. You need the exercise.” Genevieve followed her friend out into the street. On the walk to the park she realised how unfit she was. “I can hear you panting, when last did you walk further than your car, or from your office to the boardroom?”
The park was quiet, shady, almost deserted. They found a bench among the trees and for a while sat silent, watching a pair of squirrels chasing each other through the trees. “No doubt what’s on their minds,” Shirley grinned. Her voice became serious. “Remember those fantasies we had back at school? When we used to cuddle together in my bed?”
Genevieve smiled, sadly. “We used to fool around, and talk about boys, and invent fantasies about being slaves in a Sultan’s harem, or on a plantation.” She sighed, “those were such fun, innocent days.”
Shirley fished in her handbag, came out with a card. “You need to live that fantasy. Take six months away from this world. Become a slave. Work hard, physically.” She smiled, taking Genevieve’s hand, “get fucked, regularly and often! Especially that!” She handed Genevieve the card. “I spent two months at this place last summer.” She smiled, sweetly. “I am going back there this summer, although I can only take six weeks off this time.” Her smile widened, “There is one of the overseers,” She moved her hands about a foot apart, “not to mention his dog.” Her voice became brisk. “Go home! Right now. Have a stiff drink. Just one! Get onto your laptop and contact them. Take the ‘No Limits’ option. Six months. Then write to your Chairman and resign!”
Two weeks later Genevieve parked her car in the parking area in the forest, got undressed, left her keys and clothes in the car, and nude and barefoot, started the painful walk up the rocky trail to The Farm.
Two days later Genevieve screamed into her gag as the clamps bit into the tender flesh of her nipples.
“Oh, fuck! That hurts! Fuck!” It all came out as a gurgle around the ballgag. She wanted to take those clamps off, to do something to ease the pain. She struggled against the handcuffs securing her hands behind her back. Helpless to do anything about this new sensation.
The last two days had been full of new sensations. The total exposure of constant nudity. The first burning sting of the whip. The experience of being chained, of being treated as an object. She didn’t have to make any decisions; she didn’t have to think. All she had to do was obey.
She met the overseers. Met? Well perhaps that was not the right word. The chief overseer, a massively built black man named Leroy, had run his hands, hard, strong, calloused hands, over her body. “Six months, no limits. You’re brave, no mistake.” His voice was a deep, melodious drawl. He opened the flies of his jeans. “Open your mouth, slut!” Her eyes crossing as she looked at the length and girth of the black cock in front of her face her thought was, “No way I’ll even get the head of that into my mouth.”
Two gagging, choking minutes later her lips were clamped tight around the base of the cock, the rest of it deep in her throat!
Still gasping, her throat raw, the taste of cum filling her mouth, she staggered to her feet, helped by the hand grasping her hair. “We’ll turn you into a good cocksucker, slut. Maclean!” The man who came jogging along was smaller that the black man, but no less well built.
“This slave has signed up for six months, no limits. She needs a lot of cocksucking practice. She needs a good fucking, and I’ve had a busy day. Cunt and Ass! Make it good!”
Maclean came to attention. “Sah!” He bellowed.
Gripping a nipple between thumb and forefinger, he led her to a rail fence. He bent her over it and quickly, efficiently, cuffed her hands to her ankles. She was bent over, ass in the air. Totally exposed to the eyes of anybody passing by. A coffle of young slave girls, connected by chains attached to their clit rings, passed by. One of them, a petite redhead, giggled. “She’s got Maclean! Oh, are you going to stretch, girl, are you going to stretch!” She gasped as a whip cracked, laying a fiery line across tight buttocks. “Save your breath for the cart, Vixen.”
Between her legs Genevieve saw the legs of the overseer, now naked, approach. “OH, MY GOD!” Her scream tore the air as something that felt like a fence post drove forcefully into her vagina. “Oh, my God!” She was being torn in half, split! This was impossible! In the distance she heard a laughing young voice. “Titan just drove home! Stretch, girl!”
It seemed to go on forever. He was like a machine, pistoning into her, tirelessly! Finally, there was a hot stream in the depths of her body, the sudden feeling of empty abandonment as he left her. She slumped over the rail, gasping with relief, and, amazingly, pleasure. “Cunt fucked, Sah!” The man seemed to be incapable of saying anything in less than a bellow.
She heard him hawk, then a splat of spittle land on her exposed anus. “No!” Her mind screamed. She was an anal virgin. She realised that was about to change. “Is your arse virgin, girl?”
“Yes,” she croaked.
“I’ll be gentle, then.” She screamed as she felt the blunt head touch her virgin anus. The scream changed to something unearthly as the pressure increased and the sphincter surrendered to the inevitable.
She didn’t sleep much that night. Her body was sore, the stretched orifices aching and burning, her bowels cramping from the loads of semen deposited there. Her throat was raw. She felt better than she had for months! The young man who shared the narrow bed and the small, thin blanket with her sobbed softly. He was slim, beautifully built. His balls were swollen, held by the tight steel ring that secured the tiny cage containing his swollen cock. He had cried into the valley between her breasts. “They made me…” he sobbed, “they made me…suck…suck their… Three of them! And then…it hurts! It hurst! They said it would be easier, but…it hurts!”
She cradled him in her arms, rocking him gently, trying to console him. He had come here voluntarily, for a month. He thought he would be fucking slave girls. He had never, for a moment, dreamed that his cock would be locked in a steel cage, and the he would be buggered. As she stroked his back to comfort him, her hands wandered over his buttocks. She smiled as she understood the attraction of those firm globes.
Her own burning passage sympathised with his tears.
Now she was on the way to the work camp. They were building a new road, that would be hard, brutal work, but first she had to walk there.
With every movement the clamps tugged at her nipples, every movement generating its own little flash of pain. Her hands were cuffed behind her back.
She had acquired a new name. Genevieve was no more, at least not for the next six months. She was now slave Fuckwit! Her collar, made of links with sharp spikes, dug into her throat. Those accursed clamps bit into her nipples, so sensitive, such instruments of pleasure! And pain!
She looked down at her smooth, now permanently smooth, sex. At least, unlike those girls she saw on the first day, it was not pierced. Yet! She wondered what that would feel like? What would it be like to be connected to another person by a chain, connected to her clitoris? To that sensitive little nub, that source of immense pleasure. She shuddered at the thought. But…perhaps…?
The overseer locked her arms into a yoke attached to a collar. Her arms were now uncomfortably held wide apart, at shoulder level. Soon, her shoulders ached. She couldn’t allow them to relax. If she did, the spikes in the collar dug into her neck.
“Get on with it, Fuckwit! Six miles to the building site. Get going!” The whip laid a fiery streak of pain across her back. The road was covered in sharp stones. Her poor feet! The whip cracked again! Fiery pain! She trotted!
It seemed like an eternity. They had to be almost there, surely?
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He said. “You look very comfortable. Too comfortable.” He attached two little buckets to the clamps. The extra weight made them tighter, as well as pulling her nipples down. He dropped four pebbles in each bucket. “I guess you kind of lost track of how far we’ve come. So, to help you I’ll drop in a pebble every quarter of a mile.”
She screamed through her gag! Four pebbles! One every quarter of a mile! He must have miscounted. It couldn’t be that they had only come a mile? Surely not!
The whip cracked across her butt! “Come on! I don’t have all day! I’m looking forward to a nice cold beer when we get there.”
She stumbled forward. She had been dribbling ever since they strapped that gag into her mouth. She was parched! She had visions of that beer, condensation forming on the glass. CRAACK! The whip interrupted her thoughts. One painful, bruised cut foot in front of the other.
CRAACK!
She walked. Every eternity he added a pebble. Every eternity the clamps tightened; her nipples stretched a bit more. Every eternity she was thirstier, her feet hurt more. Every eternity the whip cracked more often.
Fuckwit walked on, in the heat of the desert, every part of her body aching, sore. She now had twenty pebbles in each bucket. Almost there! Then the hard labour would start. And the hard fucking, she hoped!
Genevieve had never felt so alive! This was her dream, her fantasy. This was what she wanted? Fuck the Chairman, fuck the board of directors, fuck the company! This was what she was meant to be! A naked slave.
Her mind turned into scheming mode. Now, how to assigned to be Maclean’s personal fuckslave?
This story was written at the suggestion of Sultry Fiefdom, who also supplied the pictures.
