I like this one ... such a reversal in fortune and quite a comedown ... well done as always, but this one especially caught my fancy.
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Vignettes from the slave pits
- Thread starter theseus
- Start date
I like this one ... such a reversal in fortune and quite a comedown ... well done as always, but this one especially caught my fancy.
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Lisa.
It had taken her a while to make the decision. It had been a secret desire for a long time, but she had always been concerned about the effect it would have on her parents.
Then, while she was walking down the street, she decided. It was her life, her body! She could do as she wished.
Passers-by stared as she stripped, right there in the leafy suburban street!
Naked, and free at last, she walked to the house of the man who would sell her as a slave!
It had taken her a while to make the decision. It had been a secret desire for a long time, but she had always been concerned about the effect it would have on her parents.
Then, while she was walking down the street, she decided. It was her life, her body! She could do as she wished.
Passers-by stared as she stripped, right there in the leafy suburban street!
Naked, and free at last, she walked to the house of the man who would sell her as a slave!
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Lynda
For months her husband had been encouraging her to work out, to hone her body to perfection. She had enjoyed the challenge, proud of her muscular figure.
When the bathroom door opened she thought it was her husband. Instead two men entered. One offered her a document that said that she had been sold as a slave.
The second produced a set of chains.
For months her husband had been encouraging her to work out, to hone her body to perfection. She had enjoyed the challenge, proud of her muscular figure.
When the bathroom door opened she thought it was her husband. Instead two men entered. One offered her a document that said that she had been sold as a slave.
The second produced a set of chains.
piraland
Tribune
She is really pretty and looks happy to be naked! Nudity is freedom and being sold as a slave must excite her to the highest degree! Too bad I do not know the address, I would have invested a good amount of money to take her, to buy her!
But her plan went awry. Before she got there she was nabbed by the public decency patrol, dragged before a judge, who condemned her to be crucified in a public park.
piraland
Tribune
Every age has its charm and, despite the chaotic life she has gone through, she can still give a lot of pleasure to a man!
She remained very pretty.
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
You are so cruel! Just when she was looking forward to a happy life as a fuckslave.
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Margaret’s Gambling Debt.
“Does this have to be done like this?”
Margaret’s voice was plaintive, begging.
“I told you the last time you did this that I would not bail you out again! You ignored me! You maxed out on your credit cards, ran up gambling debts and borrowed from the backstreet moneylenders. Now it’s up to you to pay them back.”
“Please? I’ll get a job. I’ll repay them somehow. Please?”
“Margaret, it’s too late for that. We’ve been through this. You are going to earn the money on your back, in a whorehouse. If you work hard, do lots of specials and shows, you should pay off your debt and the interest in a year or so. Then I will take you back. Not as my wife, but as the slave slut you will have become.”
Margaret sobbed. “Does it have to be like this? In chains? Naked? Can’t I have a robe or something? Please?”
I shook my head. “These are the conditions. I will put you out with the trash! That is all you are. You will be collected when they are ready. In the meantime you will stand out in the street for everyone to see what you have become.”
I took hold of the chain attached to her collar. She sobbed bitterly as I led her outside, locking her chains to the fence. The sign at her feet said it all.
“New whore for the Bitch Ranch.”
“Does this have to be done like this?”
Margaret’s voice was plaintive, begging.
“I told you the last time you did this that I would not bail you out again! You ignored me! You maxed out on your credit cards, ran up gambling debts and borrowed from the backstreet moneylenders. Now it’s up to you to pay them back.”
“Please? I’ll get a job. I’ll repay them somehow. Please?”
“Margaret, it’s too late for that. We’ve been through this. You are going to earn the money on your back, in a whorehouse. If you work hard, do lots of specials and shows, you should pay off your debt and the interest in a year or so. Then I will take you back. Not as my wife, but as the slave slut you will have become.”
Margaret sobbed. “Does it have to be like this? In chains? Naked? Can’t I have a robe or something? Please?”
I shook my head. “These are the conditions. I will put you out with the trash! That is all you are. You will be collected when they are ready. In the meantime you will stand out in the street for everyone to see what you have become.”
I took hold of the chain attached to her collar. She sobbed bitterly as I led her outside, locking her chains to the fence. The sign at her feet said it all.
“New whore for the Bitch Ranch.”
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Slave quarters
This was not how Cynthia imagined it would be.
When she had applied to come to the farm she had visions of herself as an odalisque in a harem. A sex slave living in a comfortable palace, taking long, languorous baths and sleeping in soft beds after passionate lovemaking with a handsome stud.
This was the reality! In her four days at the Farm she had spent twelve hours a day labouring in the fields, digging drainage ditches. She had been punished because there was a trace of dirt on the blade of her hoe when she handed it in at the end of the day, a dozen excruciating strokes of the cane!
There had certainly been sex. The overseers were all massively endowed and seemed to be constantly erect. No soft beds and silken sheets for her. Buggered face down in the mud of the ditch, then whipped back to work the moment the overseer withdrew. She had lost count of the cocks she had serviced.
After her shift she was herded back here, fed a revolting mess and finally allowed to rest her weary body. If she was lucky she only had to service two or three of the overseers. Then she would be allowed to curl up on this hard, narrow shelf for a few hours sleep.
If she could sleep. It was cold, very cold, and there were no blankets. She shivered violently. The experienced slaves told her to be nice to the overseers, then perhaps she would be allowed to sleep in the kennels. It was warmer there, and the food was better.
“There is a price to pay, of course.” The wrinkled old slave smiled at her, showing the gap where her front teeth had been, “but they’re no worse than the overseers. And it’s warm.”
Her teeth chattered. “Never!” She thought. “But then…it would be nice to be warm.”
This was not how Cynthia imagined it would be.
When she had applied to come to the farm she had visions of herself as an odalisque in a harem. A sex slave living in a comfortable palace, taking long, languorous baths and sleeping in soft beds after passionate lovemaking with a handsome stud.
This was the reality! In her four days at the Farm she had spent twelve hours a day labouring in the fields, digging drainage ditches. She had been punished because there was a trace of dirt on the blade of her hoe when she handed it in at the end of the day, a dozen excruciating strokes of the cane!
There had certainly been sex. The overseers were all massively endowed and seemed to be constantly erect. No soft beds and silken sheets for her. Buggered face down in the mud of the ditch, then whipped back to work the moment the overseer withdrew. She had lost count of the cocks she had serviced.
After her shift she was herded back here, fed a revolting mess and finally allowed to rest her weary body. If she was lucky she only had to service two or three of the overseers. Then she would be allowed to curl up on this hard, narrow shelf for a few hours sleep.
If she could sleep. It was cold, very cold, and there were no blankets. She shivered violently. The experienced slaves told her to be nice to the overseers, then perhaps she would be allowed to sleep in the kennels. It was warmer there, and the food was better.
“There is a price to pay, of course.” The wrinkled old slave smiled at her, showing the gap where her front teeth had been, “but they’re no worse than the overseers. And it’s warm.”
Her teeth chattered. “Never!” She thought. “But then…it would be nice to be warm.”
Here's one I posted in response to a pic on the Asian Paddle thread,
that doesn't get the visitors it deserves:
Like crimson flowers ...
Each night the girls who've earned the highest number of Punishment Points
are told we must report to the Punishment Yard at dawn.
The Punishment Yard! We've seen it on our way out to labour in the fields,
at the far corner of the Re-education Camp, a bleak, high concrete wall with a heavy iron gate.
And we've heard the shrieks and cries, like demented seagulls.
And we've seen the bleeding bottoms of the girls who've been punished ...
and today it's my turn ...
Just me and Mi Ling.
We wait outside the iron gate, shivering in the cold light of dawn,
not daring to speak. The wait seems endless, at last a key turns in the lock,
our bodies stiffen. We walk in, heads bowed.
All I see are posts, and a bin holding several thick bamboo canes.
"脱衣服！Tuō yīfú!"
We quickly strip off our light prison tunics that hardly cover our behinds,
the coarse g-strings, cheap sandals. Don't try to hide ourselves,
no use worrying about modesty. He's looking at us,
our bodies, up and down.
"手腕！Shǒuwàn!"
We hold out our wrists, still not daring to look him in the eye.
Rough ropes are tied tight. He nods at Mi Ling.
"你先！Nǐ xiān!"
Ling steps forward she's sniffing, trying not to cry.
Her bound wrists are tied to the nearest post,
quite low, so she has to bend.
I don't want to watch, but I know I must.
Stand firm, legs wide, my bound wrists behind my head,
the way we girls have to stand for Inspection.
My breasts are quivering, sweating with terror.
The savagery is shocking, the brute swipes the youngster,
barely half his height and a quarter of his weight,
as if he's intending to butcher her.
He doesn't hurry, pausing between blows,
while the girl squirms and struggles,
knowing she must keep up on her feet,
squealing at every slash of the cane,
howling as the pain fills here shaking trunk,
lapsing into sobbing while he fetches a fresh cane,
makes sure she's lined up for the next stroke...
Twenty Punishment Points is Mi Ling's tariff -
I know I've got twenty-four.
I watch her skin redden, deep crimson stripes,
spreading black bruises, cover her whole pert buttocks,
my loins quiver, anticipating how it will feel ...
At last, poor Mi Ling's Punishment is ended,
he flicks loose the knotted rope from her wrist,
grabs her and swings her round, flings her across the floor,
she lies, shaking, sobbing
a pattern of spots of blood spatters the floor
like little crimson flowers. Needing no orders
I step across them in my bare feet,
turn to the post and hold out my wrists,
ready to be tied ...
I grip the post, I feel his hand as he steadies my hips,
preparing his target ...
the whoosh of the cane ...
that doesn't get the visitors it deserves:
Like crimson flowers ...Each night the girls who've earned the highest number of Punishment Points
are told we must report to the Punishment Yard at dawn.
The Punishment Yard! We've seen it on our way out to labour in the fields,
at the far corner of the Re-education Camp, a bleak, high concrete wall with a heavy iron gate.
And we've heard the shrieks and cries, like demented seagulls.
And we've seen the bleeding bottoms of the girls who've been punished ...
and today it's my turn ...
Just me and Mi Ling.
We wait outside the iron gate, shivering in the cold light of dawn,
not daring to speak. The wait seems endless, at last a key turns in the lock,
our bodies stiffen. We walk in, heads bowed.
All I see are posts, and a bin holding several thick bamboo canes.
"脱衣服！Tuō yīfú!"
We quickly strip off our light prison tunics that hardly cover our behinds,
the coarse g-strings, cheap sandals. Don't try to hide ourselves,
no use worrying about modesty. He's looking at us,
our bodies, up and down.
"手腕！Shǒuwàn!"
We hold out our wrists, still not daring to look him in the eye.
Rough ropes are tied tight. He nods at Mi Ling.
"你先！Nǐ xiān!"
Ling steps forward she's sniffing, trying not to cry.
Her bound wrists are tied to the nearest post,
quite low, so she has to bend.
I don't want to watch, but I know I must.
Stand firm, legs wide, my bound wrists behind my head,
the way we girls have to stand for Inspection.
My breasts are quivering, sweating with terror.
The savagery is shocking, the brute swipes the youngster,
barely half his height and a quarter of his weight,
as if he's intending to butcher her.
He doesn't hurry, pausing between blows,
while the girl squirms and struggles,
knowing she must keep up on her feet,
squealing at every slash of the cane,
howling as the pain fills here shaking trunk,
lapsing into sobbing while he fetches a fresh cane,
makes sure she's lined up for the next stroke...
Twenty Punishment Points is Mi Ling's tariff -
I know I've got twenty-four.
I watch her skin redden, deep crimson stripes,
spreading black bruises, cover her whole pert buttocks,
my loins quiver, anticipating how it will feel ...
At last, poor Mi Ling's Punishment is ended,
he flicks loose the knotted rope from her wrist,
grabs her and swings her round, flings her across the floor,
she lies, shaking, sobbing
a pattern of spots of blood spatters the floor
like little crimson flowers. Needing no orders
I step across them in my bare feet,
turn to the post and hold out my wrists,
ready to be tied ...
I grip the post, I feel his hand as he steadies my hips,
preparing his target ...
the whoosh of the cane ...
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Realisation
“Oh my god! This is real!”
Laura tugged at the steel collar circling her neck, feeling the weight of her shackles pulling at the wrists.
She tugged at the collar again. “Surely there is some way of removing this? I can’t be like this for the rest of my life!”
Standing against the wall in the processing centre she knew the answers to those questions. She had done this of her own free will. She had sold herself as a slave. For life! The only way to remove her new accessories was by cutting them off. With an acetylene torch!
Why was she so excited? Her nipples were hard, she was dripping wet. Soon they would come for her, come to take her to the showrooms. To be exhibited to potential buyers, to be examined by men and women who would bid for ownership of her body. She had visited the showrooms twice before making the decision to sell herself. She knew that anyone could come in and examine the slaves; in fact it was common for people to come in merely to ogle, to fondle, to play with the property on display. Her pussy gushed at the thought.
Once sold, she would be branded, the red-hot iron burning the mark indelibly into her flesh! Then she would truly be property.
She tugged at her collar again. “Come on! Why is this taking so long! Take me into the showroom! I want to be sold!”
“Oh my god! This is real!”
Laura tugged at the steel collar circling her neck, feeling the weight of her shackles pulling at the wrists.
She tugged at the collar again. “Surely there is some way of removing this? I can’t be like this for the rest of my life!”
Standing against the wall in the processing centre she knew the answers to those questions. She had done this of her own free will. She had sold herself as a slave. For life! The only way to remove her new accessories was by cutting them off. With an acetylene torch!
Why was she so excited? Her nipples were hard, she was dripping wet. Soon they would come for her, come to take her to the showrooms. To be exhibited to potential buyers, to be examined by men and women who would bid for ownership of her body. She had visited the showrooms twice before making the decision to sell herself. She knew that anyone could come in and examine the slaves; in fact it was common for people to come in merely to ogle, to fondle, to play with the property on display. Her pussy gushed at the thought.
Once sold, she would be branded, the red-hot iron burning the mark indelibly into her flesh! Then she would truly be property.
She tugged at her collar again. “Come on! Why is this taking so long! Take me into the showroom! I want to be sold!”
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Meghan.
Meghan was a domme. She had owned several slaves on short leases. Then she became curious about switching roles.
She wondered what it would feel like to have to submit to another person?
She was not one to take half measures. When she returned her most recent slave, Susan, to the agency, she promptly signed up as a slave for a year.
Now she is in the viewing pen, next to the woman she owned just a few hours before. Already she can feel the twinge of apprehension in her belly as buyers examine her. Who will buy her? What will they do with her?
Meghan was a domme. She had owned several slaves on short leases. Then she became curious about switching roles.
She wondered what it would feel like to have to submit to another person?
She was not one to take half measures. When she returned her most recent slave, Susan, to the agency, she promptly signed up as a slave for a year.
Now she is in the viewing pen, next to the woman she owned just a few hours before. Already she can feel the twinge of apprehension in her belly as buyers examine her. Who will buy her? What will they do with her?
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Miss Pearson.
The young teacher had successfully hidden her secret from her colleagues and her students.
The hijack of the school group had changed that. Stripped naked together with her students, there was no way to hide her secret.
Their captors were fascinated. This attractive curiousity was worth a small fortune.
The guards took turns coaxing her to full erection, enjoying the spectacle of a hard cock and soft tits.
Her students are equally fascinated. For most this is the first, but certainly not the last, cock they will see.
The young teacher had successfully hidden her secret from her colleagues and her students.
The hijack of the school group had changed that. Stripped naked together with her students, there was no way to hide her secret.
Their captors were fascinated. This attractive curiousity was worth a small fortune.
The guards took turns coaxing her to full erection, enjoying the spectacle of a hard cock and soft tits.
Her students are equally fascinated. For most this is the first, but certainly not the last, cock they will see.
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Kitchen DutyKitchen duty was always popular at The Farm. After all, the slaves got to eat the leftover scraps, so much better than the tasteless slop in the slave pens. It was warm in the kitchen, despite the freezing rain rattling against the windows. If they were really lucky they would be allowed to serve one of the guests with their bodies for the night.
They used all their wiles to achieve this.
The alternative was to be taken back to the freezing slave pens, where the naked slaves lay huddled together trying to keep warm. Even the kennels were a better option.
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Fuckholes
This was all she was, now. A pair of fuckholes for her Master to choose from. Gone was her status as an up and coming academic, the youngest Ph.D. in decades. Gone was the comfortable life of an attractive young professional.
This was all that was left. Two fuckholes, waiting for a cock!
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
The Rubicon.
The point of no return. This stream was only a hundred yards from the slave receiving centre at The Farm. They could still turn back, although it would be very embarrassing. Their clothes were locked in their car, which would, by now, have been removed to safe storage.
It would be embarrassing to turn back, but it would be safe, a return to the known.
Ahead lay all the unknown, forbidden, exciting experiences of slavery. Chains, punishment, sex! Especially sex! Their deepest desires, their greatest fears.
They took a deep breath, and fingers twined, crossed their personal Rubicon into a new world.
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Fresh Meat
"What will the Pastor think?" That was the thought constantly repeating as Claire waited her turn to be processed. Processed. The word seemed to underline what she was about to become. A commodity! An object! Already the sun was burning into tender skin never before exposed outdoors. Her milky breasts, her newly, permanently, depilated mound. She heard the moan of the girl ahead of her as the barcode was tattooed on her mound. She was next. The mark of her status indelibly inked onto her most intimate part. Instinctively she tried to cover herself, forgetting the cuffs keeping her hands behind her. Soon they would be replaced by the heavy shackles and chains of a field slave.
Coming to The Farm was an act of rebellion. rebellion against all the strictures of the church, her family and society. Here she would discover what those 'abominations' the pastor thundered about every Sunday really were. Such as the sin of Sodom, what was that really? There were so many things hinted at, alluded to, but never spoken about. What were these things really, and were they really so bad, so sinful?
She hoped to find out in the next three months of no limit slavery.
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
The candleholder.
Amelia’s owner had a sense of humour. At least, he thought so. Tonight he was having a romantic candlelit dinner with his fiancé. For the first time she would be introduced to his “collection.”
Amelia had been chosen to be one of the two candleholders. She would have to remain in her uncomfortable position, motionless, for the duration of dinner. Just another evening in the life of a slave.
She waited patiently for the butler to insert and light the candles.
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
The Summer Break
For Jane and Clara their arrival at The Farm was a time of great excitement. For the first time in their lives they were naked outside.
Ahead of them lay a whole new world!
For the next two months, their entire summer break, they would be slaves here at The Farm. Now they could do all those things their parents and society considered to be taboo, obscene, perverted.
They were quivering in anticipation as they reached the head of the line of new slaves, ready to be barcoded and fitted with their slave collars and chains.