Vignettes from the slave pits

[theseus]

The Greeting.



Lynda sincerely believed in her marriage vows. Love, honour and obey!

She obeyed her husband in everything. Everything!

A few months ago he had joined a kink group. He started requiring her to be naked at home. Their sex life became adventurous, unorthodox, weird, and very, very exciting. She went along, willingly, well, mostly.

She became used to being naked in front of their friends, even in front of strangers whom he invited to their house. She did not enjoy it, but he wished it.

Love, honour and obey!

He decided what she would wear when they went out. It was a long time since she had been allowed to wear underwear. The clothes she was allowed to wear were revealing, flimsy, often indecent. Even when they went to church, as they did three times a week. She was slowly sliding into the abyss.

A few days previously he had made a new rule. As she knelt, naked as always at his feet, he explained the new rule she would follow. “I feel that you have not been sufficiently welcoming to the guests in this house.” She looked up at him, wanting to protest. She was a good hostess, even if she was embarrassed by her constant nudity. “From now on you will welcome every male who enters this house in a way that leaves him in no doubt that he is completely welcome!”

She listened, aghast, as he explained how she was required to welcome male guests. She wanted to protest! This was too much! He couldn’t expect her to do this! Then she remembered her marriage vows.

Love, honour and obey!

Her husband watched approvingly as the mailman entered the house, a parcel in his hand. The young man was amazed to be greeted by a naked woman, then was even more surprised when she knelt in front of him, and, undoing his trousers, took him deep into her throat.

Her husband nodded. “Very good, my dear. You may not need correction this evening.”

Lynda swallowed convulsively, careful not to spill a drop.

Love, honour and obey!

 

[theseus]

Kharma! (Hosted at BDSMLR)

Sophia’s life had changed immeasurably in just a week. She and her sister Abigail had been on their way back to England from India on Daddy’s yacht. They had been waited on hand and foot; their every whim satisfied instantly. Then as the ship entered the Red Sea the pirates had struck.

The two girls found themselves naked, their hands tied to the saddle of a camel, walking for days through the desert. She had realised one of her ambitions, seeing the pyramids, but not quite the way she had envisaged. Instead of seeing them from the comfort of a carriage, she had seen them while huddled in the meagre shade provided by the camel she was tied to. She had cuddled her sister, the two girls sobbing in their misery.

Nothing could be worse than this!

That was then.

A day later things were much worse! They had been taken to a slave dealer. Her screams had echoed off the walls of the souk as a red-hot needle was forced through the tender flesh of her clit! Followed by a steel ring.

Now that ring was connected by a short length of chain to a display table. The pain prevented her from closing her legs, a situation greatly appreciated by the prospective buyers, drawn by the sight of two naked white girls. Every inch of her body was inspected, prodded, squeezed and probed. The dealer rubbed his hands. He had paid the Bedouin well for the two girls, but already the bids made ensured him an outrageous profit.

A gnarled finger probed her most private place, finding the desired membrane. The bids doubled; the dealer rubbed his hands.

Sophia thought nostalgically of their former life in India. The luxury, the servants, the despised slaves. Now she was one of those. A slave. Something with a status lower than a dog.

Kharma!

 

[theseus]

The Pyramids



Sophia had always wanted to see the pyramids! When daddy sent her and her sister Abigail home from India in his yacht, through the new Suez Canal, she knew she would realise her dream.

Unfortunately, the reality was not quite like the dream. She had imagined them riding into the desert in a luxurious carriage, well shaded, sipping cool champagne as the admired the ancient monuments.

The reality was somewhat different.

The pyramids were indeed magnificent, almost unbelievable in their size and grandeur. For the two girls there was no carriage, no shade, no cool French champagne. Instead they were naked, sunburnt, more thirsty than they could have imagined just a few weeks before. Their bare feet were sore, virgin vaginas sore from the ring that pierced their most private place and the constant tug of the chain that attached them to the saddle on the camel. They had walked for days, all the way from the coast.

The Arab who had bought them from the pirates was taking them to the market in Cairo. He often looked at the two tasty morsels trailing behind him, mentally counting the coins he would get for them. He had left them intact, knowing the value of virginity. However, his definition of virginity was narrow. There was only one hole that had a hymen. The other two were for his pleasure, a pleasure he relished and enjoyed, often.

He sat in the shade of a tent, sipping tea with his fellows, discussing the market, where best to dispose of his two little treasures. Out in the sun, Sophia gazed at the pyramids. They were magnificent! She wished she had never seen them!

 

[theseus]

Realising the Dream



For more years than she could remember Heidi had dreamed about being a slave. As she grew up the dream had changed and evolved. She had enjoyed many slavery fantasies, but had never managed to make the fantasies real.

Now, finally, it was real!

It had not been easy! Several times she had almost committed herself, but each time she had cold feet. Now she had done it!

Her prospective Master had had long conversations with her, had told her what to expect. It was all so exciting! So taboo! So erotic!

She was shy as she undressed in front of him. Not that she was normally shy, but this man, this comparative stranger, would own her! She would become his property, his chattel. She had agreed that there would be no limits to her use. “No limits? Are you sure?” His eyebrows lifted warningly. “No limits? Do you know what that means? This is not a game!”

She had nodded. “No limits. You can do anything you please. I want to be a complete slave.”

She hadn’t expected this! She thought he would chain her, but to restrain her like this? She was uncomfortable and she was so exposed! In this position she knew that her pussy would be gaping, open, inviting! Her anus, her virgin anus, was equally open and exposed! This was humiliating! But she was so wet!

Her Master stepped back, admiring her. He took another sip of his coffee. “Comfortable?”

She wasn’t sure whether to smile or to whimper. She could see the bulge in his trousers. Oh god! She wanted that bulge! She wanted her wet, wanton cunt filled! A thought went through her head, her anus instantly contracting. Yes, she thought, I want that filled too.

He was speaking on his phone. “I have a new slave here, hungry and dripping. Why don’t you come over? Call the other guys, she is very needy.” He grinned, “Not to mention greedy! Great! See you soon.”

He unbuckled his belt.

Heidi felt her juices run down her thigh. Finally! Finally, her dream would be realised! She was a slave!

 

[theseus]

Wadi Rum (Hosted on BDSMLR)

This was the 21st century, wasn’t it? 2020, to be exact? Slavery didn’t exist in 2020, did it? Okay, a few Pilipino maids in Saudi perhaps? Or Ukrainian strippers in dodgy clubs? But not upper-class English girls?

So why was she being led through the desert, naked, by a smelly Bedouin holding a chain connected to a ring through her clit?

Tessa and Angela had decided to take a gap year, working as stewardesses on a Russian millionaire’s yacht. It was great fun! The served drinks and food, smiled at the guests, and often ended up serving themselves as dessert. Not that they were whores! They never took money! That would be disgusting!

They did get nice gifts, though. Designer clothes, jewellery, and of course the cute Ferrari after that party with the four old guys.

This was different! The old Bedouin leading them to the tent, he of the gnarled, calloused hands and the long, thin cock he shoved up her ass at every opportunity, had told her they were to be sold to “Rich men from all over the world,” who would meet at this luxury camp in the desert to buy slaves to add to their collections. Collections? Since when do people have collections of slaves.

It was all unreal! This was 2020! This could not be happening!

If this wasn’t happening, why was she naked? Why was this smelly old man tugging at the chain attached to the ring in her clit? Why were there all those helicopters parked around a huge Bedouin tent?

If this wasn’t happening, why was her cunt so fucking wet?

 

[theseus]

Slave conditioning



Heidi had been a slave for only a few weeks. She was a happy slave, happy to serve her Master, happy to be used in new and exciting ways, happy to be naked and exposed.

She had settled into her true nature, that of a totally committed slave. Her actions were instinctive. No longer was she the modest young lady. Even now, at leisure, enjoying the privilege of having a phone, her instinct was to expose herself. Without conscious thought she spread her legs wide, displaying her ever hungry and eager holes to anyone who cared to look.

If they liked what they saw, they were welcome to use those holes, in any way they pleased.

Heidi was a happy slave!

 

[fallenmystic]

((Just a quick sketch which I may build upon later to use in my future stories))

I was crawling on the cold concrete floor, led by my collar chains like a dog. My leash was held by a trainer who soon turned into a corner where the medical room is located.

I trembled at the thought of the place, which I visited when they fried my ovaries with an X-ray machine. The ominous letter 'D' on my breast indicates my genes are too inferior to be allowed to procreate. I followed the trainer's heels into the room with my head hung low with trepidation.

To my surprise, there was a small crowd of people gathered around the same stirrup on which I got sterilized. I could only see their legs as a slave should never look into a free person's face without being ordered to do so. But their merry laughter suddenly ceased as I crawled into the room, as they could possibly be all inspecting my naked body with intense curiosity.

"Up here, dog!" The trainer pulled my leash and gestured toward the stirrup.
"Yes, Master," I replied obediently and climbed into the chair.

As soon as my hip touched the cold cushion, the trainer quickly grabbed each of my ankles and secured them with leather straps. I turned my face to the side to avoid the gaze, but I could discern that they were junior employees, probably of my age. Most of them were men, but there were at least two girls in the front row.

The trainer spread my legs wide and turned on the surgical light, adjusting it to illuminate my entire crotch area without a shade. Many pulled out their pens or smartphones to record the lecture.

"As I told you in our last class, we will learn how to grade a slave's genitalia today," the trainer raised his hand to brush my curly hairs as he started his session, "and how it interacts with the stimulus is as important criteria as its physical traits."

With his words, he put his left hand upon my mound and spread my sex wide with his index and middle fingers. Someone jeered from the back rows but soon silenced by his colleagues. I bit down my lip and tensed my body as I felt a cold breeze upon my exposed skin.

"See my hand here?" The trainer raised his right hand into the surgical light, as he still held me open with his other hand. "Now put your middle and ring fingers together, and stretch your thumb like this," he made a hook-like shape with his hand. Several students raised their hands to follow his demonstration.

"Mmmph!" I clenched my buttocks and let out a moan as I felt sudden tearing pain between my legs.
"The point of this exam is to test how fast the vagina can become moist, so you should start it from the dry state. As such, you may need to stretch it with sufficient force to make the entry easier," he forced his fingers to open me even wider as a demonstration. A girl at the front row flushed her cheeks and turned her face.

Suddenly, the fingers slid deeper as the trainer continued his lecture, "Push your hand until your thumb naturally rests upon the clitoris."
I jolted my hip as he pushed my hood to reveal my feminine core.
"Then move your thumb slowly in a circular motion like this, and you should feel its reaction upon your other fingers soon," he started massaging my most sensitive skin as he spoke. I threw my head back and tried my best to swallow the moans, feeling my muscles twitching around his fingers.

"And you should record how long it takes until you start to feel the involuntary contractions, and compare it to the chart from your manual." He continued his demonstration, but I couldn't hear his words any more.

 

[theseus]

Final Inspection ( Hosted on BDSMLR)

Michelle did a slow pirouette so that I could inspect her. My daughter was perfect, ready for the big adventure. She had waited for this for a long time, jealous of her mother’s annual ‘holidays’ at The Farm. Now it was her turn. At last!

“Turn around! Hands behind your back!”

She smiled at me over her shoulder as the handcuffs clicked shut. “This is it! Six months!” She almost giggled.

I kissed her. “Six months! Mom will be here in July, as usual, and I’ll visit a few times. Enjoy your adventure. No limits means just that.”

I watched her as she walked down the path, relishing the play of muscles in her back and thighs, the firm flexing of her buttocks.

“Lucky girl,” I thought. “Your life is ahead of you. Enjoy every moment.”

 

[Madiosi]

Final Inspection ( Hosted on BDSMLR)

The links to BDMSLR will not copied in my textfile in that I collect all Vignettes. So will disappearing the images or I should stopping to collect.

 

[George Cookson]

Final Inspection ( Hosted on BDSMLR)

Michelle did a slow pirouette so that I could inspect her. My daughter was perfect, ready for the big adventure. She had waited for this for a long time, jealous of her mother’s annual ‘holidays’ at The Farm. Now it was her turn. At last!

“Turn around! Hands behind your back!”

She smiled at me over her shoulder as the handcuffs clicked shut. “This is it! Six months!” She almost giggled.

I kissed her. “Six months! Mom will be here in July, as usual, and I’ll visit a few times. Enjoy your adventure. No limits means just that.”

I watched her as she walked down the path, relishing the play of muscles in her back and thighs, the firm flexing of her buttocks.

“Lucky girl,” I thought. “Your life is ahead of you. Enjoy every moment.”

Lucky girl her dreams come true

 

[The Fallen Angel]

The links to BDMSLR will not copied in my textfile in that I collect all Vignettes. So will disappearing the images or I should stopping to collect.

Hi Madi. I would imagine that theseus would like you to copy the text and download any images that go with the text to make the next booklet. The links to BDSMLR are not important. They do not need to be in a booklet.

 

[Madiosi]

Hi Madi. I would imagine that theseus would like you to copy the text and download any images that go with the text to make the next booklet. The links to BDSMLR are not important. They do not need to be in a booklet.

It made "Only" more circumstances for me, Mel. But many short stories, many more efforts for the next booklet. When he would be the only author, ok. But the forum are full of stories and my time and fun having borders.

 

[theseus]

Candy’s Dress




Candy had been kept nude for so long! She dreamed of having clothes, any clothes.

She was puzzled when her master gave her the small package. He was smiling. She was never sure what a smile meant. It could be approval, but it could just as easily be a precursor to some new ordeal. To pain! To humiliation! To degradation!

“You have been a very good, very satisfying slave. You deserve a gift.” It was small and light. Wrapped in beautiful paper, tied up with a bow. She was frightened to take it from him. What could it be? New, and much more painful nipple clamps? Something worse?

She dropped to her knees. “Thank you, Master.”

She looked at it as if it might explode!

“Go on! Open it!”

She trembled. Opened it. The fabric was like gossamer.

She kissed his feet. “Master! A dress! Oh, thank you, Master! A dress!”

She looked up at him. “May I, may I put it on?”

He nodded.

Candy was ecstatic. The dress covered her completely, down to her ankles. The silk felt exquisite against her skin. She admired herself in the mirror. The dress did indeed cover everything, yet it concealed nothing!

Her Master watched her, relishing the sight. Her beautiful back. Her perfect bum, from which he derived so much pleasure. Her shapely legs.

“Candy!”

She looked back at him over her shoulder, her face radiant.

“You look beautiful in that dress. So beautiful that I want you, now!”

She did a slow turn, teasing him. She slipped the tapes from her shoulders. The dress slid down, arrested momentarily as it caught on hard, erect nipples before sliding down, almost reluctantly, to pool at her feet.

Candy stepped forward into her Master’s arms. He loved her! He had given her a dress! Her Master loved her!

 

[theseus]

Impact!



Obedience!

The first and last rule that all convicts must adhere to!

It was only a parking offence, but under the new regime even a minor offence carried a sentence of three months servitude. Simply put, slavery.

Neither class, nor age, nor sex made any difference. ‘Justice’ was swift and merciless. Anne had objected to being stripped naked immediately after she was taken from her illegally parked car. The police are allowed to punish such offences on the spot. Fifty lashes of the whip!

Tied to a roadside post, much to the amusement of the gathering of passers-by, she grits her teeth as the officer takes his stance. She is determined to take her punishment with dignity.

Any semblance of dignity vanished when the leather lash slashed into her breast! There was no dignity now, just pain!

Oh, god! Forty-nine to go!

 

[Dauphin]

Really wonderful pictures and fantasies. Thx for that

 

[fallenmystic]

"Sir!" a skinny prisoner stopped the warden as he was about to walk to the next girl in line. Each morning, the prisoners have to strip except for their shorts and stand in line for a roll call.

"You have something to say, prisoner?" the warden turned around to face the anorexic prisoner and asked.
"Sir, I..." she stuttered and flushed her face before continuing, "I... I want to eat more, sir."
"Is that so?" the warden asked as he grabbed the sharp chin of the girl. "But you know, you have to earn what you eat here, don't you?"
"...Yes, sir," she replied in a barely audible voice while avoiding his gaze.
"Then what do you want us to do?" he lifted his hand to brush her gaunt face and asked.
"Please... use me... like other girls, sir!" She bit down her lower lip and dropped her face, her branch-like limbs shaking with shame and exhaustion.

All prisoners were given just a half bowl of cold gruel every morning. If they wanted to eat more, they had to serve at least three wardens sexually to get another bowl. It wasn't an easy task as there were so many more prisoners than the wardens, and the sexual drive of a man is not limitless.

She just couldn't degrade herself by dropping her underwear and flaunting her cunt to wardens who walk by her cell, as most other girls did. But few girls lasted more than a few months in this prison before begging to sell her dignity for a bowl of gruel.

"I'm sorry dear, but what made you think anyone would want to fuck you?" The warden poked her withered breasts and jeered, "You don't even have tits anymore. And I'm pretty sure your cunt must have all dried up like a desert by now." He suddenly grabbed her shorts and pulled it down to reveal her slit. It slid down to the ground without resistance, as her shrunken buttocks don't have enough flesh to hold the clothes.

"No... No! Please, I can't stand any longer!" The girl collapsed to the ground and pleaded, "Please let me serve you, sir. I... I can please you!" She grabbed his pants as he tried to walk away.

"Sorry, I don't want to fuck a skeleton. You should have asked way sooner." With his words, he shook his leg to shed off the bony fingers of the girl and turned away.
"Look, it's still moist!" the girl suddenly shouted and threw her legs widely apart. "Sir, I can prove it... please look at me... just look at my pussy," spreading her withered lips with her fingers, she began to massage her clit frantically as she wailed, "It's still moist! It's moist! You can have it anytime... it's all yours! Please let me serve you, sir! PLEASE!"

The girl hysterically cried until he walked to the next girl without looking back.

(P.S.: I just realized it's "Vignettes from the slave pits," not "from the prison cells" after I wrote this. Sorry if it was a bit offtopic! Maybe we can simply imagine they are some sort of slave girls, being punished for refusing to take the training needed to become a sex slave )

 

[theseus]

View attachment 849540

"Sir!" a skinny prisoner stopped the warden as he was about to walk to the next girl in line. Each morning, the prisoners have to strip except for their shorts and stand in line for a roll call.

"You have something to say, prisoner?" the warden turned around to face the anorexic prisoner and asked.
"Sir, I..." she stuttered and flushed her face before continuing, "I... I want to eat more, sir."
"Is that so?" the warden asked as he grabbed the sharp chin of the girl. "But you know, you have to earn what you eat here, don't you?"
"...Yes, sir," she replied in a barely audible voice while avoiding his gaze.
"Then what do you want us to do?" he lifted his hand to brush her gaunt face and asked.
"Please... use me... like other girls, sir!" She bit down her lower lip and dropped her face, her branch-like limbs shaking with shame and exhaustion.

All prisoners were given just a half bowl of cold gruel every morning. If they wanted to eat more, they had to serve at least three wardens sexually to get another bowl. It wasn't an easy task as there were so many more prisoners than the wardens, and the sexual drive of a man is not limitless.

She just couldn't degrade herself by dropping her underwear and flaunting her cunt to wardens who walk by her cell, as most other girls did. But few girls lasted more than a few months in this prison before begging to sell her dignity for a bowl of gruel.

"I'm sorry dear, but what made you think anyone would want to fuck you?" The warden poked her withered breasts and jeered, "You don't even have tits anymore. And I'm pretty sure your cunt must have all dried up like a desert by now." He suddenly grabbed her shorts and pulled it down to reveal her slit. It slid down to the ground without resistance, as her shrunken buttocks don't have enough flesh to hold the clothes.

"No... No! Please, I can't stand any longer!" The girl collapsed to the ground and pleaded, "Please let me serve you, sir. I... I can please you!" She grabbed his pants as he tried to walk away.

"Sorry, I don't want to fuck a skeleton. You should have asked way sooner." With his words, he shook his leg to shed off the bony fingers of the girl and turned away.
"Look, it's still moist!" the girl suddenly shouted and threw her legs widely apart. "Sir, I can prove it... please look at me... just look at my pussy," spreading her withered lips with her fingers, she began to massage her clit frantically as she wailed, "It's still moist! It's moist! You can have it anytime... it's all yours! Please let me serve you, sir! PLEASE!"

The girl hysterically cried until he walked to the next girl without looking back.

(P.S.: I just realized it's "Vignettes from the slave pits," not "from the prison cells" after I wrote this. Sorry if it was a bit offtopic! Maybe we can simply imagine they are some sort of slave girls, being punished for refusing to take the training needed to become a sex slave )

I'm not complaining! Love the story!

 

[theseus]

Claire Presented



“Present!”

It was the command she hated most of all.

She was a slave; she had volunteered to be a slave. She knew that a slave’s sole purpose was to please her Master or Mistress. She understood all that, but why, why, did he have to make her present herself like this?

The first thing visitors saw was her rear end. Her cunt, and her ass! It was as if that was all she was. Merely two tight holes for them to use.

She was a slave. An object. A useful object with three fuckholes, but still just an object. The visitors arriving were new friends of her master’s. She knew nothing about them. What she was certain of was that they would use her.

As she waited, there was a recurring thought. What did her Master mean when he told her, very emphatically. “Remember Claire, that you are my slave. Remember that your sole reason for existence is to serve all males.” He paused. “Remember that you only exist to serve all males.”

She heard car doors close, voices, a dog barking. She waited.

She was a well-trained, well presented slave.

 

[theseus]

Liberated Wife

​

“Slavery is the purest form of freedom!”

Susan had once held all the beliefs and prejudices of an upper-middle class wife. She had condemned all the things that society frowned upon. Infidelity, promiscuity, unlimited sex, and many, many others.

She had slid into slavery gradually, step by step. At first, she had been embarrassed, ashamed at her desires, at the fantasies that would previously have been unthinkable. The first time she had been naked in public had been an ordeal! She had been acutely embarrassed by her nudity, but also by her very evident arousal.

Her first public sexual act had been a similar experience. Slowly she had tried new things. Anal sex, oral sex in public, sex with another woman. Being whipped, naked, in public and, amazingly, deriving intense pleasure from the pain and the exposure. She was not quite sure when she had realised that she was free, free to be the passionate, sexual person she had always been, but had to suppress. She could be herself!

Her collar was the symbol of her freedom. She waited for their guests to arrive, clad only in her collar and the high heels that were her trademark, and gave her her slave name; “sexyinheels”.

This was her freedom! The freedom of slavery.

 

[theseus]

The First Day



It seemed such a minor offence.

“Possession of one gram of marijuana!” The judge had thundered. “You young people think the law is a joke! Ten years at hard labour! No appeal! No Parole!”

She had begged for leniency as the bailiffs seized her. Minutes later she was naked, shuddering as the cold steel of her shackles closed around neck, wrists and ankles. Shackles she would wear for the next ten years.

She had wept with shame and humiliation as she and a dozen other convicts had been marched through the streets to the town square, their chains jangling and threatening to trip her up.

She almost fainted as she saw the brazier with the branding irons protruding from the white-hot coals. She had screamed hysterically as the white-hot iron burned its mark deep into her buttock, the searing pain as bad as the shame of being branded. She had sobbed through the night as she lay, miserable and in pain, on the cold stone floor of her cell. She had choked and retched as the guard used her mouth in the dim light of dawn before she was taken to start her first day of hard labour.

She had never touched a shovel in her life. Now she dug frantically, the blood from the burst blisters on her hands as red as the nail varnish that still decorated her fingers. Her bare feet were bruised and cut by sharp stones. The taste of the guard’s cum still filled her mouth. She worked without pause, terrified of the guard and his heavy braided whip. She had seen the effect of that whip on some of the others. She had no desire to experience it.

She looked up at the blazing sun, feeling its heat burn her tender skin. It was along way before noon. She would work like this until it set. This was her first day! Ten years! Three thousand, six hundred and fifty-two days!

Behind her the guard smiled. He shook out his whip, measured the distance to her smooth, unmarked back. “Time she felt the lash.” His arm went back, the thin leather lash flicked out!

Her first day! Her first taste of the lash!

There would be many, many more!