“This will end when you shut.. the fuck.. up!” I yelled
at her, placing a blow on her thigh with each of the
last four words.
The volume of her cries died down, but I knew it was
only from pain and not a conscious decision by her. So
the belt continued lashing down, flaying her legs and
chest. I could see red marks rising up all over her, as
the leather strap struck her hard and true.
“Shut up!” I commanded her. “You Bitch!”
That time, at last, she heard me. She broke down into
tortured sobs, and started shaking back and forth where
she lay. The job was done. I took my belt in my hand,
and turned to leave.
“Try and get some sleep, bitch. You’ll need it.”
My statement sent a flash of fear through her blotchy
red eyes, but only for a moment before they closed and
she continued bawling onto the floor.
As I ascended the stairs, I heard her start screaming
again.
_________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________
Friday 17th May 1991
07:41 am
I haven’t slept a bit. And I’m only just sobering up. It
was a long night, to say the least.
I’ve done a lot of thinking between going down to see her
and now. It’s difficult to know what to do in this
situation. There’s nowhere to go for help, no one to ask
and no book to read. It’s all up to me.
Memories keep flashing through my head. Memories of long
erotic stories about sex slaves, that I used to read
from dirty magazines in my university years.
Could I keep Katie as a slave?
_________________
_________________
Friday 17th May 1991
09:19 am
I’m decided. I am going to keep Katie, and train her as
a sex slave. I’ve had to convince myself that I’ll be
able to use the same stories I read as ‘tutorials’ on
what to do. I’m just lucky I read them lots of times, I
guess.
It could be expensive, and finance is an issue. This
isn’t something you can generally request a loan for.
‘Hey, sorry, would you mind funding my slave project?’
No, I’ll have to think of something else. I could ask
for a better contract from my publishers. But I’m on
thin ice with them anyway.
I got lucky after university with my writing. One of
my great college friends, Harry, got a job at a
publishing company pretty much immediately. After
a healthy mix of sucking up to him and his boss, I
managed to secure a strong contract with them. But
recently they’ve been complaining about my work, and
saying that its too similar to older pieces.
So I think asking them for a steeper contract isn’t
the best thing to do.
Perhaps there is something..
_________________
_________________
Friday 17th May 1991
09:44 am
After a couple of quick calls, I think I’ve discovered
how to make a bit of money.
It terrifies me. But its certainly better than the shitty
fiction I’ve been writing all these years.
The slave trade.
It turns out, what Lee had been eluding to when he talked
about ‘working on’ something, was bargaining with a guy
he knew to buy a slave girl. The guy was a representer
of a respected trader, apparently, and he looked for
people interested in buying from him. So I’ve discovered
that the slave trade still exists.
It’s a tiny market, with high demands and not very many
suppliers. Hence, slaves are very highly priced. And by
selling them I could make a fuck tonne of money.
I could also go to jail for life. But hey, what’s the
point of living without a little risk?
First things first, though. Katie.
_________________
_________________
Friday 17th May 1991
04:05 pm
What a day. I’ve started work on Katie. And boy, is she
one loud mouthed bitch.
After a quick breakfast, I went back down to see her at
about ten o’clock. I took with me a backpack filled with
all sorts of useful tools. Things I would need to keep
her secure without always being bound. The last thing I
wanted was for my slave to be covered in rope burns.
Once again, when I opened the door, I found her laying up
against the wall sobbing. Did she ever sleep?
As I began laying objects down on the floor, I could see
her out of the corner of my eye. She was crawling ever so
slowly towards the open door. But all it took was a kick
behind me with my booted foot to slam the door shut with
a loud bass note. She flinched, and I noticed a single
tear slide down her cheek.
When I was ready, I untied her ankles and helped her to
her feet. She walked tenderly, her legs sore from their
tight bondage during the previous night. I lead her
through a couple of doorways, to the living quarters
I wrote about. I’m lucky, one of the intact rooms is the
bathroom. That makes things a lot less messy.
The room adjacent to the bathroom was once a living
room of sorts. But all that’s in there now is a lumpy
sofa and a disconnected television. Maybe if she’s good
I’ll connect it up sometime. I see it as important that
slaves have rewards to work towards. Otherwise the sheer
hopelessness of the situation could drive her insane.
Throwing her down on the sofa, I rebound her legs and
left her there while I went to get a few things. When I
re-entered the living room, she was exactly where I had
left her. Her eyes never left me. I remembered reading
about this phase in the stories. The ‘biding her time’
phase. She’s waiting for the opportune moment. But she
won’t get it. And when she realises that, we’ll be onto
stage three of her cycle down into slavery.
I bolted a long chain onto one of the uncovered girders
that ran across the roof. After swinging on it for a
moment to make sure it held even my weight, it was time
for her collar. This wasn’t a fetish of mine, I don’t
like kinky black leather and costumes. No, it was only
for convenience.
I fixed the collar around her neck, and padlocked it
shut with the chain in place. Now she was trapped, with
a lot of hassle between her and escape.
After I untied all of her bindings she curled up into
a ball onto the sofa, and started weeping in earnest.
Maybe that was stage three? Despair?
“Use the bathroom. Wash, cry, do whatever the heck you
want to do” I told her, with a hint of boredom in my
voice. Purposefully placed, of course. “I’ll be down
with some lunch for us later. And we’ll have a bit of
fun while we’re dining.”
She looked up at me and gulped. Evidently the idea of
‘lunch’ with me didn’t do wonders for her appetite.
Hehe, she’d be eating something either way. That much
I was sure of.
I turned and left her there, making my way out of the
room and up the basement stairs. I had work to do.
I spent the time between then performing a few jobs.
First, I took a bus to Salisbury and went back to the
carpark. I needed to dispose of her car. The less
evidence there was of her the better. So I got in
with her keys and steered out down the series of
ramps, onto the streets of Salisbury. It occurred to
me that if I was stopped, I was fucked. I wasn’t
‘insured’ on her car, and the game was up if that
fact came to light. But I was lucky. A quiet Friday
was just what I needed, and just what I got.
I drove out of the city and back towards my home. I
had decided that the safest thing to do was to keep
her car for the time being, until I could think of
a good way of disposing it. I think I’ll ask Lee if
he knows a crusher this evening.
Next I got in my own car and set off for the stores
in my nearest town. The essentials were some more
clothes for her, some cheap food. More drink, just
because I loved the idea of getting her wasted. I
also got a couple of small security cameras. It
will be difficult, but I think I can wire them up
so as to get twenty four hour sight of what she’s
up to.
When I had stocked up, I quickly returned home and
unloaded the car. It was lunch time. And lunch was
going to be awesome.
It was.
I prepared some simple sandwiches, and a jug of
lemonade, then carried them down to her with two
glasses. I left her to eat and drink, whilst I
headed back up and outside to do one last thing.
In the old stables, I found a black leather
harness. And exactly what I needed was right
there waiting for me.
A part of the harness consists of an o shaped ring
with three straps coming off it at odd angles. On
a harness it was mundane. But removed, which I
proceeded to do in due course, it was a ring gag.
I went back downstairs after spending a couple of
minutes preparing it. Katie had finished several
sandwiches, showing that she did indeed have an
appetite. She held a glass of lemonade in her left
hand, her face adorned with a vacant expression.
I sat down next to her on the sofa, and poured a
glass for myself.
She spoke abruptly.
“Please, um, Mr. Please let me go. I promise we’ll
pay anything. The police won’t be involved, I… I
just want.. um…”
She faltered at the look on my face. I was staring
bluntly, contemplating her words. So evidently
stage four was bargaining?
I chuckled. “There is no reasoning with your
master, Katie” I told her flatly. “In fact, it is
a punishable offense to beg, unless you are told
otherwise.”
She swallowed. Katie wasn’t stupid. She knew she’d
gone too far.
“So I have no choice, bitch. Get on your knees.”
I was free wheeling. Making up rules as I went
along. But I was careful with them. I would be
upholding these rules as long as I kept a slave in
this basement. So they had to be sensible.
Katie didn’t move.
“Listen to me carefully, whore. Every time you
disobey an order, something bad will happen. Now
I was thinking about getting this television here
connected up. But that can change quickly…”
She still just stared at me. Lee had warned me
this could happen, especially with a girl so
young and from such a privileged background. She
isn’t able to cope with what’s going on. So her
brain just shuts down, and she enters a state of
complete paralyzing panic.
“Katie? Are you disobeying me? On your knees.”
She was still as a statue. But now her breathing
was accelerating, and her eyes were growing wider
than before. Perhaps the situation was finally
dawning on her?
“You’re walking a thin line, bitch. Down on the
floor, now.”
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