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From: gyrich@aol.com (Gyrich)
Subject: STORY-SlaveNation:p1,ch1&2
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THIS STORY IS FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY.
IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 OR IF YOU ARE
OFFENDED BY MATERIAL OF A SEXUAL NATURE,
READ NO FURTHER.
On a lighter note, this is my first story. I would really like to know what
you think
of it, and also if you think I should have done things differently.
Send comments to Gyrich@aol.com. Thanks in advance.
Slave Nation - part one, chapter one - "Jason"
Mistress Brittanie waited patiently in one of complex 1A's many dungeon
rooms. She sat comfortably in an ornate, grand chair suitable for her position
as Mistress of Justice. Hans, her personal drone, entered the room with slave
Jason, who was securely leashed and nude, yet never crawled, as most other
slaves did.
"On your knees! Now!" barked Mistress Brittanie.
In a dull, sarcastic voice, Jason responded "Yes, mistress," and slowly
descended to his knees.
With a scowl on her face, Mistress Brittanie slowly stood up. She strode
over towards Jason and stopped right in front of him, resting in a contra posta
pose. For this night she wore a red and black corset sans bra with four clamps
on each leg to suspend her smooth black stockings. Her black stilettoes added
a little to her 5'3" height. and her dirty blond hair cascaded down her milky
breasts. One reason she loved "playing" with Jason was because of his large
frame. At 5'11" and a stocky, yet muscular, 220 lb. body the practice of
dominating duch a brute turned her on like nothing else.
"I want my soes to shine, slave. Lick."
"Of course, 'mistress'." As soon as Jason had uttered the last sound,
Brittanie's right shoe came crashing into his face.
"I am sick of your tone of voice! We are all at our wits' end with your
defiance! You will show us respect."
"As you wish," he replied in a dull, soulless voice, devoid of any
sarcasm. He knelt over Brittanie's left shoe and began to lick. He was quite
the enigma. As rude as he was, Jason really did seem to enjoy this. His
tongue smeared the stiletto. The saliva began to flow, forming a visible shine
on the shoe. Brittanie really wanted to beat the crap out of this shitstain,
but Julie, Mistress of Punishment, had left many serious bruises and
lacerations on him after the toad required a "lesson" two nights ago. Complex
1A housed the most important women in the Republic, and they shared the slaves
like close sisters would share clothing.
When Jason was done her left shoe shined like a new car, and he moved to
her right foot. "Damn, he's good at this," she thought to herself. He gently
gripped her ankle with his left hand, and her lower calf with his right, then
promptly began to lick her shoe with firm yet wet strokes from his tongue.
Once Jason had completed that task, Brittanie grabbed him by the hair and
led him to a table in the back of the room. She kept her hand low so that the
little worm had to crawl. She snapped at Hans and he sprinted to the table,
grabbing the slave and dumping him on the table. He proceeded to attach
Jason's hands to the table. His feet were attached to cuffs suspended from the
ceiling. While Hans was occupied with this, Brittanie was securing a dildo to
her torso and lubing it up.
"Be gentle," said Jason, with that sarcastic tint back in his voice.
After hearing this, Brittanie, without missing a beat, grabbed a towel and
wiped off the lubricant as best she could. She leapt onto the table and
postioned her surrogate penis right in front of Jason's anus.
"You don't know how much I'm going to enjoy this," she spat at the slave.
She slowly guided the head of the dildo past his entrance. That action
was gentle compared to the torture that followed. She fucked him like she was
born a man, in and out, in and out, no passion, just animalistic fucking.
Within 20 seconds Jason's screams were so loud that they filled the compound's
dungeons. Brittanie even began sounding like a man, spitting out phrases like
"yeah baby." and "you like this, dont you, bitch?" Judging by his screams,
Jason didn't.
As always, Hans stood by silently amongst the shrieks of agony. Hans
was a simple drone, one of the most unfortunate of men in this matriarchal
society. As defiant as he was, Jason never outright disobeyed an order or
attempted to strike back, as Hans once did. The perpetrator of such a crime is
sent to an advanced concentration camp, in which the convict is subjected to
months of intense brainwashing and hypnosis. Like Hans, they always turn out
like vegetables, one step away from being lobotomized. Drones make up the
police and army of the state, as well as assisants to the ladies. As a
mistress' personal assistant, Hans carried a 9mm pistol and a rubber truncheon
on him at all times.
After about six or seven minutes, Brittanie decided to conclude Jason's
rape. After removing the dildo, she matter-of-factly said "I think a thank you
is in order."
"I'm sure you do," was his response.
"We'll get rid of that stubborn-streak someday, slave. At any rate, it's
my turn now." With that, Brittanie leapt onto the table once more and sat
right on top of Jason's face. "Fuck me with that big mouth of yours. Do it!"
If Jason was good at licking shoes, he was the best at eating pussy,
a fact which kept him from being seriously injured on many occasions. As his
mouth sucked and slurped at her pussy, Jason's tongue snaked in and out of
Brittanie's vagina. After ten minutes of this, it was Brittanie's turn to
scream. Once the massive orgasm was over, the room smelled of her fragrant
juices. She waltzed over to her chair and lit up a ciggarette. Once she
finished she walked back over to the table and ordered Hans to remove the
bonds.
"Do you realize what sort of pleasure awaits you if you should submit,
accept us as your masters?"
"You'd leave the lubrication on?" he said, rolling his eyes.
In one fluid motion Brittanie snatched the truncheon off of Hans' belt and
whacked the flippant slave right on his collarbone as hard as she could. "Do
you ever learn?!?" Another blow landed square on his chest, knocking the wind
out of him. He rolled off of the table and his body lay limp on the floor,
stomach down. "I hate you!!" WHAK! The truncheon hit him right on the ass,
breaking skin and drawing blood. "I never want to see this dog's face again!"
she screamed. "Drag him back to his pen."
After cuffing the man's legs together and his hands behind his back, Hans
grabbed the ankle-cuffs' links and began to drag Jason back to his cage.
"One more thing," Brittanie ordered. "As usual, tell the pen guards that
this man is not to masturbate."
Hearing this through the haze of pain, Jason tried to remember the last
time he was allowed to jerk-off. It was a long, long time ago.
Slave Nation - part one, chapter two - "The Queen of Hearts"
Ralph was seized by a fear he had never known before. Carlos was a drone
of Prime Mistress Dieta, and he had grabbed Ralph and secured him to a table in
the dungeon with a ball gag in his mouth. He wasn't too bright, but Ralph knew
that he was in trouble. But the whiny 19 year old just couldn't understand
what he had done wrong. By this time he had been strapped to the table for
over 2 hours.
The dungeon level was quiet at this time of day, about 4 o'clock. The
only sounds to be heard were the crackiling of the gas-fed torches and the
clacking of Prime Mistress Dieta's black platform heels against the black
marble floor. Dieta had a very nice body, nothing fantastic, just nice. Her
red bustier and flesh-colored stockings accentuated her milky-white European
skin. But what made the greatest impression on people was the contrast between
her skin and the raven-black hair that framed her beautiful face. She did not
look like a centerfold, but she carried herself like a queen.
Dieta was Prime Mistress of the Republic, the head of state. It wasn't
her place to perform interrogations, but the day's event was like a personal
insult. At 7:08 in the morning, during the slaves' exercise period, the slave
named Jason had successfully performed Complex 1A's first escape. Mistress of
Justice Brittanie had discovered two things after the escape: Jason had been
orchestrating the rumored rebellion from within these very walls, and poor
Ralph was the last person with whom he spoke.
Ralph lay on the table, his heart beating a mile a minute. Without
warning, the dungeon door violently flew open. Dieta stood in the doorway just
long enough for the boy to realize just what sort of predicament he was in.
She made her way to the table with a quick stride and, with the grace of a
jungle cat, vaulted onto the hard wood so that her left leg rested on Ralph's
right side and her right knee was firmly planted right on his supple nuts. His
muffled screams were like music to Dieta's ears. She deliberately ground her
knee into his groin with a scowl on her face that made Ralph turn white as
sheet. She gave him a sharp smack on his left cheek, leaving it a bright red
that was noticeable on his now pale skin. Her knee lifted from his balls to
rest on his left side as she simultaneously gripped them with her left hand.
As she dug her delicate fingernails into Ralph's manhood, the smacking
continued; seven, eight, nine smacks to the face in quick, rapid succession.
Tears began to form in the boy's eyes.
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Jason had found the car ride invigorating. For the past nine hours he had
been a free man, a feeling foreign to him for five long years. Very few men
experienced freedom in this society, about 20%, and even then they were second
class citizens, peasants in a woman's world. When he was just twenty years
old, Jason had been accused of sexually assaulting a Major in the Army while he
was a Lieutenant. By this time, females had taken over all positions from
Commander-in-Chief to Major, and Jason was caught in the snowballing social
reform. The charges had no basis in reality, but there was no one to stop it
at this point. He was actually very well behaved at first, but the growing
idea of rebellion had made Jason cocky the past year, a mistake he regreted.
The possibility of a revolution was made possible thanks to Peter, whose
home Jason was currently hiding in, and Mac, a delivery man who brought
foodstuffs into Complex 1A and brought messages out. He never knew who was
receiving the coded messages he left on the now heavily policed internet; Jason
wasn't dumb enough to get Peter caught so easily.
He sat back in a rocking chair at Peter's house in the city's ghetto. The
darkening sky looked different as a free man and the beauty of Venus struck him
like a laser beam. And he realized that he had gotten caught up in the idea of
rebellion; he silently wondered to himself what was left to fight for.
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The boy returned to conciousness to find himself on his knees with his
hands chained to the ceiling. The last thing Ralph remembered was the
sensation of his bowels nearing explosion as an enima mercilessly filled him.
The ball gag had been removed, but he was simply too terrified to utter a
sound.
As the grogginness subsided, Ralph once again had a blank face as Dieta
played the tips of a cat-o-nine-tails across his chest. The wicked grin that
she gave poor Ralph insured that this was not over. WHAK, the barbs made
contact, and Ralph let slip a weak whelp. WHAK, the target this time was his
soft, innocent looking behind.
Ralph had entered Complez 1A as an innocent, naive 18 year old boy, and
had never been subjected to this; he was considered too frail. While the
slaves were trained to obey and please their mistresses before entering into
service, physical torture training was progressive for people like Ralph, who
were forced into slavery due to serious debt. Ralph was usually used by the
least cruel of women, mostly because he was such a whiny, pathetic worm. Of
course, he was very attractive, or he wouldn't be here in the first place.
WHAK, one of the barbs struck a testicle this time, and the boy screamed
out in agony as the mistress uttered a wicked laugh to accompany her smirk.
Dieta dropped her toy and slowly moved in front of the slave. She turned
around and bent over a little, exposing her rear end to the boy. "Show me how
much you love me Ralph." The dumb kid found this statement to be very sincere
and caring, but anyone of average intelligence could hear the sarcasm in her
voice. "Show me how much you worship me. Start with my bottom."
Ralph, very frightened and very nervous, sloppily kissed both of luscious,
round asscheeks. They were firm and yet very full, Like a perfect pair of
breasts. The fidgety boy licked up her crack like one would a popsicle, but he
obviously did not enjoy it. He then touched her anus with his tongue and
pushed it in, moving it around the inside of her exit.
"Enough," she said, straightening up and turning around. "You are really
horrible at this, you know that? I want one thing out of you right now,
Ralphie. What did Jason say to you?"
"W-what?" A light yet stern smack was administered.
"He told me something was going to happen over at the Capitol building! I
din't think nothing of it! Was it important? I thought he was talkin' bout
politics, like he always does."
What a fucking moron, Dieta thought to her self. A warm smile crept into
her face.
"You're a good boy, Ralphie. A very good boy."
"Why din't you just ask me, ma'am?" he squeaked out.
The smile disappeared. Time for a quick lesson, she thought. Dieta's arm
flashed down to Ralph's balls and her hand squeezed tightly.
"We ask for nothing, you little piece of shit! What we want... we take."
And with that she turned around and left the room.
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---------------------------------------------
Prime Mistress Dieta sat in her office looking out of the window towards
the "official" capitol building in the city, about ten miles away from this
complex. Anything important was taken care of here, and Jason knew that.
"Are you sure Ralph's interrogation was useless?" asked Kayla, Chief of
city security.
"Well, we know that the Capitol building is not the target. At any rate,
Jason won't be an easy rat to catch. I need someone who can think one step
ahead of him. Bring Mistress Delila to my office in the morning."
A small yet bright flash appeared from the capitol city.
"So it begins," she stated. Seconds later, Kayla's cellular phone rang.
"They struck at the city barracks, Mistress."
A long, tense silence ensued, until Dieta drily commanded "Leave." After
Kayla had closed the office door, Dieta reflected on this turn of events.
"The game is afoot," she said to herself, a dry snap of amusement present
in her voice.
--
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