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o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o
o other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o
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Lesbian White Slaver (Fdom-F, bd)
by Boon (boonthailand@hotmail.com)
***
Quite a few employees hate the child who inherits the family business
especially when it is his spoiled daughter - and in my case, the
enmity directed toward me was not only from my father's former
workers, but also from the people we work with. Of course this was to
be expected as our family business is white slavery.
I'm twenty-two. My father started me in the business six months ago
when I got out of college. George Bush had already ruined the economy
and it was pretty tough to get a job in traditional lines of work so
after a few dozen rejections, I decided to hit up my father for a gig.
Since a child he was in the import/export business, but whenever I
had asked him what exactly he exported or imported he just smiled and
said it was classified information - and I would need a security
clearance to know. End of discussion.
So I sat down with Dad and told him the facts. There wasn't any
work to be had for a psych major...and if I didn't get some money soon
I was going to have to make it in unsavory ways.
"Unsavory?" he asked, "Like what...rob a bank? Deal drugs?"
"No, I'm a little more risk adverse than that," I replied. "But
let's face it I'm five foot eight, I've got a great figure, straight
blond hair, and men like to shell out bid dough for my type of look."
"So you planning on being a hooker or a stripper?"
"I'll have to unless you can use your influence to find a job for
your sweet little girl," I replied.
"You don't have a problem with such ethics?"
"Dad, I grew up with Kenneth Star, Ronald Reagan, Charles Keating,
the Bushs taking over the country by a coup d'etat... who the fuck
cares about ethics?"
"I'm proud of you," he smiled...and then he broke the news what he
did for a living. "I kidnap, train, and sell girls -turning them into
slave whores."
"You mean I've been living with a white slaver?"
"Yes. It's put food on your table all your life."
"How do you sleep at night?" I asked.
"Well actually I sleep quite well, usually because I'm fucking
exhausted from screwing the slaves all night," he grinned.
Well to make a long story short Dad brought me into the business.
It wasn't a very big organization. His secretary was Tawny, an
Amazonian looking girl who he had kidnapped and trained to satisfy
every need. If there was a letter that needed to be written, a meal
that needed to be cooked, a desk that needed cleaning, a cock that
needed to be sucked, Tawny did it all quickly and without question.
"Tawny used to be a lawyer named Catherine Johannson, but I convinced
her she didn't like either the job or the name," Dad told me matter of
factly one day while he was getting a blowjob from her. "She's
trained in all pleasure activities, including if you're ever
interested, cunt licking."
It's kind of weird letting your father know I was intrigued by
Tawny's skills, and it was even weirder letting him watch, but I
figured it would break the ice and let Dad know I sincerely shared his
enthusiasm for the job... so I lifted up my skirt and allowed Tawny to
service me. Dad was right, she was skilled...very skilled indeed. .
"She's pretty good eh? Kristen?" Dad asked as I screamed out in
orgasm.
"That's why I keep her around and never have sold her, that plus the
circus tits I had her installed with," he reached around Tawny and
squeezed one of her 40 EE breasts.
"Thank you mistress for allowing this slave to please you," Tawny
said so sweetly I nearly came again. Being called "mistress" was
intoxicating.
"So dad...show me the ropes."
Dad showed me the ropes - and other manacles too for that matter -
and taught me how to spot a likely target, research her, stalk her,
and then with the aid of two associates of dubious moral character,
kidnap her. The training was done using the Pavlovian method -
supplimented by a special drug cocktail which would reduce even the
strongest willed girl into a crawling sniveling and ultimately well
trained slave within a few months of exquisite torture.
I was a quick learner and within two weeks Dad allowed me to choose
my first girl for my own.
I put a great deal of thought into what I would like in a slave
before making my selection. Afterall you don't want to go through all
the bother of training someone and then discover there's no market for
her. So most men like tall big titted blondes...kind of like
myself...which is a little scary since it easily could be me
handcuffed, trussed up like a turkey, with a dildo in two orifices and
a cattle prod in my ass.
Her name was Sally Estep. I say was, because her new name is just
Bambi. Sally like so many other girls had come to Hollywood from a
small town in middle America to become a star. She was the prettiest
thing in Dubuque but here she was just another pretty face...and after
handing out head shots all over town ended up working as a
receptionist in a Beverly Hills hotel - hoping to be discovered by
some influential producer. Her hopes halfway came to fruition. She
was discovered - except unfortunately it was by me.
The snatch was easy. Every day she went home to her apartment just
off of Melrose and would then eat dinner, shower put on her makeup and
get dressed for a night of clubbing around Hollywood.
I rang her doorbell at 7:30. I told her I had just had my purse
snatched and needed to call the police. She considerately let me in.
That was a big mistake. I walked in as she bolted the door. "Wait
you said you had your purse stolen - but you're carrying a bag..."
Smart girl. But a little late, as I had already reached into my
purse and pulled out a gun... just like the ones Charlton Heston likes
everyone to have.
"If you want to live, turn around put your hands against the wall
and spread your legs," I ordered.
Sally started to scream and I was faced with my first crisis. Do I
shoot her and damage the merchandise or do I risk subduing her with
non lethal force. I chose a variation of the former and shot off a
silenced round right past her ear shattering a picture of her family.
It brought her around really quickly to obeying me.
"Please I'll do anything. Don't hurt me," she begged as she turned
around and faced the wall.
"Shut up whore," I ordered as I kicked her legs apart and frisked
her.
"I'm not a whore."
"Yes you are, or at least will be, and shut the fuck up," I pistol
whipped her since she had failed to follow orders."
She slumped to the ground and within moments I had her hogtied and
gagged. I considerately wiped off the blood from the back of her
pretty head, and held a cold compress to it while she came to before I
used an ether coated rag to put her back out. Then I called my
father's two associates who were waiting in the van to help remove her
to our training facility.
Our training facility is an old bomb shelter - built in the sixties
when the Ruskies were going to be coming over the hill any moment. It
has only one entrance through a secret passage in our basement boiler
room. It's reinforced concrete and soundproof to the world. It keeps
radiation out - and screams in.
When Sally finally came to she was naked strapped to a table, with a
dildo in her cunt, a red ball gag in her mouth, and a cattle prod in
her ass. I don't think she was faking being out, but no matter a
discharge of the cattle prod brought her thrashingly awake pronto.
"Mmmph", or something reasonably similar she screamed through her
gag. I took it to mean "What the fuck's going on and who are you?"
Now I had read "Dress For Success" in college, and realized one must
look the part if you are going to earn respect. And I meant to earn
my new slave's respect quickly. So I had purchased a dominatrix
uniform, the standard five inch stiletto knee high black patent
leather boots, with matching shoulder length opera gloves, a leather
bustier, a cat of nine tails strapped to a thick patent leather belt,
and a pair of crotchless panties with fishnet stockings. A bit too
conventional and predictable for my tastes, but power dressing was
important - and judging from the hard on my dad had - it was
effective.
"Pardon me for being a bit rude when we first met, but allow me to
introduce myself. I am Mistress Kristen. I am your owner. You are
my slave. I am going to take the gag out of your mouth and you are
going to repeat what I just told you."
I took the gag out.
"What the fuck..."
Bad answer.
A jolt from the cattle prod sent her bowels discharging all over my
clean table. Well that's what slaves tongues are for, I thought as I
waited for her to calm down - and try answering the question
correctly.
"What were you supposed to say?" I repeated.
"Don't..."
Wrong answer again. She wasn't as smart as I had thought.
This time she didn't have much to pee out, but she sure did thrash
about like a fish out of water. Too bad she was tied down so shed
didn't have too far to go.
"Do you have anything to say slave?" I repeated.
"You are my owner. I am a slave," she whimpered.
I gave her another jolt. "You left out my name."
"You are Kristen..." she got it half right before she screamed again
as a jolt rearranged her innards.
"I believe I'm you're Mistress Kristen," I said calmly. "Let's try
it again."
She got it right to both our reliefs. I really am not into
sadism...I'm just into money and power - and also I do like sex a bit
too if that counts.
"Good...Now that we have established our relationship, let me tell
you the rules. There are only two for now. One is you obey me at all
times. Two you call me by my proper name all the time. Is that
clear?"
"Yes Mistress Kristen," she assented in time to avoid another jolt
from the cattle prod.
"Have you ever licked a pussy?"
"No Mistress Kristen."
"Don't you think you should learn?"
"No Mistress Kristen...Oww!! Don't shock me Mistress Kristen!"
I gave her another blast. "That's for trying to give me an order.
The first one was for being disagreeable."
"You never said anything about being agreeable Mistress Kristen,"
the cunt managed to get out before I shocked her again.
"No one likes a smart ass," I waited for her to calm down. "Now let
me ask you again do you think you should learn to eat pussy."
"Yes Mistress Kristen."
She was halfway trained.
I straddled her face and put her tongue to work. "Don't even think
about biting slave... you might cause me some pain...but I don't think
you'll like it if I'm mad."
She wasn't very good. Even after ten minutes I hadn't come, but to
her credit she tried and kept her sniffeling to a minimum even when I
flogged her a few times to increase her enthusiasm.
Finally I realized she needed instruction, so I got up and reached
for the intercom. "Dad could you lent me Tawny for a little while? I
think she could be useful here."
"Sure sugar. Let her finish blowing me...and she'll be right down."
Five minutes later Tawny was between my legs, her head next to
Sally's.
"Sister slave, this is how you please our Mistress Kristen," she said
as she tongued that sweet spot on my clitoris. I came quickly and
hard. I needed a moment to catch my breath, so I had Sally show me if
she had learned anything on Tawny.
She had. Tawny screamed out her orgasm in less than two
minutes...although I may have helped out the teeniest bit by flogging
Tawny's breasts a couple of times.
I looked down at Sally. She looked a little different than in her
head shots. Her makeup was ruined, her mascara, tears, and Tawny and
my juices had streamed down her face. But she did look sexy.
According to my father - within two months of continuous training,
sleep deprivation and maybe a slightly altered diet... Sally would be
a perfect slave. He wanted to break her to the cock.
Dad said her cocksucking technique was good, "I think this girl was
born to give head," he said pulling his dick from her throat. But I
want to see how she is at fucking. "I think I'm going to fuck her to
death."
Unfortunately he was right. Dad came hard...too hard... and he had
a heart attack and died.
I was now in charge.