Dark Erotic Fiction

Quick notes: First of all, the names in these stories are chosen at the whim of the author, and no character is intended to be like a real person, current, past or future. Second, don’t read this if you are disturbed by graphic violence, sex, murder, or any of the other fetishes listed below (anything not listed is not featured in this story) Third, Don’t try this at home. Fourth, thank you to the original creator of the WSA2000 stories.

Fdom/fsub

No explicit sex

Light/Medium torture

San Francisco, CA, USA
January 1, 2001

As I stand in line at the county registration office a little after midnight, I look around.   There’s a few dozen people here, all for the same reason I am.   It looks like I wasn’t the only one to have things planned ahead of time, either - several of the others have packets of information, and even the notarized thumbprints they need to get the permit.   But, of course, there are several idiots that don’t know how to read, so most of the people here are sent home.   The numbers are being called fairly quickly, and I’m only #9.   Looking around, it appears that they aren’t taking any chances with security; there’s at least a half dozen cops in the immediate area.   I hope this doesn’t take long; the woman behind me is aggravating me already, with her yelling into the cell phone about her boyfriend cheating on her.

“#9, please step up to window #4″ says the black cop at the desk.   I step forward and hand my papers and information to the county registrar.   She looks over my paperwork very thoroughly.

Finally, she purses her lips and says “Everything appears to be in order, Miss Jones.   It appears that you will be the very first in the city to be approved.” as she stamps my application APPROVED and slides it into a previously-empty filing box marked “Active County Slavers”.   I thank her and head for the nearest soda machine; I’m a little thirsty.

As I stand at the machine, the loud-mouthed bitch that had been behind me walks along, screaming into the phone.   Something about how she doesn’t need the guy, it’s not like they are married or have kids or anything.   Still yelling and screaming, she walks out the door as I shake my head and grab a root beer, then head out to the parking lot.   As soon as I walk through the exit, I can hear an argument going on outside.

Apparently, normal people aren’t allowed to park in spots marked “official vehicles only”.   At least, that’s what I am guessing, given what the loud-mouthed woman is screaming at the meter maid and the man that is getting ready to tow her car.   The woman is getting very abusive and angry, and finally takes a swing at the meter maid - a meter maid that, based on the move she performs, is trained in some form of martial art.   At least, the bitch gets knocked down very easily, falling flat on her ass.   The bitch, of course, isn’t going to take that; she kicks at the meter maid as she screams “How dare you!”.   The meter maid calmly dodges the blow, of course, and grabs the bitch.   Cuffs come out.   The meter maid starts telling the woman her Miranda rights, as required by law, so I tune her out and shake my head as I walk over to my nearby car.

“You are under arrest.   You have the right to remain silent..” I hear the meter maid tell the other woman.   I tune her out, until I hear something new; after saying the Miranda rights, she continues with “By the terms of the White Slave Act of 2000, I must inform you that the crime you committed is considered an enslavable offense.   You shall appear before a judge, and he shall consider your case.   Should he decide to enslave you, you will be considered a person of limited rights.”

Wow.   Stupid woman.   Assaulting an officer, the day the paper’s headline said “SLAVERY LEGAL” and listed the specific crimes - one of which was assaulting an officer of the peace.   Very, very stupid.   And yet, SO damned hot; she may be a blonde but the tits are to die for.   I must remember to go to the county auctions for the first few weeks.   Shaking my head, I get in my car and drive back to my apartment.

Entering the apartment, I smile as I see my poor “slave” Karen, tied to several iron weights - enough to make her immobile.   I smile down at the woman who accepted my invitation to be a live-in last year; I’ve kept her away from the outside world since then, so she’s completely clueless of the new law.   As I admire the marks I left on the girl’s chest the night before, I hear a noise in the kitchen and turn in that direction.

“I hope you don’t mind my getting into the fridge” my friend (and fellow professional dominant) Kim says.   “I was getting kind of hungry,” she says as she holds up a small bowl of hot fudge.   “I figured I’d have chocolate-covered breast while I was waiting” she says as she smiles at me.

“Actually, I do mind.   I need to talk to Karen for a little while, and I want a witness.” I say as I untie Karen.   “This is something quite serious.”   I lead Karen and Kim over to the kitchen table, and tell them to sit down.   Since this is the first time Karen’s gotten to use any furniture other than a bed in several years, she is understandably surprised.   “Karen, you have been my slave for the last year, and have given me excellent service in that time period.   I would like you to continue to serve me, without limit.”   I hold up a hand, forestalling her from saying anything yet.   “I just want you to know, I have a witness here and if things go to court for some reason I want someone to state exactly what has happened.   Now, I don’t want you to say anything.   If you want to remain my slave, all you have to do is sign here, here and here.” I say, carefully hiding the county logo on the papers I push in her direction by leaning on the top of the page.   “But remember, this is forever.   If you sign this, I will own your ass as long as I want it.”   Karen nods, then signs the papers quickly.   I notice that her handwriting doesn’t seem to have improved in the last few months of slavery.   “Kim, you are the witness.   Please sign and date.”   Kim does, of course.   She, of course, knows what I am doing.   I take a deep breath, press a few keys on my nearby computer, and smile.

“Karen, the papers I just signed are a legal voluntary enslavement form.   As of this moment, you are a person of limited rights, and I am your owner.   You will not be released unless I choose to release you.”   I turn to Kim.   “Kim, you may leave now.   I will need you to be at work at 8 AM Monday through Friday.   Until I can get enough people to help my run our little operation, we’re going to have to do some grunt work ourselves.”

“Why not just have Karen here do the grunt work?” Kim asks.   “Wasn’t she some sort of computer geek in school?”

“Yes, she was.   But you see, a slave - or at least a regular slave - can’t sign the important papers.   Only an asset slave can; and I’ll be damned if I make my little pet here an asset slave.   You can’t beat them unless they break a rule.   Speaking of which…   Karen, go get my cane, a ball gag and the wrist and ankle cuffs.”   I turn to Kim and ask her if she wants to stay and watch, or if she would rather leave.   She chooses to leave; something about a meeting she has to go to.   Oh well, I can beat Karen in privacy I suppose.

When Karen gets back, I start by gagging her, then attach the cuffs to her wrists in front of her and the other set to her ankles.   Dragging her over to the center of the room, I start by attaching the set in her ankles to a hook I had set in the floor; I then attach the other set to a hook attached to a chain that goes through two eye-bolts in the ceiling, the first directly above Karen and the second in the corner of the room.   I then smile at Karen as I attach the chain to a 200 pound weight in the corner; her eyes get very round when she sees that.   The last weight I had used was only 150; it easily lifted her off her feet, and she was complaining about her wrists and arms hurting for weeks.   “Poor baby”, I think to myself, as I drop the weight.   Karen, of course, is immediately lifted off the ground and pulled taut between the hook in the floor and the eye bolt in the ceiling.   I’m not certain, but I might have heard a nasty-sounding pop.

Eyeing the poor, innocent little slave, I have no trouble whatsoever deciding what to do with her - I use the cane.   First I start with the breasts, then the ass, then the legs & arms - all with quite hard swings.   By the time I’m done, she looks like a red zebra - marks up and down her body, most of which my practiced eye tells me will become bruises.   Finally, my arm gets tired, so I decide to go to bed.   After getting ready, I go out to the front room again and her “OK slave, here’s the deal.   Your name is now Slut.   Anytime I call for Slut, I want you to come to me.   Remember that.   OK?”   She nods her head yes, of course.   “Should I take you down, Slut?” I ask her; she, of course, starts nodding frantically.   I decide to be nice, and let her down by removing the chain from the weight - causing her to fall down, and the chain to fall on top of her as the heavier end drags it out of the eye bolt in the corner.   I smile down at her, and tell her to follow me as I walk into the bedroom.

She crawls toward me very quickly, and suddenly comes to a screeching halt as the cuffs around her ankle are still hooked to the ground, causing her to plant her face into the floor.   I turn around at the noise, and tell her “Really, Slut.   You should know better than that” as I walk over and remove the cuffs from the floor.   Finally, I drag her into the bedroom, where I set her to work pleasuring me for the rest of the night.   Before going to sleep, I put my toy away, of course - I hang her from the hook in the ceiling of the front room, this time without anything holding her down.   It was very amusing, watching her “dance” around as realize that she was going to be hanging there from her hands all night.

Quick notes: First of all, the names in these stories are chosen at the whim of the author, and no character is intended to be like a real person, current, past or future. Second, don’t read this if you are disturbed by graphic violence, sex, murder, or any of the other fetishes listed below (anything not listed is not featured in this story) Third, Don’t try this at home. Fourth, thank you to the original creator of the WSA2000 stories.

Female Dominant/male submissive

Female Dominant/female submissive

No explicit sex

CBT

Light torture

non-explicit Toilet play

San Francisco, CA, USA
May 14, 2000

As I watch the monitor, Mistress Kim has just forced her newest slave to strip. The slave kneels before her, head firmly in the locked hood, allowing only his lips and tongue freedom. I decide not to interrupt quite yet.

“Listen up, WORM! My shoes are dirty. Clean them while I rest here.” says the short blonde bombshell, who then screams “NOW!”. As the slave leans over, licking her shoes clean of imaginary dirt, she pulls out a set of rubber clamps and bands, then kicks her slave in the chest, causing him to gasp in pain as he falls onto his back.

“OK slave, here’s the deal. I’m in a crappy mood, so I’m going to inflict some serious pain on you now. Stand up and back away from the chair.” she says as she walks over to the St Andrew’s cross behind him. “OK, Good enough.” she says as she takes his hands and feet and attaches them to the cross before kneeing him hard in the groin.

Kim says “Worthless little man. You thought I wouldn’t know you’ve been sleeping with another woman, didn’t you? Well, guess what - not only do I know, but she’s sitting in the room outside, waiting to come in and watch you beg for mercy.” as she circles the cross, causing the slave to start shaking his head. “Don’t worry, before we do that I’ll make sure you’re correctly prepared.” she says as she takes out the clamps and bands. Smiling, she slides one of the 1″ bands around the base of one of his balls - then tightens it as far as it can be tightened, neatly pushing the ball away from the other one. She then repeats this process with the other ball, giving the slave’s crotch the appearance of a hammer - one with two round purple heads.

Taking another band, she slides it carefully down his penis, not allowing it to touch anywhere along the penis’s length. Finally, she tightens this as well, eliciting a scream from her victim. The poor man’s penis and balls look like they are in an incredible amount of pain.

Finally, she takes the clamps and attaches them to the skin below his nipples, tightening them an incredible amount. The slave screams, of course, but nobody who cares can hear him except for me and Kim, and we are enjoying his painful screams too much to stop right now.

Kim walks over to the door and opens it, allowing a young brunette in a business suit to enter the room. “Terrence? What the hell kind of place is this?!” the brunette cries, disgust on her face. “What kind of pervert are you, you son of a bitch?”

“Samantha? My god, what are you doing here? Kim, let me go right now” the slave says. Kim obeys, taking the hood off the middle-aged man’s head and then releasing him from the cross. “Wait, Samantha!” he cries as she starts to walk away. “It’s not what you think! I love you! This is just a release from the stresses of my day job. Please, there’s no reason to leave!”

“You stupid god damned pervert!” Samantha cries as Kim (and myself, by camera) looks on with amusement on her face. “Screw you, and screw the wedding! You’re not worth it!” she says as she takes off her ring and throws it at him. Kim is actually laughing now.

Terrence is struggling to put his cast-aside clothing on, rushing out the door and trying to convince Samantha not to leave him. Finally he gives up and walks back into the building, face red with rage.

“What the hell do you think you are doing, Kim? That little bitch was the key to a small fortune! Do you know how hard it was for me to convince her we were soul mates?” he says, pulling a fist back to hit her.

“First of all, I don’t care. Second of all, it’s not my fault; she followed you here. The only reason I knew who she was is because the first words out of her mouth were “Where’s that son of a bitch Terrence”; not exactly something a person with a business as discreet as mine likes to hear. So. Leave. Now. Maybe you can convince the little wench to take you back.”

Sometimes, running a professional Domination dungeon can be interesting. Speaking of interesting, I appear to have gotten something odd in my e-mail from one of my old college buddies.

To: Mistress Desire

From: Bowman

I thought you might like to know - Remember that report from earlier in the year, the ones that talked about how common slavery is in the US? Well, it looks like things are coming to a head, and the government is deciding to make it legal. Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. Anyway, the congressional votes are expected sometime in the next week, the President is expected to sign it shortly after. Just thought I’d give you a heads up.

PGP Signature:………..

Wow. I never thought they would actually do that. Hmm… Just in case, I should cover my bases. I get on the state business registry, and register several names that could be useful in the near future… assuming this works out. I then file for several trademarks on those names, so nobody can challenge me to them. The web addresses are, of course, already taken by others; stupid cybersquatters. And with that, I return home to my small, one-bedroom apartment. (Not that I couldn’t afford better, I just don’t care to spend the money right now.)

As I walk through the door, I hear a scratching at the coat closet door. Oops, looks like I left my pet locked up all day. I go to unlock it, and smile down at my pretty little redheaded pet. She looks dehydrated and tired, so I haul her back to the bathroom, and hold her head down onto the toilet with a stiletto-heeled boot to the neck. “Drink up!” I tell her. She does, of course, then we go to the bedroom, where I beat her, fuck her and basically make her life miserable and yet oh so much fun at the same time.

“OK Karen, you’re way behind on housework now. I suggest you get this house clean by the time I go to bed - that gives you 1 hour to do the dishes, mop and vacuum. Then you can get the laundry together.” I tell Karen; she rushes around and barely manages to get everything done in time… except the laundry. I cluck my tongue at her ineptitude, then hand her some clothing to wear - an above knee-length skirt and halter-top, no bra, no panties - and tell her to go put the laundry in the complex’s laundry room, and not to wake me until morning no matter what, I’m too tired. I tell her the keys are in the skirt’s pockets. She leaves, and I lock the door behind her.

Oops. Forgot to tell her - I took the front door key - and the car keys - off the keychain. Poor girl will have to stay outside in the rain.