Dark Erotic Fiction

Chapter 1: Looking at Pine Haven

Bob James stood at his office window, looking out at the winter scene. The golf course and the tennis courts were empty, and only a few people walked between the main building and the two outlying residential annexes. The only other person in sight was June Johnson, bent over and securely locked in one of the twenty outdoor pillories. At least Bill had let her have the high heel shoes to keep her feet off the concrete. She was, of course, other than shoes and collar, completely nude, as all women in Pine Haven were required to be. She was shivering in the mild cold. Bob thought that she’d been out there for half an hour, and that if Bill didn’t get her in the next ten minutes that he would have to remove her himself. Just then, he saw Bill coming to the pillory. Bill swatted her rump smartly, unlocked the pillory, handcuffed her, and led her toward the main building. OK, one less thing to watch out for. Slaves weren’t supposed to be snuffed here without prior arrangement, and non-slaves and slave wives weren’t to be snuffed at all, and June was a slave wife. Bob thought about asking Bill to put June in Bob’s private pillory for an afternoon, but decided that the new fuck slaves should be sampled first.

Bob had been reflecting on his tenure at this fine institution and how it had come about, and how it was now legal and respected. Not like at the beginning…

Chapter 2: Beginnings

At first, back in the 1940s, a wealthy industrialist had bought a bunch of scrub land, hills and narrow valleys covered with pine forests, and used it as a hunting reserve. As the years went by, he added a few cabins and started inviting friends and business associates to come, and it started to be a nice summer retreat. One summer he was there with his wife, a close friend and his wife, and the wives had started joking around about how the men were lords of the estate. The mogul said yes, he was lord here, and he ordered all females to remain nude at all times. Surprisingly, the women stripped immediately and stayed that way. He didn’t insist that they stay nude, but he was pleased. When it appeared that they enjoyed it, he realized that he had something.

He and his buddy set up a private trust to hold the land and buildings and had a bigger building constructed, one with a dining room, a bar, staff quarters, and rooms for visitors. They quietly checked around and found a number of wealthy men who liked the idea of a private resort where all women were required to be nude, and the men could dress or undress as they pleased. It wasn’t a nudist colony; those were family things, and the men behind it had decided that this wasn’t going to be a family place. They didn’t care if a man had sex with a woman on the lawn. They’d enjoy watching. The only problem was in staffing. The staff had to be discreet. Any leak, photograph, or spying reporter could be disastrous. They slowly found men that would be discreet and sign agreements to that effect, and women (for maids, cooks, and servers) that would be quiet because otherwise they’d be in big trouble. Some had been in legal trouble, others had things hanging over their heads. The club had an extensive set of nude compromising photographs taken of all the women and stored securely for use as leverage. Of course, the female staff worked nude.

The place was a big success. At first, it was low-key, with men and nude wives or mistresses inhabiting the place for a weekend or a week, relaxing. Many of the men practiced partner-swapping. Many enjoyed the small golf course, tennis courts, and swimming pool, and all enjoyed watching the mostly-female grounds crew maintaining the place. After some troubles with not being able to tell the staff apart and not being able to quickly and positively tell staff and guests apart, they had the staff women wear color-coded collars whenever they weren’t in their own quarters. Some of the men wanted their women to wear collars, so white collars were assigned to guests. This quickly progressed to all kinds of custom additions, which became the standard and then the required code of the place. Some men wanted the collars to stay on, so they had lockable collars made. Others suggested that each collar bear a tag with the woman’s availability (blue for ask her, yellow for ask the man, red for don’t bother asking). When a joker added a green tag to his mistresses’ collar, he said it meant “go ahead.” That was a big hit, if unpopular for the ladies. Eventually all guest collars were locked, and the tags were locked on. No tag meant green, and generally lead to walking bowlegged.

The management, which by that time was professional and included Bob as a lower-level functionary, decided that staff collars were to be locked on, to avoid the guests complaining that theirs were locked, but the maid’s wasn’t.

One day, a new guest went for a walk with his wife, with her being led by a leash attached to her collar. She was also handcuffed. This was a sensation. When they came back to the main building, he led her into the bar and got her a drink with a straw. The women were all agape, and the men were too, for different reasons. When one guy asked whether they should let cuffed women in the bar, another retorted that maybe they shouldn’t let uncuffed women in the bar. That off-the-cuff remark led to a long, silent pause, followed by applause and cheering from the men and apprehension from the women. The next day, after a supply run, there were hundreds of pairs of handcuffs at the club, and a new rule for the bar. Over the years, rules for chains at formal dinners, pillories in the lodge and on the grounds, and other male dominance themes came in. However, the slower-paced years were gone where men could come here for a week or two to relax, and some of the wives were resisting more and more. Mistresses were unreliable and could leak things, even with the security measures — they’d make lots of money posing for men’s magazines, so the photographs were unreliable as deterrents. Hiring women to serve as local surrogates helped, but even with using illegal immigrants and others that were unlikely to tell, it was becoming a losing battle, with fewer patrons and less fun. It looked like the end was near.

Chapter 3: Slaves!

The WSA changed things overnight. It was true that bondage was less scandalous in the years just before, and that women were less apprehensive about it, but the tide had not turned. If any of the patrons had known what was coming, though, they didn’t tell the management. It was interesting how several men made a push to get on the board late in 1999, though. Then the bombshell dropped. Bob, by now general manager, thought that with slavery that the place was done for. The new directors told him to wait it out. Some men wanted to have a place like this to play. Others wanted a place like this to play with slaves that weren’t theirs, to relieve them of the burden of support and control. Others wanted privacy, away from reporters. Many wanted to have a place where they could use their wives like slaves, which required staying out of the public eye.

Bob remembered calling the female staff together and announcing the changes. All the staff was to be slaves, mostly corporate asset. Any of the current staff that wanted to convert, with a nice gentle asset contract, was welcome to. Bob expected maybe a fifth to convert, but it was more like three quarters. The gaps they filled from slave brokers. Business picked up because now, with slave staff, they didn’t have to hide, and more wealthy men knew about their idyllic hideaway. Bob bought a bunch of sex slaves to offer guests. They weren’t assets, they all wore green collars, and they knew better than to resist any approach from any guest unless they were assigned to one guest — then they got a red tag.

Bob also remembered some nasty fights they had with women that wanted to use the place as lesbian dommes. They were welcome, but the rules were clear — all women were to be nude and collared, even dommes. Some accepted, putting four or five red tags on their collars. Most fulminated.

Bob had a new entrance added. There was an expanded lobby, with lots of tethering spots and pillories, and a women’s entrance that led straight to a locker room. Women came in, disrobed, hung up their clothing and their going-home clothes, and shut their locker — sealing it until they left. At the desk by the door into the lobby, they got their collar locked on, and the desk attendant checked the instruction sheet for their names. Many got cuffed and leashed before they were sent in. Some got gagged. A few got portable stocks, cangues, or even wheeled bondage gear that restrained them immovably. All were totally, gloriously, and in some cases hideously, nude.

Chapter 4: Laura Arrives

Laura Jones drove up the entrance drive after giving her name through the gate intercom and the gate opened. It looked pleasant, this Pine Haven that her husband, Mark, arranged for them to visit. He didn’t tell her much about it, other than it being adults-only and to follow the instructions of the staff on her arrival. He would come in later in the day after a business appointment. Laura figured that there was going to be some kind of surprise, and hoped it would be a pleasant one. After living for over six years as the wife of a dominant man, she had gotten used to following instructions, bondage, and being lent as a sex object. She thought after the law passed that she was going to be enslaved, but Mark hadn’t done it. She no longer feared it, as many women she knew were enslaved wives, but was glad that Mark found his mastery over her complete enough without a legal enslavement.

She drove up to a grand-looking lodge and saw a strange sign: “Cars with women inside”, with an arrow pointing at a valet parking stand. She drove up to the stand and got out as a valet came to get the keys. He helped her get her small overnight bag out of the back, with a strange smile that she thought was odd, and told her that the women’s entrance was through the door directly behind the valet stand. Laura started to wonder about this place, with directions for cars containing women and a women’s entrance, but she obeyed the instructions as she had been ordered.

She entered the building and saw a desk with an attractive older woman sitting behind it — totally nude. This place is interesting, she thought. The desk attendant welcomed her, called for an assistant, and another totally nude woman came to the desk.

“Please come with me. I’m your locker and orientation assistant. Let me take your bag.” Laura followed, thinking “This is a fancy place, with slave attendants. I think I’ll like it here.” The attendant led her to a room that Laura recognized as a locker room — a carpeted, comfortable locker room — but a locker room none the less. The slave led her to a locker that already had her name on it.

“Please disrobe and hang your clothes in the locker,” she said, opening the door. “I’ll get any clothing out of your bag and store it in the locker for you.” The slave opened the bag and started carefully removing all the clothing, leaving toiletries and other items. Laura stood there, taken aback, and slowly started removing her clothes. Mark had told her to follow the staff instructions. The attendant noticed her hesitation, smiled, and asked, “Have you ever visited us before?”

“No, this is a brand new place for me. I hadn’t even heard of it before my husband made a reservation here.”

“This place is different from all the other resorts you’ve ever heard of. I’ll explain after you’re done undressing. You can keep the shoes.”

Shortly after that, Laura stood there nude, in her heels, with the attendant slave admiring her trim and toned body. “Please come with me,” the attendant said, closing the door to the locker with a rather final click, and led Laura off, carrying the bag. They soon arrived at another desk with another attendant, also nude. “I’ll have the bag delivered to your rooms. This is where we explain the rules and prepare you for your stay here. As you probably have figured out, we are slaves. Almost all of the staff is women, and all the women are slaves. All women at Pine Haven must be nude at all times when past the locker room. All women also wear collars here. This white collar has your name. Your husband sent us the size when he made the reservation. Here, I’ll lock it on to you. It won’t come off until you leave.” Laura stood, with some apprehension, as the attendant locked the collar around her neck. “Perfect fit. Now, we’ll look at the instructions that your husband sent for your preparation.” The two attendants read from a sheet of paper with Laura’s name at the top. “Your husband instructs that you be cuffed and leashed, given a tour, and be accompanied by a slave until he arrives. My name is Beth, and I’ll be your attendant until your husband arrives. Please turn around.”

Laura turned around, knowing what was next, and with long-practiced grace, held her hands for cuffing. “Please turn back. Thank you.” The attendant snapped a leash on a ring at the front of the collar. “Thank you for cooperating. Some women that haven’t been told about our practices resist and have to be processed in a less pleasant manner. I checked the instructions, and you aren’t ordered to have any other restraints, like shackles or a gag. Let’s go into the lobby and show you around.” The attendant took the leash and led her through an open doorway into a large, open area with large windows and skylights. There was a large fireplace with a pleasant fire, lots of tables and chairs, and lots of naked women. Some were cuffed, some weren’t; some were gagged, some weren’t. Several were restrained by other devices, like single-sleeves, headstocks, and one woman whose hands appeared to be glued to the outside of her thighs. Beth noticed Laura’s gaze and said, “Mary’s hands have been attached to her legs with super glue. It was a new restraint system, without any bindings, but it was agreed to be a controlling bondage, so she can go into the bar.”

“Go into the bar?”

“Yes. Women guests are not required to be bound, although it is recommended and highly appreciated. To enter the bar, a woman must be bound. Most are handcuffed.”

“How long has she been glued?”

“I think that she’s been here a week, so a week.”

“That’s a long time to not have your hands.”

“Yes, it is. Because of her complete helplessness, she always has a slave with her.”

“Is she a slave?”

“No. She is a free woman, like you. The thing that many women find odd about this place is that the slaves are unchained more than the free women, at least the staff slaves. The sex staff is often restrained.”

Laura was beginning to see why her husband wanted to come here. As she looked around the room, she noticed a line of pillories against one wall, with several women locked in. Their backsides were to the room. One had a green sheet of paper taped to her pillory, and while Laura watched, a man passed by, saw her, dropped his pants, and started fucking her.

“Jill, there, is slave-wife to a man that likes her to be fucked. A lot. She’s in here for a while every day. The green paper means ‘fuck me.’ When he’s done, he’ll add a tally to the sheet so her husband can tell how many fuckings she got.”

Beth led Laura to a corridor off the lobby and into a room that Laura recognized as a bar. Beth snapped Laura’s leash into a hold-down on the front desk of the bar, took a pair of handcuffs from a metal bowl, and snapped them on her wrists. “I have to be cuffed or restrained here too. All women must, unless they are waitresses. The desk attendant here will uncuff me when we leave.”

The desk attendant smiled and said, “We’ll see about that. Maybe I’ll extract a price for that service.”

“Later.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Beth unhooked Laura and led her to a table, where they sat and waited for a waitress.