Dark Erotic Fiction

Slave Bethany—Business as Usual

Tuesday, May 14, 2008

It was a few minutes past midnight when the buzzer rang. The nice thing about perpetual nudity is always being appropriately attired for company. I saw three women at the door. Two were naked and bound. The third was wearing a coat. I answered through the intercom.

“Mistress, I am slave Bethany, the sorority house mother. How may I serve you, Mistress?”

“I caught these two making porn on their web cam,” the speaker was older than the other two. “I have three conversions. Wait a minute.”

The woman took off her coat. She was naked underneath except for shoes. Master Peter has briefed the house mothers at our meeting about the terrorist attacks on Spellbook Slaves and Games. He said that they had used three naked slaves as a Trojan horse to gain entry. The key points were a clothed woman, baggage, and the naked slaves were unbound. I buzzed them into the first door of the foyer, effectively trapping them. In the aftermath of the Eastlake raids, everyone was on edge. Three nude and only one free—I felt safe. I still woke up six other women to assist me. Our next step was to pass through three slave control collars. The woman buckled the collars on herself and the two slaves. These were not locked down to the low levels normal for DEV slaves—Master Peter warned me that they could kill. There was an automatic setting that would cycle through increasing levels of shocks until either I overrode them or the victim lost consciousness. There were several ways to start the shocks—if they left the room without me telling them that they could leave, or if the video monitor in the office showed that I was having trouble, or if I gave the collars a voice command the collars would shock.

Something told me that I wouldn”t need the collars.

“I”m Megan Wilde,” the woman introduced herself.

“Honored to meet you, Mistress.”

“No, not “mistress,”" Megan said. “Here are the appropriate documents. I have downloaded the standard DEV indefinite contracts - the contract that requires we remain slaves for at least ten years but doesn”t require DEV to free us. I plan to be a slave for the rest of my life. The standard asset transfer contracts and our slave papers have all been properly notarized. Your organization will have to pick up our things—your things now. The car is in the parking lot. Where are the pee bottles?”

All three came up clean. No red flags on the data base. Mother Megan was drug free and not pregnant. Neither daughter was pregnant, though both registered a BAC of .03. As they were under 21, that was enough to get them converted for public drunkenness. If they had been driving -

“Are we slaves yet?”

“Just as soon as the tax is paid,” I replied. It took only a few seconds—the white slaver site seemed quiet tonight. “Megan Wilde, Jennifer Wilde, Danielle Wilde, as of 12:56 AM Central Daylight Savings Time on this Tuesday, May 14, 2008, you are persons of limited rights.”

“Thank God we”re safe now. I didn”t want John to find out because I was afraid that he would kill the girls. I was afraid that he would enslave the three of us and have us live roasted this Saturday. I picked the indefinite conversion contracts because I don”t want my daughters to be free women again unless they earn it.”

I yawned. I was tired.

“Let”s pick this up in the morning. I”m putting you three on a water fast until your medical screening at noon. You can sleep late. Do you want to e-mail your ex-husband and let him know where you and the girls are? I”ll even let you phone him, but it is late. Or early. We can even have a telegram delivered. DEV can sever your ties entirely, but unless there is some physical danger to you, we prefer that you work out your new relationships with your friends and family rather than never see them again.”

“An e-mail would be fine.”

A few minutes later I got to read her e-mail. Slave e-mails are sent out differently from free citizen e-mails—we have to gain permission first. I had permission, but I was supposed to read outgoing e-mails prior to sending them. Megan”s was short and simple.

“The girls and I are DEV slaves, Master John. We are safe and well off. Please reply to this e-mail address if you wish further contact. Slave Megan.”

“Your daughters were making porn?”

“They had their web cam on and were doing strip teases on camera. I tied them up and looked over what they had sent. They confessed everything. I was afraid of how my husband would react, so I downloaded and filled out the forms, took them to a notary, and came here. What are my orders?”

“I have to put you in quarantine until after the medical exam,” I yawned again. “I am required to keep that collar on you until someone above me unlocks it. I”m sorry, but I have to put you three in the dungeon tonight. If you give me no trouble, there is no need for you to be tied up. Use the bathroom attached to the dungeon and do not try to leave or your collars will shock you. It is warm down there and there are plenty of mats and pads to sleep on. Do you have any other questions for me?”

“No, that”s it.”

A few minutes later I was crawling into bed beside a softly snoring Dorothy. My other bed partner for the night was actually a security slave named Kelleigh—sometimes nick-named “Killer Kelleigh” for her hard muscles. I felt safe in her strong, gentle arms. Kelleigh came in a few minutes later and barely made the bed move.

“They are okay?”

“There was a comment about blankets and pillows. I told them to hug each other if it got cold.”

Except for the hour, that was a fairly routine DEV conversion. I”d seen more than a dozen like it—women needing an immediate protective enslavement. Their lives wouldn”t be easy now, those three new slaves, but they would be safe. They”d be as safe as a woman can be in modern day America.