Dark Erotic Fiction

Fate Comes Knocking at Their Door

Buffy tightened her grip on the thin hotel blanket she had wrapped around herself. “What”s going to happen to us?” she whined to her friend Flora.

Flora shrugged. “I think that will soon be entirely up to Jonathon and Hank.” She turned to her friend and added sadly, “It”s hard to imagine that our greedy pussies brought us to this; we”re going to be owned by two boys barely older than our daughters.”

“I don”t wanna be a slave,” Buffy moaned peevishly and hunched down into the blanket.

“Just a few minutes ago, getting ridden hard by Jonathon”s cock was the only thing on your mind,” Flora reminded Buffy.

“That”s different,” Buffy sniffled. “We”re the ones who”re supposed to decide when we want to get laid. Besides, he”s a great stud.”

“Wonder how much you”re going to like it when he decides to take you up the ass with his big cock? I know how much you dislike anal.”

Buffy cringed. “Maybe you can distract him like you always do with the pros at the country club.” She looked pitiful as she begged, “Please, - you don”t mind it so bad that way.”

Flora sniffed disdainfully, “You”re thinking too much like a well-to-do suburban housewife who”s in charge of her life. If he”s a normal Master, he”ll probably strap you silly for trying to divert his attention from your ass. Buffy, - face it, - we”re really going to be slaves. This isn”t some sort of sex game like we”ve played before. This is real.”

Four loud knocks at the door interrupted the two best friends in their misery.

“Guess this is it,” Flora whispered.

When Flora opened the door, she was faced by a slim black-haired woman standing on the door stoop with a large leather satchel and a four-foot roll of cloth.

“You Flora or Buffy,” the young woman asked without preamble.

“I”m Flora,” she answered while taking in the woman”s heavy black slave collar and the well-used looking riding crop slipped under the belt of her shorts. Flora blinked at the brilliant red hue of the skin-tight hot pants. “Is that her twat?” she wondered at the deep crease between two puffy mounds at the “V” of her legs.

“Where”s the other one?” the woman demanded.

“Hhhere,” Buffy answered hesitatingly from her position on the bed.

“I”m Clara,” the woman said, “Even though I”m Pedro”s slave, you”ll faithfully follow all my directions, - got it!”

“Yes, Ma”am,” the two older women answered in a chorus.

“First, lose the robes and go get me pee samples,” she ordered. “Oh, and leave the bathroom door open.”

While the women were squatting red-faced over the toilet straining to pee a sample, Clara pulled a folded rubber sheet from her satchel and flipped it over the room”s single king-sized bed. She threw a couple of pillows atop the waterproof cover and turned to the roll of cloth which she hung behind the motel room door as a photographic backdrop. Finally, from her satchel she extracted two slim manila folders. Methodically, she arranged two nearly identical lines of typed forms on the tiny table in the squalid motel room.

Even before the two housewives were finished with their pee samples, Clara had let another woman into the room after she quietly knocked. Carmine Gonzalez, the wife of Pedro Gonzalez ignored Clara and carefully examined the forms she”d laid out on the table. A nod was the only sign that everything was correct.

Flora and Buffy hesitatingly returned to the tiny room, embarrassed to be naked in front of yet another fully dressed woman and openly carrying their still warm pee samples.

Wordlessly, Clara took the plastic cups and after sitting at the table, carefully tested each. “Mistress, everything is in order,” she whispered. “Neither is pregnant or under the influence of alcohol or drugs.”

For the first time since entering the room, Carmine grinned. Neither housewife was reassured by the woman”s sign of happiness. Their first look at the stocky woman had told them that the Hispanic woman held a lot of repressed rage inside her heavy form.

“Your wish is to be enslaved and owned by the two boys Jonathon and Hank?” she asked in slow but perfect English syntax overlaid with a heavy accent.

Flora and Buffy simply nodded, they were too ashamed to put the thought into words.

“You have the money?”

Again the women nodded.

“I”ll need every single penny you have. Your owners will receive everything not used in your conversion, taxes, transportation, and other fees.”

Having already searched their nearly empty purses, Buffy obediently handed over the two rubber-band-bound rolls of bills. “That”s every cent, Ma”am,” she whispered.

Carmine didn”t even examine the wads of cash; instead, she peeled off a few bills to toss on the table by Clara and then simply threw the remainder into her purse. Without another word to the women, she brought out a stamp pad and a Public Notary Stamp.

“When do we become slaves?” Buffy asked timidly.

“As soon as you sign,” Carmine replied gruffly. “Do it here, - here, - and here.”

As Buffy signed the forms, Clara took a series of digital photographs to record the session. In just a few seconds, the paperwork on Buffy”s slave conversion was completed. Flora stepped up and also signed away her freedom. Clara”s camera clicked as she continued to record the transaction. She made sure to have several face and full frontal nude shots of the women against the backdrop hanging from the room”s door.

Carmine reached into Carla”s satchel and extracted two heavy electronic slave collars visually identical to what Carla wore. “The sensor units in these are keyed to Carla”s collar,” she said in her characteristically hoarse voice as she slipped the first collar around Buffy”s neck. “Leave her side by more than fifty feet and you get increasingly painful shocks until finally, your heads are blown off. Give her problems and she will shock you. You see, - easy.”

The second collar clicked loudly as it locked around Flora”s neck.

“Any questions? No, - then kneel.”

With a tear in her eye, Buffy bowed her head and knelt beside her friend.

“Knee-walk up to the bed!”

Carla positioned a pillow at the edge of the bed by Buffy, grabbed her collar, and drew her body down over the pillow such that her naked breasts and face landed on the clammy rubber.

Carmine did the same to Flora. Each ex-housewife had their fannies aimed upward by the pillows under their bellies.

“Arms forward!” Carmine commanded. “Legs straight and feet apart!”

Flora watched helplessly as Carla looped a cord around her wrists and tossed the free end under the bed toward her feet. Carmine fumbled around her ankles and something soft clicked around her ankles. “A spreader bar?” she thought as Carmine latched her ankle cuffs to the bar. A strong tug on her arms told her that Carmine had found the free end of the rope under the bed and tightened it around the bar between her feet.

After trying in vain to move her feet or loosen the tight bonds, she looked to her friend lying beside her on the bed. Other than being able to watch Buffy”s wrists being skillfully bound by Carla, she couldn”t see what Carmine had done behind them to bind their feet.

Something hard patted once against her butt. A moment later, horrific pain exploded across her rump. “Eiiiiii!” she shrieked in shocked pain. Belatedly, she heard the swish that heralded a second blow. “Nooo! Eiiiii!”

Tears flowed and snot gushed from her nose as Flora screamed again and again into the slick rubber covering on the bed. It was long after Buffy had also received her own equally severe paddling before Flora slowly began to become fully aware of her surroundings.

“Wwwhat was that for, Ma”am?” Flora whimpered.

“Mistress is gone, - but I”ll explain,” Carla answered matter of factly as she finished organizing the physical and digital files documenting the women”s enslavement. “There were two reasons for your punishment. First, Mistress Gonzalez wanted to remind each of you that much worse punishment than twenty strokes of a wooden paddle awaits disobedient slave girls.”

Buffy softly moaned in anguish beside Flora. She looked to her friend and gasped as she hardly recognized the red puffy face covered in snot and tears topped with wet stringy wads of blonde hair. “I must look the same,” she thought in horror. “I bet our butts are bloody from the bitch”s paddling.”

Flora glanced back at Carla just as she spoke again. “Second, - Mistress wanted you to understand that you were paddled, - because, - she, - felt, - like, - it. You”re lucky Mistress is distracted because she and Master have a huge load of new slaves to babysit through Mexican customs. Otherwise, she”d have stayed longer to make sure you never forgot your first lesson as a slave.”

Buffy whimpered at the thought of additional punishment meted out by the fearfully strong woman. Flora was certain she didn”t want more pain.

“Are you girls going to give me cause for further punishments?”

“No, Ma”am,” rang out a jagged chorus of affirmation. Each buxom blonde silently vowed to obey any and all commands; neither wanted to feel that blistering agony again.

“Open wide,” Clara commanded.

A fat spongy ballgag was jammed into Flora”s mouth. The slight discomfort became much more acute as Clara jerked the strap around her head tighter, drawing the ball deep into her mouth and cruelly stretching the corners of her mouth.

Flora next felt an icy sensation across her right butt cheek. She was puzzled to hear a pulsating buzzing from behind her. Tiny pinpricks of pain began to dance around her butt. It took a few minutes before she recognized this new humiliation. “A tattoo?” she whimpered to herself. “The bitch is giving me a tattoo!”

Flora started to struggle and demand the woman stop. Instead, she slumped down in defeat. Sobbing quietly, Flora simply cried. The buzzing continued on and on.

Much later, the icy sensation of another alcohol wash, this time on her left ass cheek, indicated that Flora”s humiliation wasn”t nearly over. The stinging sensation began anew on her left cheek. Fresh tears and drool from the ballgag mingled with the older juices that had accumulated under her face on the rubber sheet. There was no doubt in her mind that she was at the lowest point of her life.

Her buttocks were now adorned with two very different three-inch-high tattoos. The stylized bull”s head on her right cheek signified that she”d been processed and enslaved by Pedro Gonzalez” Sonoran Desert Livestock. The more colorful sahuaro cactus on her left butt cheek indicated her present owner, PGH Ranch.

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