Dark Erotic Fiction

After the semi successful run of the show “Horrible Things for Hotties” I found myself doing make work at NMG. Seems that my ‘Bright Star’ background made them think I might not have the company as my primary focus. So, I got pulled off of the snuff and torture shows and spent a couple of months doing cooking show. And not the fun kind of cooking shows where some slut gets a spit up her cunt either, just the ones with normal stuff. I was bored off my skull. I think they were trying to make me resign. I damn near did. Any rate, after a fun filled day filming eggs being made into some sort of French breakfast thing, I log into my office email account. There is a short email from Hugh, my old boss. Seems he wants to see me this after noon.

When I arrive in his office, Cynthia, his slave/wife, is on her knees blowing him, while some young things strangles in a slow hang noose. He waves me toward a chair, which I sit down in. “So, what did she do there Hugh?” I asked, knowing full well that while he’s getting a snuff blow job he’s not going to talk business.

“Oh? Yeah, well, she was a coffee slave. I ordered coffee with creamer and two sugars. She gave me coffee with creamer only.”

“So you are snuffing her for not putting sugar in your coffee, of course, that’s an rational penalty.” Well, it is in this office. It’s not an reason I have used but I’ve done some things almost that bad. I did have one intern “summer slave volunteer” spit roasted for wearing 5 inch heels when she was told her dress code was 6 inch or higher heels.

“ah ah ahh…. Yeah… oh yeah….”

He must be cumming now. He’s not real coherent while he’s cumming. Less so than most men.

After a 30 seconds or so, he pulls Cynthia’s head off his cock and tells her to leave, but to notify housekeeping to come for a meat pick up in 15 minutes or so. Great, get to have a meeting with a dead slave hanging in the room. Could be worse.

“Well, Wendy, I’ve got you back on my team, assuming you don’t want to stay on ‘Eggs from around the world’ or what ever show they got you on now. Had to pull some strings, but I think you will like this project. You will be working with Mike West again, sort of. The idea is that you are going to follow some of those slaver trainees that he has around for a semester. There is going to be a change up, some of them are going to be trainee torturers, so we are going to go ahead and make this the current series of ‘Horrible Things for Hotties’. We are calling this one ‘HtH: The Back to School Special’. So, you want the job or not?”

Did I want it? A chance to film 18 and 19 year old students get enslaved and tortured? He is crazy or what? Of course I wanted it. “Yeah, I’ll take it, what’s the catch? Last time you wanted me to take something like this, you made me a slave. What is it this time?”

“You wound me… I am cut to my quick. Why, how can you say that?”

“Cut the crap, what’s the catch”

“For the first season, all you get is directory of photography credits. Sorry, this lawsuit thing is being making every one touch about the former ‘Bright Star’ staff”

“Stay at my current pay scale?”

“Yes, of course, just you don’t get directory credits. You will be doing all the work, of course, I get the credits.”

That figures. I wonder if that really was a higher up’s decision or just Hugh feathering his own nest. Could go either way.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.”

After a week or so of setting things up with Mike and “Dutch Hall”, I find my self at the Dutch Hall metal shop, looking at a half dozen girls, talking with a Mr. Matthew Marsh, who might as well be called the school slaver.

“These slaves are our last year’s senior class cheerleaders. Seems that on the last day of school, they decided to show off in their cars. Cutting donuts and things like that in the school parking lot. Called the police on them. They were all arrested on either driving offense or contributing to a traffic offense. We bought them at the public auction, at first thinking they would be a good gift to the football team at homecoming, but this came along, and, well, it will be better all around, don’t you think? It’s not like we aren’t converting about half of the senior girls this year any way, at least according to the plan. I’ve got three in my office right now that I found with either drugs or alcohol during a random locker check. I’m not going to bid on them, they really aren’t grade A. Well, one of them is, at least if you use the Hill’s grading system, but she’s not my type.”

While he was talking my crew was welding steel bands around the ex-cheerleader’s wrists and ankles. The bands had attachment points for chains or what not. The key grip signaled at me, indicating that they were ready. “OK boys, string ‘em up by their wrists. Then let’s bring in the rest of the talent…”

As I get to work this morning I find an email saying that I need to be in the #3 conference room at 8:30, to discuss the new production that I will be tasked with. This is never a good thing, given that I didn’t know of any new productions. I arrive in the room and find that the whole of the ‘Horrible for Hotties’ staff is there. Odd.

After the required 10 minute wait, the leadership team, and some folks from marketing arrive. After a few minutes of “blah blah blah”, we find out that the first few shows of Horrible for Hotties were shown to a focus group. The upshot was that they didn’t really like the format. A brain trust came up with a new idea we were to do, at least the first 8 weeks of.

What they wanted us to do was have an “elimination” style reality show, sort of like all those island and house shows, but with several twists over what has become the norm for that sort of show, at least on our networks.

1) All the contestants would be free women, not slaves. Granted, they would all have signed “Intent to be enslaved” contracts as part of the show.

2) Each week, all the contestants would each participate in a physical challenge, a mental challenge, a sexual challenge and, for lack of a better term, a torture challenge. Each of these challenges would have objective scores assigned to them, which would be normalized to a 1-10 scale.

3) There would be a “traditional” tribal voting event each week, but there would be 2 votes, one a “win” and one a “lose”.These would translate to a plus or minus 10 point score for the “winner” of each vote.

4) At the end of the week, the total scores for each women would be totaled up. The winner would receive “immunity” for that week. The 2nd place women would be enslaved, then sold to a model agency to be a fashion model. Given that the fashion model slaves are seldom, if ever, snuffed, this isn’t the real threat. The threat would be that one of the other women, other than the 1st or 2nd place winners, would be randomly chosen and tortured to death. In the case of a tie score, a special torture challenge would be run to be the tie breaker.

At the end of the 8 week run, the winner would receive some sort of largish cash award.

Our job, it seems, would be to find the 15 women it would take for the 8 week pilot run of the show, then to come up with the 7 challenges in each of the 4 categories.

As marketing department driven show ideas go, this one wasn’t too horrible. Time to get to work.

I arrive at work. There is a note on my door “Wendy, come to my office as soon as you arrive. Hugh”. This can’t be good.

I enter his office. The two surviving data slaves who worked on the beauty queen wanna-bee’s web entry forms were naked, with nooses around their necks, standing on small 3 legged stools. Nope, this isn’t good. I look over at Hugh and his personal slave, his wife, (or I guess in theory his ex-wife) is giving him head. OK, this might not be quite as bad as it could be.

“Wendy! Have a seat.” He gestures to the chair between the two data slaves. Back to not good.

He pushes his wife down on his cock. “You recall that web form you set up to snag the beauty queens?”

I nod. “Yeah, is there a problem?”

He pulls her up and pushes her back under his desk. “Sort of. Did you link it any where from a publicly visible web site?”

I don’t like where this is going. “Ah, no. Just in the emails sent out to the sluts. Why?”

He leans back. “Seems that one or more of the sluts put it on her blog. Or something. Any rate, a search engine spider found it, which of course lead to the rest of the engines finding it, on or about the 20th of November. We are getting about 500 hits a day, which isn’t that many, but about 30% of those are filling out the form. Well over half of those are what we would call ‘Well qualified’.”

I closed my eyes. That’s about 75 a day. He went on. “These two have been processing them. Travel wanted to know why had issued, as of this morning we had issued 1725 travel vouchers, and why, if we were going to issue that many, not activate them. Now, did you tell these two that they were to process the wanna-bee’s forms, then go back to their normal work?”

I nodded, knowing where this was going. He went on “As I recall, you reported that your project was over on the 14th or so, correct?”

I nodded again “Yes, you got the report. We got 217 entries, and had processed them all. We didn’t get any entries from the 12 on. I had these two help me with the travel packets.”

He looked up at them. “Well, slaves, it seems that you managed to blow off doing any work for a week or so, then made like your were working once the second wave of entries came in, knowing that it took management to activate the travel vouchers. In other words, you were shaming work. That’s a snuff offense. Wendy, kick their stools out please. Cynthia, you know what to do.”

I stood up and kick the stools out, thanking all the small god’s that I had been freed, because other wise I would be up there as well. I stood back and watched them hang, while Hugh got his rock off in Cynthia’s mouth. Once every thing was over, Hugh hit his intercom and told his receptionest to send meat pick up to his office, and to have house keeping remove the nooses over lunch.

After that he said to me “Wendy, your not really to blame here, but still, it was your web site. Might as well make lemonaide here. Link it on the main site, and tell the web dorks to remove the link and the form in say 14 days. Mean while, go down to the data pool and grab a handfull of slaves and start activating the current entries.”

I thought about rooms. We don’t have space for that many at once. “Where do I put them?” Hugh drummed his fingers on his desk, “Well, Mr. West is only really entitled to one of those 6 wings he’s using, take the other 5, and I guess over pack.” He did a set of figures on his desk calculator. Send 864 of them down the boys over on Cable Snuff Network, they are talking about doing a 3 day snuff-a-thon, with one live snuff every 3 minutes.”

Hugh gave me my marching orders, it seems. Rather general orders, but I was used to that from him, he was more an idea guy most of the time any way. He had me for details.

First thing I did was take my former co-stars down to storage. I decide that I would keep them in one of the wings that Mr. West was using, because they were under 24/7 camera watch. When I got down there, Lilly, Mike’s accounting slave and the person in charge of the downtown offices tells me “We had 2 more hang them selves. That brings the total to 9. Current smart money in the betting pool is a total of 11. Want a piece of that action?” I tell her that, No, I don’t, but make sure the files of them hanging get delivered to my in-box. What she was talking about was a little bit of theater I added to the nutjobs that volunteered or were committed by their families at the urging of their church leader. Each of the 300 plus girls were being kept in rooms with 8 beds. In the center of each room I had them install a noose and drop stand. Any slave could decided that she didn’t want to be a slave any more and climb up on the drop stand, adjust the noose around her pasty white neck, then step on the control with her feet. Once she did that, the drop stand slowly lowered it’s self down, insuring that the slave got a nice slow hang. Did I mention that in addition to the over all room camera’s there were 3 cameras on the noose? I took the two soon to be snuff puppets down to an empty room, one with out a noose. “Well, I’ll be bringing you your room mate in day or two, but hang out for a while.” I walked back up to Lilly’s station and asked her “I’ve been hearing rumors that you put out to my guards. Is that true?” She looked right at me and said, “Look, the only reason I didn’t fuck like a bunny before was because I didn’t want to risk be enslaved. I got tricked into being enslaved any way. Mr West has made me a corprate assest, which changes what can and can’t be done to me. As long as I follow the corporation by-laws, and don’t attempt an escape, he can’t have me snuffed with out paying a rather high fine. I’m not attempting to escape and I’m following his by-laws, which do not forbid be from fucking cute leather boys. You know the really cute ones are gay, right?” I laughed “Ain’t that the truth. And if they aren’t gay, they are taken…”. Lilly seems to have adjusted to her new role in life rather well. She brought up a file on her computer “I have about 50 more interviews to do, but we are not going to have a problem on getting you 50 virgins. In fact, if you want over 100 we could do that.” I told her I would get back her on that, but we might want 104, if she could get them.

I went back down to my office and started making calls. I know what Hugh wanted, he wanted us to invoke on all the contestants and have them be the talent pool on his “America’s Next Top Slave Model” show, and, I suspect, a couple of other shows.

I found some good news and some bad news. The good news is that the contestants nation wide had signed intent to volunteer forms. The bad news was that the they had a rider attached to them, specifying that their final enslavement would only be done in the context of the pageants and would be televised. Now that we couldn’t do that, their forms were useless to us.

I checked, the lawyer that wrote that clause is still on staff, and damn it, male. On further checking, I find that his wife is also on the payrole. Checking further I find that she’s an assest slave. Well, of course, she’s going to have to pay for being married to an idiot.

Need to find a corpate by-law she’s in violation of. While I was sitting there fuming, I realized that I still was wearing my collar. I got my key out and started to remove it, then it hit me, on how I could get the moron’s wife. I checked the manual, and sure enough, company slaves, regardless of status in the company had to wear a collar at all times while on the property. Last time I went down into the lair of lawyers I didn’t see any collars. Well Ms. Kathy Hage, Esq. let’s see what your wearing today. Before I went down there I gave Hugh the news. His bellow of “I want the head of the moron that did that!” echoed up and down the hallway. I gave him Mr. Hage’s name and told him that his wife, also a young lawyer, had, during the first wave of white collar “Tax Law enslavement” become a company slave, and that I had a plan.

I poked about in the company database a bit and found that she was one of the lawyer that worked on the contracts with out side talent. Great. I need to make some changes with our talent contracts due to the pageant disaster any way. Think I’ll hand deliver them down to her and see what we can do…

When I arrive down in the lair I find that they have a receptionist, wearing a rather larger slave collar. I look at her and she sort of flinches back “May I help you Mistress Morris?”
I stare at her for a moment more, then slowly say “Kathy Hage. I need to speak to her.”
She all but breaks her fingers hitting buttons on her phone system.
“Jammie? Is your boss here? Mistress Morris wants to see her. OK, I’ll send her back.”
She looks up and tells me that “Ms. Hage’s office is the 3rd back in the left wing. Do you need help in finding it Mistress?”
I look at her and utter a single “No”, then sweep off down the hall way.

I’m not exactly sure when the various slave staff of the company started living in fear of me, but I suspect that the trail of bodies I’ve been leaving behind may have something to do with that.

I arrive at the door and knock once, then enter. I find my self facing yet another receptionist, also wearing a collar. “Ms. Hage will see you now Mistress..” she says, standing and opening the inner door. I glare at her and enter the room.

Kathy Hage is a tall, thin blonde, of the sort they used to call “willowly” before that started to mean computer geek witch girl. She isn’t, I notice, wearing a slave collar. Oh, that’s going to cost you there, Kathy my dear. I hand her the stack of papers and start talking about the changes due to the FCC’s basic cable regulations, and how some of the talent isn’t going to be used and that we would like to not pay them their retainer fee and such like. Basically stalling for time, because as soon as I saw that she wasn’t wearing a collar, I sent a pre-made text message to Hugh, telling him to send a team down here. After a few minutes I hear them coming down the hall way. The enter the room, two of my “leather boys” and a steady cam crew. She looks up and starts to say something. I reach over and tap her lightly with my stun gun I keep on my belt. She sits down, rather hard. The leather boys slap a ball gag on her and cuff her hands behind her back.

I look at her and say “Ms. Hage, I’ve several things to tell you. First, your husband is an idiot, and is being escorted out of the building by security as we speak, but that’s not important to you right now. What is important is that you are in violation of the National Media Group’s dress code policy for enslaved staff members, and you are to be punished to full extent allowed for this violation, which is to say you are going to be snuffed after torture. Strip her boys and take her to my holding cell”.

You know, I think I know why the slave staff runs in fear from me.

I return to my office, to see if we have any chance of fixing this fiasco. While looking over the database of wanna-bees, I notice that they included the talent the contestant was to use in the contests. I do a query and pull up the list of girls that were planing on doing either poll dances or classic strip tease as their talent. I find a list of over 500 girls, nation wide. I compose an email that I feed into the mail merge option of the database:

To:[First Last]
From: Wendy Morris

Dear [First]
As you may know the FCC approved the “Beauty Queen Channel” as a Basic Cable Service, or BCS network. The current FCC regulations will not allow your talent to be shown during the broadcast of your pageant on a BCS network. As such, we at National Media Group are forced to remove your entry from the [LOCAL] pageant, a feeder pageant of [STATE] pageant.

Given the nature of your talent, [TALENT], you may be intrested in signing up for any of the upcoming National Media Group’s reality shows to be shown on several of our premium cable and satellite networks. If this is the case please goto [NMGRSLINK] and complete your sign up.

I hope to hear from you soon!

Wendy Morris
Talent Control Office, NMG.

The web site they were directed off to included an on line “voluntary change of rights status” form, and required two image files be uploaded, one a “head shot” and one a standing full frontal nude shot. It also stated that upon approval, air transportation to our studio in Eastlake would be provided.

I sent of the email, and with in 3 days had received well over 200 signups off of the web site. I got 3 data entry slaves and had them process the entries, approving all that included both requested photos. The packet included a shinny brochure about some of our shows, granted not the ones they would be staring in, a one way ticket to Eastlake from their closest airport (and the one way aspect of the ticket was not obvious), and a printed version of the voluntary enslavement form for this state, needing only their signature and a notary seal. I included a note that if needed, they could have the documents notarized on arrival.

Only one of the data slave generated an error. I had her slow hanged in the cell holding the the two former “Snuff Mistresses”, Kathy Hage and Erica Finch, the intern that fucked up the “Beauty Queen Channel” paperwork. I understand that Lilly blew the hangman as the data slave did her final air dance. The four slaves in the room were, of course, forced to watch the data slave’s execution. It’s amazing what you can do with duct tape and super glue.

Over the course of the next week, I spent a lot of time meeting wanna-bees at the airport, checking their paperwork ,administering the piss tests and doing final the enslavement of them. None of them failed their tests or had bad papers, which given the pool we were pulling out of wasn’t a total suprise, given that they had survived a similar set of test earlier this year. Most of them were some what surprised at being ball gagged and stripped at the airport, loaded into slave trolleys and transported to the slave holding areas of the studio, but, hey they signed the damn form, and this one didn’t have a rider on it about when and where they could be enslaved.

Ten days after Hugh gave me his sort of general instructions, I went into his office and told him that

1. We had 104 certified virgins for the “Virgin Sacrifices” show, and that we would be doing two a week for a year. I also told him that all the ad spots for that show had been filled at $25,000 per minute for the next two months, and there was already a lot of buzz about it.
2. I had a planned script for the 4 play toys. Basic idea was I was going to drown Kathy and Erica in the blood of the two former porn stars turned failed mistresses. Hugh seemed to think this would make a fine short subject and told me to go ahead with that when I had time.
3. We had a pool of 217 beauty queen wanna-bees for his shows.

All in all a pretty good 10 days work, I think.

I’m at my desk, I get a phone call, it’s Hugh. “Wendy, can you be in my office at 10:00, there has been some developments in some of your projects. I tell him no problem and finish doing the edit pass I’m on. It seems that Rev. Nutjob did have security video of his office after all. The short subject “A Secretary Finds Balance” should be finished soon, all I need is the tapes of her final sale. I understand that one of the south side hotels bought her for some sort of banquet.

10:00 rolls around and I go to Hugh’s office. The two other “Snuff Mistresses” from the “Snuff the Bitch Queen” show are already there. They are nude, ball gagged and restrained.

“Did I miss a memo about the dress code this week?” I ask.
Hugh tells me to “sit down and shut up. There has been some major changes. Major fucking changes. God damn it.”

This is odd. Normally he’s not quite like that. He hands me a jacket of paper work.
“The F C fucking C approved our new set of cable stations.”
I look over the paperwork ,and yes, it seems they did. “Yeah, why the, ah, changes.”
“Look where they approved the ‘Miss America’ channel.” he growled.

I flipped through the papers and found it. Basic Cable Service. Now I understood why the problems. A BCS channel, while not quite as restricted as broadcast, still couldn’t show nudity, much less sex, BDSM or enslavement. In fact, if I recalled the current regulations correctly, broadcast and BCS couldn’t even mention the existence of white slavery. Yeah, I see the problem. This means that two of the supporting shows for the channel were now not possible, and the changes in the pageants, with the topless phase and allowing poll dancing as a talent were out the window as well, never mind snuffing one of the contestants.

“I see. What is to happen then?” I ask.

Hugh looks at me, and hands me some papers. “Headquarters says that all the staff for all the shows are to be returned to their pervious status and pay grade, with no time gained or lost in seniority. I took that to mean that you were to be given your manumission papers, and these two were to be returned to the ‘to be terminated’ pool. Your going to have to pay the tax, by the way. The bean counters in accounting threw a hissy fit when I suggested that we pay it.”

“So, it’s over, just like that?” I asked

“Yeah, all because some intern in programming checked the wrong fucking box on the from. We know who it was, and she will be delivered to you later this week. It’s amazing what a boy friend will do for a million dollars. So, when you won, what were you going to do to these two? No, don’t tell me, just do it. But wait until you get the fucking intern. Do them all at once. We’re going to give you a 30 minute show next week. Have fucking fun. And quit looking at me like that and sign the god damn papers, unless you want to stay a slave.”

“Well, if you put it that way…” I said as I signed the papers, making me a free woman once again. I started thinking about a novel way to snuff my almost co-stars and some poor hapless intern. Got to think of something really clever for this.

I hand cuffed Bethany, then we get in my company car and start heading back down town. We drive in silence for a while, then she asks “Your going to kill me aren’t you?”
We stop at a red light. I turn and look her in the face, “Well, not to start with. Got to invoke your request first, making you officially enslaved, but yeah, that was the plan. How does that make you feel?” The light changed to green and we started up again. She sighed and said, “I don’t known. Reverend Wagner says that because I can’t find a man, I’m out of balance with the lord, and that I need to find balance. He started this morning explaining how it came to him about souls and spirits. It made sense then, but now, I don’t know.” I stopped at another light. “Look, I think your reverend is a total nutjob, and that his invisible friend he is talking to has some issues. I don’t think you are soulless or out of balance or any thing else.” We started moving again. “Then why are you going to kill me?”. I snorted and said “Because I want to. I don’t agree with your reverend’s idea on why you white bread south side sluts should be slaughtered like pigs, but I do got to admit, I like the idea. I like it a lot.” She looked at me and said “When I always thought you could tell devils by looking at them.” I looked at her and said “Did you ever think the Reverend Wagner was a devil? He’s the one that got you here.” She had no reply. I called ahead to the office and told them that I wanted a camera crew and a pair of leather boys at my parking space in 10 minutes.

We arrive at the NMG complex. I drive into the parking bay, then stop before I get to my spot. I grab the ball gag and push it into her mouth. “No one cares what you have to say any more, and I don’t think you will ever get to say anything other than a scream for the rest of your short life.”

We get to my parking spot, and the camera team is in place. The film me parking and the leather boys jump to open the pasanger side door, pulling Bethany out. I call out “Strip her boys, and don’t worry about saving the rags”. They produce jack knives and rapidly make short work of her clothing. Once she is nude, still cuffed and gagged, I direct them to take her to new meat processing.

At the incoming slave processing office, she is put up on a table, much like what you would see at a OB/GYN office, but with better restaints. A catheter is inserted in her cunt and a urine sample extracted. I take the sample and drop 4 drops onto the test card saying “Well Bethany, this is your last chance. If you happen to be pregnant, or on drugs right now, we will be forced to free you….” The test lines appear, she is neither. “Oh, sorry, your not”. I entered her data into the system, triggered the pay tax option, with the ‘meat’ flag, then waited for the papers to come out of the printer. I grabbed them, to file away. “Well, Bethany, as of right now, you aren’t even ‘A person of limited rights’, you are ‘An Alternate Meat Source’. He was right, your not going to be a harlot, your going to be some one dinner. Take her to the spitting room.”

She is released from the table, then lead out of the room. My cell phone goes off, it’s Hugh, wanted to know how it went with Rev. Nutjob. I tell him that in about a month, we are going to have a major special on CSN, but I’m not sure about the exact timing just yet. He gives me the details on several other projects he wants me to work on He can go on for hours at times, but, hey, he’s the boss. I finally get off line with him, just as the camera crew comes back in. “You weren’t in your office, so we figured you were still here.” He hands me a tap. “This is every thing from your arrival to her being on the spit. She’s in storage now, awaiting sale or use. I’ve told them to notify me when something happens, so I can tape that as well, I assumed that’s what you wanted.” I thanked him, and told him that yes, that was the case.

I go back to my office, and insert the tape in the deck. Watching, I realize that this is going to take some time and editing to make into a short subject, and is going to be a real pain unless I want to be in it, in which case I’m going to need to film some other scenes. I wonder if Rev. Nutjob has a security camera in his office and if he does if I can get the files? Need to make a call on that. After a 20 minutes of playback, we get to the part I haven’t seen. Bethany is being lead down the halls to our spitting room. They arrive, just as the double door open and a spit trolley is wheeled out, with 3 blondes on it. Bethany finally loses it, and starts to freak out at the site of 3 young women being treated like suckling pigs. After 10 seconds of her freaking out, one of the leather boys pulls a stun gun from his belt and knocks her out. She is dragged into the spitting room and strapped to an available Jessica 3000 machine. We call them that, in honor of the machines in Dolcett’s cartoons, but in fact they are really just a modified version of the high speed hog spitters that have been around for 50 years or more. I note that they unstrap, but not remove her ball gag after she is secured in place. The gutting system is triggered , opening up her belly and her intestinal track is removed. Smart money is that’s she dead now. The operator loads a spit into the machine and pushes the button. Because these aren’t really used primarily for entertainment, the spit isn’t slowly pushed through the girl, but is in fact fired via blast of compressed air through her in less than 3 seconds. The spit pushed her ball gag out of her mouth as erupts out of her mouth. Nice effect, need to include that in slow motion in the final edit. The two assistant operators pick her up and put her into the washing system, which removed the blood and other, well, stuff from her body cavity. Her throat is cut, as to let the blood drain out of her body. (She is upside down at the point) After a few minutes, the rinse the blood from her head and hair, and take her back into the cold storage room. The tape ends with her being put on a holding rack, joining 6 other meat girls, to await their final use.

I stop the tape, and hit the “rewind” button, then make the adjustments to have the tape made into digital form so I can start editing it. I also cue up the VHS recorder to make a consumer grade tape to give to Rev. Nutjob.

This morning I go into Hugh office. “Well, the nutjob thing went rather well, I think. InstaRatings show really good numbers. I told Mr. West that if he gets 50 virgins out of the deal we are going to buy them”

“Oh, we are?”

“Yeah, you know that show ‘Flog your neighbor’? It’s getting crap numbers, and I had an idea on a quick fix, damn near guaranteed high numbers replacement for ‘Virgin Sacrifices’ Basic idea is a virgin slave girl is brought in, fucked in all her holes, brutally tortured then sacrificed in a diffrent way each time. Given what our rating data shows, this should get good numbers.”

Hugh smiled and said “Sound good. Get a pilot on my desk by the end of the week.”

I went back to my desk and found the “You have voice mail” light glowing on the desk phone. I check it. It’s Rev. NutJob. Wants to talk to me, in person. Says that Mr. West has shown him the way the spirit flows and he wants to talk about it. OK, what the fuck? I think I’ll call Mike about this first.

I have a brief talk with Mike, where he explains that Rev. NutJob called and they talked about the fate of some of the slaves. Mike says that Nutjob got very excited when he was told about NMG buying virgins, and what Mike thought I would do with them. He, correctly, assumed I wanted to snuff them. If it wasn’t for the fact that my job required it, the fact that I’m turning into a psychopath would bother me. Nothing seems to get me hotter than watching a slut get snuffed, but I’m degressing here. I tell Mike thanks, and that I’ll go see what Rev. NutJob has in mind. I call the reverend’s secretary, Bethany and make an appointment to see him. I had visited their web site and followed the ’staff’ links. I asked her if she was the blonde in the photos. When she said she was, I told her she would look great spitted, and way don’t she have her boyfriend bring her down to the studio so we could use her in our Gynophagia cooking show. She sort of gasped and hung up on me. I’ll bet she didn’t know what gynophagia means either. Messing with the normals minds is so much fun.

I arrive for my appointment. Bethany, looks at me like I’m some sort of monster when I arrive. Well, she’s right. And she would look good on a spit. She pages the Nutjob and is told to let me in.

I enter his office, and he motions to a chair. We make small talk for minute or two, then he asks “What, exactly, did you say to Bethany that has gotten her so riled?” I told him that I had just told her that she would look good as a spit roast and asked that her boy friend bring her down to the studio so we could do that to her. He steeples his fingers together and says that he could understand why she was riled then. “But that does bring me to the point that I wanted to see you about”, he goes on.
I look at him and ask “And that would be?”.
“Mr. West was correct, the numbers we did at the night of balancing were not enough to truly bring us into balance. I think that in a month or two I should be able to have another balance night that would in fact balance the flock.”
I asked “Then why me, not Mr. West?”
“Because Mr. West wants to sell the slaves, you, I understand, which to end their mortal coil.”
Well, didn’t see that coming. “Well, yes. Why?”
“It came to me, speaking with Mr. West, that to truly return to the balance, we must truly remove the soulless from this earth, not just from our lives.”
Did I meantion this guy is a nut case? Coming from me, that saying a lot. “Soulless?”
“Yes, I’ve given it some thought and prayer. I now believe that the out of balance women are soulless, and that only those that have a balancing male have a soul, for it is written that a man should have a woman and a woman a man to be in balance with the Lord. And those that can not be, can not be in balance, and there for not with the Lord. It is also written that all that have a soul shall be with the Lord come the last days, if they accept him into their lives. Taken these two into account, it must follow that those that are out of the balance must be with out a soul. Given that they have a human, often pleasing human form, they still act as a temptation unto the men of the world.”

OK, this guy has stepped off the curb and is not looking at traffic.

“So, you think you have soulless women as part of your followers? Wouldn’t the lack of soul keep them from here?”

He looked at me “Just because they are soulless doesn’t mean they don’t have an inner spirit that seeks the ways of the Lord”.

“So you want me to?”

“I am going to preach on this, and when I feel the time is right, I want you to help me with a night of balancing, if the your spirit moves you to”.

“Well, I don’t see a problem with that. Keep in touch.”

“Wait, I think I can help you, and show you what I mean.” He reaches over and taps the intercom. “Bethany, can you come in here please?” She enters “Yes, Reverend?”
“My child, is it true that you are still with out a man?”
“Yes, reverend.”
“May I ask why you didn’t join in the balancing during the night of the balance?”
“Reverend, those women are to be made into whores and harlots. I don’t want that.”
He looked at her, “What if I told you that you would not be made into a harlot, what does your spirit tell you to do?”
“That I should seek a balance”
“As you should”. He pulled a form out of a desk drawer and filled it in, checking his desktop computer to get some data. He handed it to Bethany and said, “Please, follow your spirit…” She looked at it and realized that it was a voluntary enslavement request form. She looked at him, then at me, then set it down and signed it. He picked it up and pulled a notary seal out of his desk, signed and stamped the form. “Go with Ms. Morris to find your balance.” he said as he handed me the form. “Wendy, I would like to see her tape when you do it, please”.

OK, he isn’t just a Nutjob, he is a scary nutjob. But, still she’s going to look good on a spit.

Author’s note: I’m writing this based off of what Mike has posted already and a couple of emails he sent me. Hopefully I won’t screw up any plot lines for him

After hearing about the odd ball preacher that wanted to purify his flock of too many women from Mr. West, and finding out that he was in fact serious, I knew that this had to be a special showing of “Spellbook Slaves”

I went into my boss’s office. “Oh great master…”
“Cut it out Wendy, what do you want”

I smiled and told him “I need to hand receipt say, 2 dozen slaves, 15 computers work stations with SlaveMaster software loaded, an studio set up work order, 2 extra camera crews and say a 5 hour block of time for the big auditorium down stars.”

Hugh set down his coffee cup and rolled back in his chair. “When you come in for a request, you don’t fool around do you? May I ask why you need all this?”

I explained about the nut job and his plan to bring balance to his flock. Hugh sort of grunted and said, “Yeah, I think we can swing that. Why the 24 slaves?” I explained that I was planing on using them to do the grunt data entry and look up work and that I need 24 for back up, because any slave that messed up the enslaving paperwork would be snuffed on the spot. Hugh seemed impressed. I had another question, “Hugh, on this snuff mistress show, am I restricted to only the pageant bitch queens?”. He thought about it for a minute, “No, not really. Just don’t snuff the other mistresses too early”.

The next couple of days were a bit hectic in getting every thing set up for the show, but no more so than normal. When the day arrived, Mr. West and his office slaves arrived in plenty of time to have the whole thing explained to them. The nut job arrived about 30 minutes before the show was to start and seemed to be, well, still a nut job. Turns out that he’s having his two oldest daughters enslaved tonight, as well as the ones from his sheep. The sheep starting arriving on time, and soon filled the auditorium. Nutjob started whipping them into a frenzy about how they were doing the work of their invisible friend and that this was a great day for them and the nation. Yeah, it’s a great day, nothing like making two or three hundred up tight virgin white sheep into sex slaves. And it was white sheep. I don’t think I saw a single black or even dark brown face out in the crowd, it was all pure south side white folk. Just fine with me. Nutjob gets down winding them up and hands Mr. West the microphone. Mike explains how he wants it to go down, and adds a bit that I wish I had thought of, that the new slave that caused the paperwork foul up would get flogged as well as the data entry slave being snuffed. Nice bit. I told one of my stage hands to make sure we had a portable whipping post back stage with the guillotine on wheels. He assured me that we did.

Rev. Nutjob and his two daughters come up on the stage. The data slave takes their info and passes them urine sample cups. They enter, then leave the Johnny on the spots and give her the samples. She does the drop tests and pushes the button that lights the green light on her desk, which is the signal that every thing is OK, and that the next person should come to her. Nutjob and twins walk over to Mr. West’s station, where Mike looks at the documents, then stamps them, and lights his green light. A Torture Channel actor, a buff and cut young man, wearing black leather pants and a Zorro style black mask, (and nothing else, other than a light coat of baby oil) arrives at Mr. West station to take the newly enslaved slaves back to the holding elevator. Nutjob looks at them as they walk away, but turns and walks back out in to the crowd to incourage the sheep.

After that, a fairly good rhythm got going. We weren’t having any problems for 10 or 15 minutes, which while good from Mr. West’s point of view, makes for boring TV. Aside from the fact that the girls were nude, this mights as well be signing up for collage classes. Then, the red light comes on on Mike’s new slave’s desk. I walk over to see. It seems that data slave number 9 has transposed the middle two digits of the father’s SSN on the form. I send a pair of TCC talent to collect her, while Lilly fixes the paperwork. Once corrected, she prints off the new copy, files the erroneous copy, then signs and stamps the new copy. I motion to two of the TCC boys to collect this slave as well.

The two slaves are ballgaged and frog marched over to the center of the stage, while stage hands roll out the portable guillotine and whipping post. The strap the data slave into the guillotine and the sheep to the whipping post. I direct the torturer to give them each 50 lashes, and at the completion of the lashes, to release the mouton on the guillotine. He nodded and started his work. At the speed he was throwing his lashes it would take about 5 minutes to complete. In the mean while, I went and got a new data slave from the back up group, and had her chained to the chair of the empty station. Soon there after the “Clunk” sound of the guillotine blade being dropped echoed through the room. Oddly there was scattered clapping at that. Soon after that, Mike’s red light came on. Data slave 3 had made a spelling error in the address of the volunteer. The volunteer looked at me as I sent the boys after the data slave.
“Are you going to kill her for that?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Oh, please don’t, I should have seen it before she passed it on.”
I looked at the slave. “Look, one slave gets 50 lashes, then sent up stairs to be, well, who knows what happens next, and the other gets 50 lashes and her head cut off. I don’t care which one get which. What is it going to be?”
She swallowed a couple of times then faintly said “kill me instead”.
“OK, it’s your head.” I looked at Mr. West, who just nodded his head and turned off the red light. The TCC boys lead her over straight to the guillotine and lashed her in. A largeish group of the sheep, all young males, as it happens, moved to where they could get a better view of the post and guillotine. The torture started his lashing. After the 3rd or 4th lash, they started counting as their fellow sheep got her lashes. “Five….. Six…. Seven ” I went back to get a replacement slave. By the time the replacement was in the chair, they were up to 45. They kept counting down, then after they got to 50 and the blade fell, the gave up a cheer. The torturer sat down in his chair. I walked over to him and noticed that he had an erection.
“Want me to get a slave to do something about that?” I asked, pointing at his leather clad cock.
“Yeah, that would be nice.”
I asked him, “So, you still keep a garrote on your belt?”
“Of course. Why you ask?”
“Because I want you to cum in her mouth, then garrote her.”
“Do I have to wait until after I cum, or can I do it as I cum?”
“Either way.”
“OK, can you send me a redhead then? I haven’t done a redhead in a while.”
I went back over to the back up slaves and directed the single redhead to “Go over to the torture and give him head. Once he cums in your mouth, come back over here and wait”
“Yes Mistress Wendy”
She went over to the torturer and knelt down in front of him, then began giving him what I know to be a “porn star” blow job, which is to say it looks good, but is designed to make the male last as long as possible. The crowd of young men start chanting “suck..suck suck suck” as she deep throats him. After five or six minutes, I see him take the garrote from his belt and wrap it lightly around her neck. She doesn’t notice until he stiffens, then grabs the rings on the end of the wire reinforced silk cord and pulls. 40 second later, releases, pulls his cock from her mouth and shoves her body over. The men watching cheer.

As the night goes on, 3 more data slaves commit errors, but no more of the newly enslaved sheep volunteers to ride the guillotine instead of the data slave. The whole show was over around 11:00 PM. I talk to Mr. West, asking him to be sure to sort out the virgins from the not virgins if possible, and that NMG will buy up to 50, virgins prefired, if he can’t find other buyers. He informs me that the total enslavement was 325, 13 more than the target number of 312, and that there were roughly a dozen that would come of age in the next month or so. Only a total of 15 were rejected, 5 for pregnancy, 7 for drug use by the commiter and 3 for drug use by a volunteer. He also tells me that Rev. Nutjob thinks he can pass this idea on to other nutjobs in his network of churches, and we might see some more.

“Wendy, we are going to have a big meeting with all the principles on the “Miss America” project. Make it so.”

Well, great. I call Mr. West and “Mistress Ariel” and make sure they can make it. After a few minutes hesitation I call “Mistress Ohio” and find, oddly that she is here in Eastlake. She can make it. I follow up with “Mistress Minnesota”, and sure enough, she is local as well. Odd and double odd.

Next day, Hugh has us all in his “big office”. Mr. West I know, of course. Mistress Ariel is a tallish, slim lady, late 20’s, early thirties, maybe, with dyed black hair and very precisely applied makeup. “Mistress Ohio” and “Mistress Minnesota” are both, well, bubble headed bleach blondes, to use the famous term. After every one settles in, Hugh starts up.

“There have been some unexpected changes in the Miss America project. We ran into some contract problems with the feeder pageants for the 3 state pageants that we were going to use, so the slaver aspects of the Ohio and Minnesota pageants is being changed. All three states feeder pageants will be held here in Eastlake and our Oklahoma slavers will do the enslavement and resell of the runners up and other designated contestants. You will, of course, bid against each other for the slaves, however you will not be bidding money, but rather credits. Each of you will start with the same amount of credits. I’ll leave it up to the two of you and Wendy to decide the details. The over all contest is still based on your total amount of monies earned in the sale of contestants. Notice I said contestants. If you can convince a contestant to volunteer, or have a parent enslave their daughter, their sales will count towards your winnings. Each of you will be given a wing in our slave holding facility, with 12 rooms, each holding up to 8 slaves, a torture chamber and an execution room for you use during the contest.”

He went on, “You will note that I said “other designated contestants. Each judge, and by the way, you two will be the NMG judges for each of the pageants, will be allowed to vote on 3 contestants to be enslaved, regardless of their standings in the contest. Any contestant that receives a majority of votes to be enslaved will be enslaved, regardless of any other considerations, excluding winning the pageant. Pageant winners will never be enslaved. I encourage you, and the other judges, to be, well, corrupt, in your votes for enslavement. We want extra enslavement’s. We want things like contestants offering sexual favors to avoid enslavement votes and the like. The feeder pageants will run twice a week, for roughly 40 weeks. At the end of the feeder pageants, there will be, of course the state wide pageants. They will be just like the feeder pageants, to include the extra enslavement’s and all that. There is also the ’special’ pageant, one for each state. In that contest, we are going to enslave all of the contestants, other than the winner. There will be a total of 4 pageants that will not be here, 2 in Oklahoma, which will be during state fairs, and two in Ohio, dealing with some local festivals. The Eastlake fair pageant, at least, will be done some what differently than the standard pageants. We are thinking of doing it like it was animal judging contest, not a Miss America style pageant. We are still working with the local board on that, but I’ve got a good feeling about it.”

“Each pageant will also have the ‘Bitch Queen’, voted on by the contestants before the final judging takes place, based on the actions of the contestants in the week’s activities before the judging. This unlucky contestant will be enslaved before the final judging takes place and will be delivered to the snuff mistress for her state. The snuff mistress will have about 24 hours to plan and, parden the pun, execute the Bitch Queen’s execution. The execution will be shown on CSN, and an on-line poll will be taken, rating the sexiness of the victim and the killing, the pain and suffering level she received before and an over all rating, for style and panache. These polls will be averaged and a number of points, ranging from 0 to a perfect 10 will be assigned. The snuff mistress with the highest point total at the end of the series will be freed, and get a cash prize. The losing mistresses will be snuffed as the season finale. Does any body have any questions? No, OK, my assistant will give you your final contracts and schedules, and let’s see y’all next week OK?”

As every one got up to leave and get their paper work, Hugh said “Wendy can you stay for a minute please?”

After every one left he asked me “When you were working for Bright Star you did some on screen work, right?”

“Yeah, I blew a couple of guys as background during torture scenes”

He nodded and made a notion in his lap top computer. “And you have had at least one on screen sex act sense you have been working for us, correct?”

I started to say “No”, but then remembered I did deep throat the man with the kill switch on the Jessica 3000 machines at the country club, when he was doing is some ex-Bright Star sluts. “Yeah, once.”

He nodded again and went “Good, good. What was your credited ‘Slut Number’ at Bright Star?”

“105, why?”

He made a final note on the laptop and closed it. “I’ll tell you, but I never said this. Did you notice any thing about your sister snuff mistresses?”

“Other than the fact that they seem like they are porn stars?, no, why should I have?”

He grinned. “Nope, that’s the deal. You, technically are a porn star as well. We are marketing it that way “Killer Porn Stars” and all that. Did you notice that the contest averages the on-line scores, then assigns you a point score? And that it’s the total, not the average at the end that matters?”

I thought about it, and yeah, that’s what he said. “Yes, why does that matter?”

He laughed. “Look, you are too good of a director to lose. Which is not to say that if you do lose, you won’t get snuffed. But let’s just say that the deck is stacked in your favor. You have 40 pageants. “Mistress” Ohio had 21, and the slut for Minnesota only has 15. Assuming they get perfect scores on each of their kills, which they won’t, you only have to score a little over 5 out of 10 to beat them.”

I was shocked. “How in the hell did you get some one to sign up for that sort of deal?”

He laughed. “We didn’t. They were already slaves. The know you are a slave, who has some Bright Star screen credits. They also don’t know, yet, about the numbers differences. They also don’t know you are the woman that directed “Club X” and the rest of the Dolcett films”. He looked down at his watch, then said “Well, now they might know about the number of contests, assuming they read the contracts before they sign them. Smart money is on them not doing so. Changing the subject, have you given Mr. West head yet? Our profile of him indicates that that’s his favorite sex act. With the numbers ‘Spellbook Slaves’ is pulling down, you chief problem is keeping him happy. Humph. Before I tell you to do that, I better make sure you give good head. I got 10 minutes before my next meeting, let’s see what you can do….” With that he rolled back from the head of the table where he as sitting and unzipped his pants. I stood up and walked over to him, knelt down in front of him and took his dick into my mouth. I swilled the my tongue around the head for a minute or so, then slowly lowered my head down until his whole dick was in my mouth. Then back up, doing lots of suction as I went back up. Once I got back up, I took it out of my mouth and gently blew across the gland. After 15 seconds or so, I took it back into my mouth, then took him into my throat slowly. Once there, instead of pulling back up, I swallowed several time, then took it about half way up. It didn’t matter what I was about to do, because he grabbed my head and pushed it back down. As it happens I don’t have a gag reflex, at all, and had learned how to breath through my nose, even with a cock in my mouth long ago. He held me down, so I started massaging his dick with my throat, by constant swallowing. After 30 seconds or so, he started to cum. I just kept swallowing, what else could I do. After 3 or 4 squirts, he let go of my head. I pulled up and said “So, do I give good enough head to blow our pet white slaver?”

He looked down at me, “Yeah, I guess you do. Go sign your papers slave. Good luck, not that you really need it.”

The male “stars” returned after lunch, and I gave them the “revised” script. More than any thing it was just simple grammar corrections and things like that, the biggest thing I had changed was I had added direction about how the actual pissing on the red head was supposed to happen. Each of the stars was to step in front of her, aim his piss stream at one of her eyes, them move it over to the other, then down her nose until it was going into her dental gagged mouth. Once the stream got there, he was to keep pissing into her mouth until he was done. Then the second “star” would repeat the process.

After both had used her like a urinal, the camera man told me that we still had about 10 minutes of film left. I directed the guys to pull the ball gags out of the two back ground sluts that were hogtied on the table and to face fuck them until they came or we ran out of film, whichever.

I spent the next day or so editing this masterpiece, then, on the next Monday, I presented it to the men in charge of Bright Star Studio. During the presentation one of them asked me if it was true that I kept the three female “stars” tied up for an extra hour. I told them that I had, and asked if this was a problem. He said it wasn’t, but wanted to know why. I told him, simply, “Because I could. Sluts like that need to be reminded who is in charge.”

Apparently either my attitude or film making skill impressed them, because the next day they offered me the job.

I spent the next 2 and half years working as either the director of the smaller, less than 30 minute “loops” or as the assistant director of the longer shows. I rapidly earned a reputation with the female “talent” as being a grade A bitch, and not who you wanted to be the director of your scene, if you could help it. They may have had a point. because I tried to work a torture or at least a bondage scene into all my films. I also found that being a female assistant director meant, that on occasion, I was required to act as a fluffer for the male talent. I found that deep throating a porn star while some slut was being tortured was a major turn on. I was even “on screen” doing this in a couple of films, always as part of a torture shot! My only requirement was that I not have them doing a “money shot” on my face. In my mouth was just fine. I swallow, by the way.

Then, the universe changed. The White Slave Act of 2000 was passed. At the business meeting that week, we decided that, due to the nature of our films, that we would buy slaves to act as talent, as quickly as possible. The owner got a slaver’s license. I had the idea to talk to the “boyfriends” of the female talent we had on contract. What I told them was, that, if they decided to break up with their girlfriend, or she decided to break up with them, that if they would have her enslaved, we would pay 25% over any other offers they were given for her. Knowing that the life span of a relationship with sex stars was about 6 weeks, I figured we would have most of our contracted talent as slaves with in 3 or 4 months. In fact, we had 50% of them with in the month. This lead to us terminating the contracts with the remainder of the girls. Oddly, after their contracts were terminated another 5 volunteered to be enslaved.

After we started using slaves as the talent, we increased the “Extreme” level by quite a bit. I wondered how far we would go. Flogging, branding and rather brutal breast and vagina torture became the norm. After about a year I found out how far we were going to go. I showed up at work one morning and was tossed a thin booklet. “This is the plot line of your first feature film. Think you can do it? It was a 42 page “comics” called “Club X”. I flipped through the book and became more and more, well, somewhere between alarmed and turned on.

“The special effects budget is going to be a bit higher on this one than normal.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Excuse me?”
“We aren’t going to use ANY special effects”

I just sort of stood there flipping through the book. “Boss, I count a breast removal, a bisection, two impalement, another bisection, an electrocution and a decapitation.”

“Yeah, add in a couple of hangings, would you.”

“So, we really are going to make a snuff film?”

“It’s not like it’s murder. We are going to use slaves. And because they don’t have to so any sex scenes, they don’t even have to be trained sex slaves. I just bought 10 co-eds from my alma-mater. Seems that a sorority had some legal problems.”

I spent the next 6 weeks making “Club X”. It won all sorts of awards. We went on to make most of the Dolcett stories as either feature films or shorts.

After directing torture and snuff films for a year or so, I took a break for a while and went back to LA on vacation. I let my self get picked up at a bar (and, of course, got the signed two dollar bill, as “payment”. Yeah, I’m a two dollar whore). While the mambo was fucking me I found that while it was OK, I just wasn’t getting off on it. He finished, and dropped off. I turned on the TV in the hotel room and it came up on the “Cable Snuff Network”. A pair of identical twins were being tied to a set of chairs, back to back, totally nude. We get a close up of some one cutting an X into a bullet then loading it into a gun. I started fingering my self. We see the twins from the side, and then the gun comes into frame. We don’t see the shooter, just his arm extended out and the gun about a foot from one of the twins forehead. I realized, idly that this was take off on the scene from CSI. The shooter cocks the weapon, then fires. It cuts to from the shooter point of view and we see the blood splatter on the wall, in real blood, not paint like on the TV show. I also started cumming, and came hard. At that time I realized that I hadn’t had an orgasm with out some slut being either tortured or killed in well over a year. I realized that I had turned into, well a psychopath. Good thing that being one was more or less a job requirement now.

When I got back to Maryland, and reported in, the boss called me, and the rest of the crew into his office. “Well, the good news is I’m going to retire in 10 days. The bad news is that all of you are fired.”

Needless to say this went over like a bomb. “Calm down. CALM THE FUCK DOWN. I should have added ‘But you have been hired at a 50% increase in pay by the National Media Group.’ They bought decided to buy the studio. Time to party down!”.

Soon after the deal went through we did find out the bad news of the deal. They were moving us to the city of Eastlake, Oklahoma, where they were setting up a major studio for both their “The Torture Channel” and “Cable Snuff Network”. It’s not LA, hell it’s not even Baltimore, but it could be worse.

I was made the director of “Spellbook Slaves” a reality show based on a local small time slave trader and his household of slaves. Mr West, the trader in question, was also going to be part of an experiment to make the Miss America pageant “edgy”. The short version of it was that he and an lady slave trader were to see which one could make the most money selling off the runners up in the feed pageants in the Miss Oklahoma pageant. One of the other things that was being done was another show, based on the girl voted “Bitch Queen” by the other beauty queens being snuffed in creative ways. Mr. West had requested that I be his producer on the Miss Oklahoma show, so I went into the executive producer’s office pass on that request.

“Wendy, no problem on that. However, there is something else. We want you to be the mistress on the “Snuff the Bitch Queen, Oklahoma” show.”

“OK, I can do that…”

“You might want to wait a minute before you do that. If you want to be the show mistress, you will have to become a corporate asset slave. We will, of course, pay your house and other expenses, and you will get 3000 a week, tax free. You will be competing with two other girls. At the end, the mistress voted the winner will receive a 10 million dollar prize and be freed.”

“And the losers?”

“The winner gets to snuff them”.

“I see.” I thought about it for a few moments. “What the hell. Might as well. Where do I sign?”

A few forms later and a urine test later, I was no longer Wendy Morris, I was Slave Wendy, an whole owned assets of the National Media Group, and I had only a one in three chance of living out the year, at least in theory.