Dark Erotic Fiction

It’s a small club. I’ve been told that I might want to buy a partnership here. I’m not so sure. There is less than attractive redhead mulatto stripper slave on stage named Stormy. She’s dancing to a Hip Hop song, and not dancing very well.

Just as her song ends, the DJ kicks in with his spiel

“Welcome to tonight show here at Club Tartarus, where they dance and die! Well, wait a minute, let me deal with some thing first, this will take just a minute….”

With that, I see his hand come out of the window of the DJ booth over looking the primary stage with a 9mm pistol in it. Two quick shots later and Stormy is lying on the stage, with the top of her head blown off. The bouncer/bartender/cook comes up to the stage with meat hook in his hand, which he uses to pick up her dead body and drag it back to the kitchen area.

“Stormy will be available as girl burgers later tonight. If you want them. I’m not sure I would…” the DJ goes on. “I know I’m not supposed to just shoot them in the head, but you all know she wasn’t going to last long here any way, and she can’t dance for beans…”

OK, maybe this place has some merit after all…

“OK, let’s get on with tonight’s real show! Let’s give it up for ” …drum roll… “Christie!” Two bouncer bring Christie up from the dressing room. She’s a blonde, a bit thick, about a 7 on the 1 to 10 scale. She’s got a couple of tattoos, and large, but real tits. She is struggling, but they have her in a pretty good arm lock. She not going any where. The DJ goes on “As you know, we do snuff shows here. Tonight show is this week ’staff choice’. Christie was selected by the staff as the bitch we like so see die. She selected the being beheaded as her way of going. That’s sort of funny, because if she gave better head, she would get to keep her head. For those that care, Christie was sold to us by her boy friend.” A spot light highlights a skinny guy back in the corner. A blonde slave is blowing him, he sort of waves and the light goes off.

While the bouncers are bringing Christie up, two of the other dancers are pushing a guillotine onto the stage from the back stage area. That does explain why a club this size has a back stage, which isn’t normal for a strip club stage. The bouncers wrestle Christie into place, locking her into it, then placing the trigger cord out on to the stage. A rock song starts playing. One of the girls that pushed the guillotine onto the stage starts doing her routine, using the up rights of the guillotine as her stripper pole.

I’ve got to admit, as snuff shows goes this one is, well different.

A naked blonde comes up to me “Hi! my names Shea, want me to blow you while Siren dances?” I look at her. She’s got the longest nipples I have seen on a girl in a long time. Tiny tits, but 3/4 inch, maybe a full inch long nipples sticking out. She doesn’t really wait for me to answer, but sinks to her knees, pulling my cock out of my pants and taking it into her mouth. She licks the head for a bit, then takes it down, all the way down. She’s good, I’ll give her that. Siren dances, removing her top and bottoms, then grabs both of the up rights, flipping her self up, almost to the blade. She spins and twists a bit, then does an near perfect high bar dismount of of the guillotine. She spins around on the floor for the last few measures of the song, then grabs the cord and pulls. The blade falls, and Christie’s head lands with a thunk on the stage. Siren positions her self so the blood spray goes mainly on her, rubbing it into her tits and belly.

I cum. Hard into Shea’s mouth. Once I’m done she looks up at me “When I go, I’m going on a Jessica 3000″

I’ve seen dozens, hundreds even of slave girls snuffed before. Nothing like this club however. The DJ announces the next dancer as Siren and the other girl push the guillotine back off stage. The next dancer comes up, I kid you not, with a mop and bucket, wearing a French Maid outfit. She manges, over the course of two songs to not only get naked, but mop up most of the blood, more or less in time to the music. Amazing..

I’m going to have to really look into this partnership deal now.

I wake up this morning feeling something going on around my cock. After a second or two I realize that it’s an attempt at a blow job. You would think that ‘bad blow job’ would be an oxymoron, but this was what it was. I open my eyes, then look down my body. A stunning blonde with crystal clear blue eyes looks back up at me. Ingrid is across the room, sitting in her desk chair, with her normal unreadable expression on her face.

“Ingrid, remove this slave from my room at once. Have her sent down to the mid town facility and put in the practice slave pool for the torture school. Make sure that she is marked as being a snuff-able slave. They are doing their first slow hangs early next week and she will be ideal for that.”

Ingrid nods, and taps a set of buttons on her laptop. Blondie jerks, then drops to the ground, stunned from her collar. She then calls via the intercom for a pair of slaves on house work detail to remove the soon to be snuff puppet slave from the room.

“So, why are you going to have her snuffed? Just asking because we still have 3 dozen or so in her category”

“That is part of the reason why. There are three other reasons as well.
1) That was the worst blow job I’ve had after I’ve graduated from high school.
2) She volunteered to be on a reality show called “Horrible Things for Hotties”. She is very much is a hottie. Something horrible is about to happen to her
3) As you say, we have nearly 40 slaves in a limbo status right now. I’d like the rest of them to know that if they don’t do well here, they will go down to the mid town shop and have a Very Bad Day. While we don’t have any overcrowding issues, yet, if I understand what Marsh is saying, after this afternoon, we might be pushing it.”

“Oh? Isn’t he the slave master down at Dutch Hall?” Ingrid asked.

“Yes, he doesn’t call him self that, but yes, he is the driving force behind their slave conversion program there.”

I show up at the appointed 10:00 AM time at the school. Matt Marsh meets me at the door, directing me towards one of the smaller auditoriums in the school. Looks like where the drama classes are held. I enter the room, and find that NMG has a camera crew in place, and there are about 60 young women sitting in the chairs, facing the stage. As soon as we enter the stage, they all stop talking and stand up. Matt goes to the podium “Before we start here, I want to tell you all that a sizable fraction, well over half in fact, of you are slaves at this time. Over this summer, we sent conversion paper work to most of your parents. Many of them took the option of having you converted. We will be having those conversion papers invoked today. Please keep that in mind as you listen to our speakers today. Ms. Morris?”

Wendy came out of the left wing of the stage, taking the microphone from Matt. “Hello sluts !” Shocked looked from a lot of the girls in the audience. “OK, I known that it’s possible that not all of you are sluts, but if your not, I’m not talking to you anyway. As Mr. Marsh said, most of you are slaves now. The you have two questions to ask your self, The first is “would my parents enslave me?” The next is “What kind of slave do I want to be?” She held up a few papers. “I can tell you that if you are going to be enslaved today, as part of a parental conversion, this is the codicil you will be living under. It’s not your normal slave rules. Among other things, it has a long list of banned substances, activities and a very strict curfew system in place. The short version is you have to be a perfect daughter and student, or you get punish. Harshly punished. It’s the ultimate ‘Tough Love’ document.”

I turned to Matt “Is it as bad as she is making it?”

He nodded “Oh, quite so. It’s a zero tolerance document. Any and all infractions, which include not making a 100% on all assigned schools work, will result in some sort of punishment. Mainly flogging, but it goes up from there. Some branding, some time on torture machines, that sort of thing. It has some terminal options as well. Failing a class, for example, will result in being killed at the next weeks school activity meeting. I’m really quite pleased with the response we got out of this drive. 60% of these girls are signed up for it, with another 20% under a less extreme version, and several under a very extreme version that pretty much says “snuff my daughter“. He pointed out a pair of red heads sitting in the back of the room. “See those two? 2nd to last row, 4th and 5th seat? If the first doesn’t take one of the other offers made to day she is going to be put on a rack and pulled apart. Her sister next to her is going to be slow impaled. Unless they take Ms. Morris or your offer, they aren’t leaving this room alive. It seems that they each have a major trust fund that their mother would like to have control over. It’s a post 2000 trust, which doesn’t default in case of enslavement, only death. Why she choose to have them killed in painful way I can’t say, but I am glad for it.”

Wendy tosses the codicil aside. “I have another offer for you. You can volunteer to be on my current reality show ‘Horrible things for Hotties’. Yes, there is a good chance that you will have some thing horrible happen to you. There is also a chance you could walk you of the studio a free woman, with a million dollars tax free” I thought to me self, yeah right. They have over 200 slaves now on that show. One of them is going to survive it.

After the girls stopped talking in response to Wendy dangling the big prize money in front of them, she said “If you want to sign up, please, come forward to the desk on the right hand side of the stage.” A few girls stood up and started to come down to the stage. Wendy picked up the microphone ans said “Because the show is all about hotties, we need to make sure you qualify. Please strip before you come down.” This caused one of the girls to sit back down. Matt shook his head “She should have stripped. She’s on the extreme list. Not a requested kill, but given her parents requested rules and punishments, she’s going to be dead with in the month.” After a few minutes there were 8 nude girls in front of the NMG conversion desk. They were rapidly processed and sent up to the left wing off stage. there they were ball gagged, then placed in a “steel hog tie”, then put in slave shipping crates. Wendy walked up and said just loudly enough so that they could hear her “OK, have these snuff puppets sent to the torture school. They are part of the next challenge.“

I wake up, receiving my normal morning blow job. Doesn’t feel like Ingrid this morning, but it’s a skillful one never the less. As I feel my self starting to cum I reach down and hold who ever it is sucking my cock head down as I unload into her mouth. After doing that, I open my eyes and see Ingrid standing by the door, and a red head, one of the latest batch of volunteers, down by my cock.

“Is she any good?”

“Yeah, about a 7 on the 1 to 10 scale.”

“She said she would rank at least an 8. Care to re-evaluate her based on that?”

Not something I really want to do while just waking up. It was good, but not mind blowing good, which is what any thing over a seven would be.

“Ah, no. Not really. Maybe not even a 7. More like 6.5 or so.”

I thought about it for few seconds, looking down at her. She was one the mob that had volunteered via the NMG web site just to be on the “Torture School” show, what ever it is they are calling it, “Horrible Things for Hotties:Schools Special” or something like that. She didn’t make the cut to be one of the room slaves, but scored high enough to not be one of the cannon fodder practice slaves. Well, that’s about to change, sort of.

“After breakfast, have her sent to the midtown office. She is to be graded by all the torture school students. For every point under 10 she receives, the grader will be allowed to give her, oh, let’s say 10 lashes. Make sure they know that before she starts sucking them.”

Ingrid looked at me. “You know that means she might get a thousand lashes“.

I nodded “Yeah, but I suspect she will only get a couple of hundred. Hey, she volunteered for this. To be on a show called ‘Horrible things for Hotties’. She is a hottie. Something horrible is about to happen to her. What’s the problem? And you, I might add, brought her to my attention.”

Ingrid looked back at me. “Yes, I did. And there are some more in the back room you are going to meet soon as well.”

I don’t understand her some times.

That charming bit of home life done, I get up, toss on my clothes and head down to what used to be my primary office, now just my computer room. I check my email, and I have one from Mr. Marsh, down at Dutch Hall. He wants me to come down to the school as soon as possible today and that I am to bring my slaving kit with me. He must have some students that got caught with something in their lockers again. Slaves is slaves. Odd that he would ask for me in person, vs just having on of the staff handle it. Normally, in the case of things like contraband found on school property, the young woman is given the ‘choice’ to volunteer, or have charges pressed against her. Given that the three companies that won the “right of first purchase” lottery for judicial enslavement in Eastlake are Deep Kiss Traders, The Abernathy Foundation and Hill’s Fine Meat and Slaves, it’s no wonder that many take the volunteer route. Slightly better chances of living out the next 2 years, or keeping your mind intact, if the stories about what happens at the Abernathy place are any where near accurate. Deep Kiss still makes most of their money in the suck clubs, all of which have various terminal options for their slaves. Hill’s, of course, started off as a straight butcher shop, that expanded into Alternate Meat sources, then decided that torture and snuff slaves would be a good market to get into as well.

I reply, saying that I will be there some time around 10:00.

10:00 rolls around, and I find my self in Mr. Marsh’s office. “So, what can I do for you, Mr. Marsh?”

“Please, call me Matt. Are you aware of SB-0056?

“Isn’t that the nut job’s primary bill? Last I heard that was getting a beat down in committee and wasn’t going any where for a while.”

“Yes, it is Rev. Wagner’s bill. And yes, I suspect your are right about it not passing, but if it does, it will put us in a rather strange place.”

“Go on“.

“Well if it passes, even the watered down version that some are saying has a chance of passing, it will make us an enslaving authority, at least for Oklahoma law purposes.”

“And this is bad because? That was not a random question. I really didn’t see the problem.

“The 45 day law would then take effect. We would not be allowed to keep a slave for more than 45 days.”

“So you sell the students that you enslave off with in 45 days. What is the problem?”

“It isn’t the students that are the problem. We have plans, which would be very hard to break, for reasons I’m not going to go into, aside for saying that it deals with one of our larger grants, to make at least part of our staff asset slaves.

The penny drops. One of their rich south side donors must have made a grant to the school, with some sort of stipulation about the staff. “OK, what part of the staff gets to be asset slaves then?”

“The female members of the athletic department for the high school, and selected members of the Drama, Dance and Music staff”

“I see.” Translation, the hot teachers get to be made into slaves.

“Yes, I suspect you do. At any rate, what we would like is to establish, well before the passage, if it happens, of SB-0056 a leasing relationship with Spellbook Slaves. You will purchase our current stock of slaves, which is, I believe, on the order of 19, and will supply to us selected skill slaves. Of course, we would require a separate discipline regulations than your current one for asset slaves.”

He handed me a 4 pages of paper, which had his idea of what a discipline regulation would be. “You expect to get women to agree to this?” I was stunned at it. The basic thrust of was that if a team lost a game, the coach would be punished, by public flogging, based on the score of the game. There were other punishments, including a couple of snuff ones, for over all season level performance of the teams. Looking on, I find that for the boys football and basketball teams, the cheerleading coach would be be punished if the team lost. On the last page I find that they were planing on having athlete, performers and cheerleaders be a type of ‘jointly controlled asset slave’.

“And would you explain what the hell this last page is about?”

“To answer your questions, yes, I do expect our staff to sign it. They have already, the paperwork is just waiting on your approval of this scheme. As to the jointly controlled asset slaves, it’s simple. To be on a varsity team, to be a cheerleader or to appear in any of our shows, dance recitals or vocal concerts, female students of age must agree to enslavement. Or, of course, they can be enslaved by their parents. Either way, the control of them will be shared between you and their parents, as long as they are a student in good standing in our school. Once they either leave the school or graduate, their parents will be offered a buy out option. If they choose not to take it, then they default to you, as full slaves, with out an asset contract. I suspect you will find a ready market for trained singing and dancing teenage slaves. And of course, we know what happens to cheerleader slaves.”

What could I say? “Let me see the staff first, then we will talk.“

I was sitting in the back of the room, watching all the prep work on the cheerleaders. Once Wendy and her crew seemed happy with what they had set up with them, then let in the young men I had selected from the applications for work/study at Spellbook Slaves as being the best options for the new program that NMG wanted me to run, that being training slaver/torturers, not just straight slavers. What ever, they are paying the bills, and, hey, I get off on watching young women being tortured, might as well do it more or less full time for a while.

The young men I had selected had all meet my criteria for this project
1) Taken (and passed) both wood shop and metal shop. I was surprised that an up scale school like Dutch Hall had as strong an “Industrial Arts” program as it did, until I saw the school shops, and the small plaque saying that they were a from a grant from RockCo Construction. Figures. Charles Rock was one of Eastlake’s richest men, but he never forgot where his money came from. I also saw the projects they made. Very impressive for high school students.

2) Had selected Spellbook S&G as their first or only choice on the work/study program

3) Not members of any of the “big” varsity teams.

4) Had taken at least one computer class past the “This is the on switch” class that everybody has to take in Oklahoma.

5) Be over 18 at the start of the school year. Technically all they had to be was 16 for the license, but I suspected that some sort of on screen sex would happen, so let’s make sure they are over 18! Weird laws. You can enslave a 16 year old in Oklahoma, but she can’t be photographed having sex until she is over 18.

Basically I was looking for someone sort of like myself, but half my age! Well, little younger than half my age, truth be told.

Any rate I watched the guys ogle at the cheerleaders for a minute, then Wendy stepped up and had the camera crew stop filming for a moment and said “Hi guys, welcome to reality TV, I’m going to make you a star!”

“Let me introduce Mike West, your new boss”

With that I stood up and walked to the front of the room.

“Hi guys. You have been selected to be the core of a new group at Spellbook Slaves, you are going to be my torture staff. You will also get the standard training for passing your White Slaver’s test, but you will also get training in the fine art of torture. As Wendy said, this is also going to be a reality show, however unlike most shows of that nature, there will not be any voting off or any thing like that. There will be weekly projects or challenges, that will be graded. Some contest will have their own prize, but most will just add to your total score. The inquisitor with the highest score at the end of the semester will receive a prize of his own torture slave, and $10,000. Second place gets a slave and $5,000, while 3rd gets just the slave.

“We have contacted your parents, and they are OK with this, or you wouldn’t be here, but you are all over 18, so you have to make the final decision. If you want to be part of this show, read over and sign the papers that Wendy has for you. Just a bit of warning, you will be living in the headquarters building of Spellbook Software, and your contact with the outside world will be limited, so you might want to think about that before you sign.”

There was a brief pause, while Wendy passed out the contracts and they all signed them. Ah, youth. Notice I said signed them, not read and signed them. Not that there were any ambushes in their contracts. The ones that the young women would be signing, on the other hand, were a veritable legal mine field.

“OK, now that that bit of business is over, here is the first challenge of the contest. You are to make, using the metal and wood working shop, a whip to flog these 6 slaves with. You will have 2 hours to do this. Once you have finished, your whip will be tested by our guest judges, professional torturers from The Torture Channel. You will find materials, to include leather, silk cords, and rope, in the wood working shop, and of course you may use any of the metal or wood stock in either of the shops. Your whip will be judged on it’s effectiveness as a torture tool, the quality of it manufacture and it’s over all appearance. You may use Cindy Holcomb as your test slave for your whip. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you which big titted red head she is. Bobbi Holland will be the final test subject when your whips are evaluated by our judges.” Cindy, a natural red head with larger than normal tits for a cheerleader, was the head cheerleader last year. For some reason, she and the senior captain, Bobbi Holland, had been selected by Mr. Marsh to receive the harshest punishments, and if that they were to be the first ones used in any “terminal” contests. I suspect that a few blow jobs by either of those girls last year to the right guidance counselor would have prevented at least some of this from happening to them, but I don’t know that for a fact. While it was obvious that Cindy and Bobbi were going to have short, but painful lives, knowing that NMG is involved in this whole project the other 4 ex-cheerleaders’ life expectancy wasn’t much longer, or were their lives going to be any less painful. For the 4 not chosen for today torture , “all” that was going to happen to them was to hang by their wrists for 3 or 4 hours. Well, that and the 2nd degree burns they got when their shackles were welded on.

“Any questions? OK, your time starts….NOW!”

I thought this was going to be a sucky year, because my folks decided that I need to learn some sort of ‘life skills’ instead of just hanging out playing games with my friends. So I had to sign up for some sort of lame ass “Work for credit” program at school.

So, there I was, two weeks before school really starts, looking over the list of places that I can apply at, and holy shit “Spellbook S&G” is listed, with just the industry listed as “Slaving”. That can’t be! I signed up for it as my first choice! I mean, damn! I turned in my papers to the counselors office and was told that they would get back to me about when my interviews would be. Like I cared about any of them other than the first one!

Two days later I get a phone call from the school. I’m to report to the school for some sort of pre test for the work program. Damn, what ever. I get there, and am told to report to room 212a, which sucks, because that’s the metal shop. I must have missed out on the Slaver thing, damn!

I get to the metal shop, and there is a TV camera crew setting up lights and stuff. There are about 10 guys from the senior class hanging out in the hallway. I can see the flash of the welding machines. I’m told to wait a few minutes. After they get the lights all set up and I hear some cranking noises the guy that seems to be in charge comes out and waves us in.

Once we get inside the metal shop, well, I popped wood, or maybe steel. All the cheerleaders that graduated last year are in there, complete nude and hanging by their wrists over the work area! Maybe I didn’t miss out! This is way fucking cool.

The camera crew is filming us freak out about the girls, but after 2 or 3 minutes this hot looking chick in a “The Torture Channel” tee shirt comes up to us, waving the camera guys to not film her “Hi guys, welcome to reality TV, I’m going to make you a star!”

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.

“Spellbook Slaves, can I help you.”

“Yes, you can. I want my wife killed.”

“OK, we can do that, assuming she qualifies for enslavement.”

“And what are the the qualifications then?”

She can’t be a mother of minor children, can’t be pregnant at time of enslavement and must not have filed an abuse charge against you in the last 3 years. You must also pay the slave tax and the meat tax.”

“Meat tax? Why?”

“Because any slave killed with in 96 hours of enslavement or ownership transference is assumed to be a meat slave.”

“Oh, I see. And how much are these taxes”

“Well, I have a standard price for this sort of thing, it’s an all up fee of $1,000, assuming you don’t want the body back. It’s 1500 if you do. That’s an inclusive price, which include the enslavement fees and taxes, her being slow hanged while you watch, and a blow job from a slave while she hangs, if you want it.”

“Well that seems more than fair. I’ll be in later this afternoon.”

WARNING:

Explicit, Nasty Torture Ahead

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