A friend told him of how it was possible to train a slavegirl. Break her spirit, he had
described it. Then train her to be whatever you wanted of a sexual partner. Perhaps the
idea was worth a try. It was kind of lonely out on the coast by himself. A slavegirl
would never make a friend, but at least he would not have to drive fifty miles for a quick
screw.
He pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. It was late afternoon when he exited
the car and opened the rear cargo section. A fog bank was forming off the coast and would
roll onshore before the sun was fully set. But the sun would shine for a while longer.
He stood there looking down at the wooden crate. There was no way of telling, if you did
not already know, that there was a living, naked woman inside, a total prisoner and
completely helpless.
For a minute he contemplated the plain wooden surface. He had watched the girls being
paraded up to the auction block, one naked, perfect body after another. Most glared at
the audience, others looked dejected, and some almost looked eager. Perhaps those were
the ones who were being sold by some particularly cruel owner and were glad to get away
from him.
Cory had just about decided not to buy any when this blonde had come up. There was
something different about her look. It took him a while but it came to him; there was a
look of intelligence behind those brilliant blue eyes. She had looked nervous, but that
was not unusual. These were, after all, captured wild animals. But there was something
different about this one. She did not look like a wild beast ready to lash out and kill.
He was surprised that no one else seemed to notice the difference. But then, perhaps all
they could see was the body. He saw a something different in her eyes and that interested
him.
Using a dolly from the garage, he carried the crate into his house and deposited it
leaning against the wall in the living room. Then he went for a screwdriver to remove the
screws.
At first it seemed as if she were dead. There was no life from the body tightly cocooned
in ropes and straps. Her fingers lay lifeless against her ass and he could not detect any
breathing. Had the oxygen bottle been bad? Or not full? Reaching down into the box, he
ran his fingers over the bottom of one foot. The toes wiggled and the fingers fluttered
briefly, then rested again. She was alive; probably just exhausted from the trip. She
had been in that crate for over two hours, closer to three.
Cory paused for a while, just looking down at his purchase. Even in this back view,
mostly of ropes and straps and skin, she was beautiful. And, somehow, all those
restraints upon her body made her even more beautiful. Perhaps it was what must be an
intense feeling of helplessness she was feeling, and which Cory was thinking about. Here
was this young woman, naked, totally unable to move or talk, and being taken to an unknown
fate. She might get a cruel Master who loved to whip his slaves. Or she might have been
sold to a brothel were she would spend the youthful years of her life chained to a bed
while dozens of men a day used her body as they wished.
His hand reached out and lightly stroked her flank where bare skin showed between some
ropes and a strap. It was smooth and alive. And it reminded him of his purpose in buying
this slave. He was horny, no question about that. Might as well get her out so he could
sample his new property.
There was a pamphlet taped inside the box. He picked it up and took it over to where
sunlight came through the large picture window. It was general information put out by the
National Slave Standards Board, giving instructions for the care and feeding of
slavegirls, and warning him about the dangers of not keeping enough restraints upon his
slavegirl. “Slavegirls are not rational, thinking creatures, but rather vicious animals
who will rip your throat out should you give them the slightest opportunity. Since the
infection of the entire world’s female population by the Savage DNA Virus, all women have
reverted to an earlier, much more primitive form of Homo Sapiens. They are highly sexual
animals with a strong sex drive, but who also hate men as passionately as they crave
sexual satisfaction.
“This is the Battle of the Sexes carried to the ultimate level. And men won! But never
underestimate your slave. Keep her in constant restraints sufficient to keep her under
total control. This pamphlet will describe the NSSB standards for restraint. It is
highly recommended that you purchase only high quality shackles and ropes from NSSB
approved distributors. Remember: your restraints fail and the first you’ll hear of it is
when your slavegirl slits your throat in the middle of the night!”
Charming, he thought. He tossed the pamphlet on the coffee table. It did not really
tell him anything he did not already know. Glancing at the crate with its still unmoving
constraints, he went to a closet and brought out a large suitcase. The side clearly
announced: “Brighton Basic Slave Control Kit,” and below that, “Approved NSSB Class A
Restraints.”
He had purchased the kit the day before, when he made the decision to at least visit the
auction. On the left side were half a dozen pairs of Peerless handcuffs. Below that two
pairs of legirons with different lengths of chain connecting the metallic cuffs. Next to
the shackles was a selection of white cotton rope, the kind that used to be called
“clothesline,” in various lengths, all clearly marked on the wrapping. Then came some
more coils of rope, this time a little thicker nylon cord. And there were a dozen hanks
of thin cord. Cory picked one of the thin ones up. Any woman tied with that would be
hurting, he realized. But he had also heard that sometimes it was necessary in order to
control a Wild.
He reminded himself that this was no longer a Wild. Captured and brought in behind the
Wall, she was now a Slave. Not much difference, especially at the start; they both acted
in the same vicious manner. Only after a lot of training and conditioning could a Wild be
turned into a domesticated slavegirl. And even then you had to be careful. She might
revert or be faking her submission. Some of them were smart enough to do that.
There was a leather collar and a metal one, designed to fit around the slave’s neck.
Each had rings attached in front and back so chains or ropes could be linked to them.
There were five small boxes labeled “Nipple Clamps” along with a rating: mild, standard,
heavy, punishment grade, and extreme. He did not open the packages. He knew what they
looked like. It was not uncommon to see them used on a slave in some drama on the TV, or
on a slave being walked out in public. He had even seen them on slaves in brothels,
apparently placed with the intention of making the slavegirl more docile, punishing her,
or making her more attractive to the customer because she was in pain while he used her.
Or all of the above.
There was also a riding crop and a short, black leather braided whip. Next to them was a
pamphlet labeled “Punishing Your Slavegirl.” He picked it up and fanned through the
pages. In addition to text, there were photos showing slavegirls being whipped, with
nipple clamps making their features contort with agony, and a whole section on bondage
positions that ensured extreme discomfort for the slavegirl simply because she was tied
that way. His gaze settled on one photo that caught his eye. It showed a lovely young
woman in a position he had not known was possible. Her hands had been tied behind her
back, and then her ankles crossed and bound. But then someone had pulled her legs up and
forced her feet behind her head. Rope was then tied from the ankles down to the wrists
and pulled cruelly tight. It was easy to see from her eyes that she was in agony. The
caption under the photo informed that: “This position is also good for sexual intercourse,
her sex being spread and exposed for easy access.” Under that, in smaller print, was the
caution: “It is not recommended that you leave a slavegirl tied like this for periods
longer than four hours. Because of the high strain on the limbs, damage can result,
although there have been reported cases of slaves keep this way for days with only sore
and stiff muscles resulting.”
Cory tossed the pamphlet back into the box. The idea of keeping a beautiful young woman
as a virtual prisoner did appeal to him. He was, after all, a healthy man with the normal
desires to control and use a woman’s body. Besides, he did not want to wake up one
morning to find his throat had been slit during the night.
He would use the ropes and handcuffs and shackles.
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