Repost; A Year Of Slavery 1-1 By debs nc,bdsm,tort.sex,MM/FF/f

[Johnny P]

Disclaimer: This story contains graphic descriptions of sex, violence, rape and
torture. It is definitely NOT for anyone under 21 or who is offended by such
material. This story is fictional and any resemblance to anyone dead or alive is
purely coincidental. I welcome comments and suggestions from readers but all
flames will be ignored.
A Year of Slavery # 1-1
"Caught And The Contract" by;
debs Edited by;
Johnny P
My day began as any normal Saturday, no work, up at 6 a.m. doing my chores. I
knew John would be arriving around noon, no time for me, football first. Usually
I look forward to our Saturdays at home. This one was to be quit different. I am
always trying to find ways to get out, this day I would be begging to stay at
home. I knew I would be entertaining at least two
men and four women this night. I knew also that I must get some of the little
unpleasant tasks out of the way. With heavy heart and many anxieties, I began.
It was only 9 a.m., three hours to myself, I was already wishing I had stayed in
bed longer since I had a good idea how bad this night could turn out for me.
The first thing I knew I had to do was to go into the bathroom and start getting
myself cleaned out. I was told to start the night before with a light meal and a
mild laxative, but this time especially my nerves did the job for me. I had a
very nervous stomach and no appetite whatever. The best I was able to get down
was some broth. I awoke with the same feelings in my stomach as the previous
night but knew I needed some nourishment. With what I assumed lay ahead it was
not a good idea to eat very much but decided on some tea and toast. The less I
had in me the better. From previous experience I knew I would need as much
strength and endurance as possible, so I doubled my normal vitamin intake.
I went into the bathroom and from the vanity took out the small chest which
contained my enema equipment. At times I have had many pleasurable experiences
with this chest but now looked at it with much disdain. I knew what must be
done. I filled the bag with about a quart of the hottest water I could stand and
3 capfuls of Dr. Bonners soap. This was a little severe but would help later. I
hung it on the side of the shower let the air out of the tube and closed the
clamp. I looked at the nozzle which was not all that large and realized it would
be to my advantage to start stretching myself on my own and at my own pace. The
chest had an assortment of tips and nozzles from which I selected one of the
largest. At least I would be gentle on myself. I attached it to the dangling
hose and spread a generous amount of K-Y all over it. This was one of the
biggest I had but knew it was of medium size to them. As I spread the lubricant
I could only hope this procedure would be followed later.
I removed my robe and reached behind myself to spread the K-Y into my rectum. In
doing so I caught site of myself in the mirror. All I could do was stare and for
a brief moment hate the statuesque image that reflected back at me. This was one
time I wished I did not possess my 5ft. 8in., 120lb, 34-20-34 body with natural
blonde hair. Maybe if I was plain and ordinary they would not want me.
I slowly got myself down on the floor and turned onto my side getting as
comfortable as I could. I reached over, took the nozzle and started to slip it
very carefully inside myself. At first it was painful so I took a deep breath
and gave a gentle push. It hurt but I knew worse was to come. After a lot of
twisting, pushing and gasping the nozzle was in place. I thought how in the past
I had larger objects in my ass but this was very uncomfortable. It was probably
a subconscious fear of what I knew was to come. My nerves were getting the best
of me. All I needed to do was slide my hand up and release
the clamp. I did not want to, but knew I must. As the hot water hit me I tried
with all my will to relax. I get enemas on a regular basis and have even learned
to enjoy them. This one was different. This was not for my pleasure or for
Johns. This was to start to clean me out for what would be done to me. As the
water continued to flow I began to think of what had caused me to be in this
predicament. I had embezzled a
large sum of money from the company I worked for. The theft was discovered and I
was given a simple choice. Become a sex slave to Mr. and Mrs. Winston or face
five years in prison. As I lie on the floor I became overwhelmed with my plight.
The worst part was there was no good reason for me to steal the money. I never
needed all those clothes, shoes and jewelry.
I felt the pressure in my stomach along with a severe cramp so I looked up at
the bag and saw that it was empty. I removed the nozzle, turned on my back and
let the solution in me do its work. This was the first of at least three enemas
I would have to administer to myself before John arrived. Mrs. Winston was very
explicit as to her requirements and would know if I did not follow instructions.
The last thing I wanted was to give her reason to cause me any more pain, There
would be enough. After about ten minutes of retaining this mixture I could not
hold it any longer. As I sat on the bowl I thought of the problem with John. He
could not know. I would have to make him leave as early as possible by telling
him I was tired and did not feel up to par. Lately I was treating him very badly
but he did not know why, he could never know.
It is not easy to take one enema after another but I had no choice. This one was
to be a half gallon of hot water. I was told that the more I take now and the
hotter it is, the easier for me later. As I began to refill the bag I could not
help looking at myself in the mirror. My attention was brought to my breasts. I
had always been very proud of their voluptuous 34-D size, but now remembered the
pain they were forced to endure. As I stared at them I recalled the last session
with the Winstons and the Dr. The tremendous pain, and yet almost no visible
evidence.
This time the nozzle went into me a little easier. As I opened the clamp I tried
to forget what was to happen tonight and what happened two weeks ago. I told
myself to just relax and take this second hellish enema. The water was hotter
than I had imagined and was causing me to sweat over my entire body. The pain in
my lower abdomen was becoming almost unbearable but I knew it was opening me for
whatever they had in store.
Mrs. Winston was very pleased as she summoned me to her office on Thursday
afternoon. She handed me a note and a package which detailed my preparations for
Saturday night. After a lot of verbal abuse and mental torture she very
sarcastically told me how much they looked forward to my first visit. Her last
words were those of warning to follow her instructions of preparation to the
letter. I had never had this much water in me
before and was now in severe pain, but the half gallon was now in. As I looked
down at my stomach the horror became apparent. It looked as if I were at least
four or five months pregnant. Blue veins were crisscrossing my lower abdomen. I
had not even began to try and get up when the instructions for my next
preparation enema crashed into my head. Three quarts very hot. As I sat on the
bowl feeling as if my insides were being ripped from my body I knew I had no
choice but to obey. As I sat and found instant relief I wondered as to some of
the instructions I had been given. What were the plans they had for me. Why all
these enemas. I learned during my visit to the Drs. about some of the games
these people played. I remembered the anal abuse I suffered. That's why all this
preparation was instilling a feeling of deep fear. I feared I was to learn
things I did not want to know.
As I remained on the bowl my mind drifted to Mrs. Winstons note. The detailed
instructions for the enemas. The way she described how I was to douche myself.
The details for hair and make-up. Her order to wear the clothes provided in the
package. What was in the package? I hadn't even looked. I kept thinking of
different comments she had made during the past week. Many made no sense while
other things made all to much sense. She purposely made me know about the four
women. Her, Goldie, the Dr. but who else? Would it possibly be the Warden?
She knew from my first experience with them how much I hated being touched and
violated by a woman. The men would be terrible but I feared the women would be
more vicious and sadistic. Then there was the sex. I had never in my life been
with a woman and now I would be forced to perform the most degrading acts
imaginable. I glanced at the clock, 10:30, I
had about an hour and a half. As I filled the bag for the third and final time I
wondered to myself how I would take three quarts, it seemed impossible but I
knew I must try no matter how painful.
Just as I was about to insert the nozzle the phone rang. John, "hi honey, no
nothing is wrong, your not coming, your back again". As much as I wanted him,
maybe this was a blessing in disguise. After a brief conversation I agreed to
speak with him later. As much as I hated doing so I knew I would have to put him
off with some excuse. Maybe going to see my mother or sister or maybe use the
old shopping routine. He would be angry and accuse me of as he put it "jerking
him off". Tomorrow when he called I would pretend to be sick, bad stomach as
usual. I would probably not want to talk, just stay in bed and try and
recuperate from the nights ordeals. But these were things John could not know.
The third enema was a nightmare. I had never taken anything nearly this large
and after two quarts I considered stopping it. My stomach was so swollen I
feared it would burst. It filled me so completely that it caused a tremendous
pressure on all my internal organs. I was afraid to look down for fear of what I
might see. As I did so, to my amazement my breasts seemed to be much larger than
normal. It was then that I realized how difficult it was just to breathe. It
seemed my intestines were pushing up into my lungs. I immediately reached for
the clamp to stop the flow before I passed out. As I laid on the floor gasping
for breath I knew I could not take any more. As I removed the nozzle and
struggled to the bowl Mrs. Winstons note came to mind. How would doing this to
myself help me later? After
spending quite a long time in the bathroom I finally came back to myself. The
best thing I could do now was try and get some rest. I felt guilty about what I
was doing to John, but knew it was best. I made a cup of tea and went into the
bedroom. As was my habit I put on the T.V. mainly for some sound. This is one of
the small quirks that comes with living alone. Making myself as comfortable as
possible I realized how strange enemas were. Just a few minutes ago I was in
terrible pain and now it was almost gone. No marks, no bruises just excruciating
pain when it is being forced into you. I thought of one of Mrs. Winstons
comments to me. No permanent damage, no lasting bruises but the pain would make
you pray for death. Why did they want to hurt me? This was all explained when I
was caught and offered the deal. These people were very wealthy and had all that
money could buy. But they were bored and had become very jaded in their games.
From what I had known they had traveled extensively. Had a large mansion in the
suburbs of Long Island. Owned expensive cars, horses a yacht and who knows what
else. But they were bored.
Somehow after trying many different forms of sexual activity they found
excitement in S & M. As if some disease of the wealthy some of their friends
shared the same interest. When my crime had been discovered they seized the
opportunity. I was summoned into Mr. Winstons office and confronted with the
evidence. I was the company bookkeeper and tried to explain how he was mistaken.
It was then that Mrs. Winston showed me all the checks I had forged and ledgers
I had altered. My heart sank and I knew I was caught.
I remember looking around for the police. It was then that they explained my
plight. All they had to do was make one phone call and I would be arrested. With
all the evidence they had there was no question as to my being convicted of a
class A felony. It was explained in graphic detail how I would serve five years
in a womans penitentiary. It was also made very clear as to how they would use
their considerable influence to guarantee I would be sent to the worst. I was
also told how they could make sure I would receive the harshest treatment
possible. As it happened the Wardress was a personal friend of Mrs. Winston and
would oversee my stay. The picture they were painting was indeed a bleak one.
As long as I live I will never forget what happened next. Mrs. Winston as
casually as if ordering a cup of coffee said, "but you have a choice". Her voice
dripped of sarcasm and she had a devilish grin on her face. I was informed that
if I agreed to become their slave and follow all orders for a period of one year
all would be forgotten and I could even keep the money. I could not believe what
I was hearing, slave. I was speechless. The look on my face must have told of my
amazement at what she was saying. The only word I was able to get out was slave.
It was at this point she pulled up a chair and with a smile began to explain.
She told me how they and a close group of friends who enjoyed using females in
various ways. Many of the phrases she used were foreign to me. S & M, B & D,
Watersports, Beastiality, Fisting, Forced sex, Medical torture. I felt the blood
drain from my head and the room begin to spin. This amused the couple and they
both had a great laugh at my reaction. After my color returned and they were
done with their comments Mrs. Winston continued.
She explained how I would have to present myself at their home once a month on a
Saturday for one year. I was also told about being fitted for some special
articles of clothing. And last but far from least the extensive medical
examinations. She went on to further explain how they would have to be sure I
was strong enough to take what they would be doing to me. But she stressed, for
their own protection, it would have to be determined that I was disease free. I
would have to continue working for them. I could go on with my life as usual
except for a few minor changes.
After listening to what she was saying I jumped from the chair and ran for the
door. It was locked. I demanded the door be opened and told them they were both
very sick people. Their response was just to laugh at me. They calmly explained
that there was no place I could run to. I was told that if I desired the police
would be summoned immediately. It was then that Mr. Winston suggested that I sit
back down and hear the rest of what they had to say.
I was handed a large envelope and told to go home and study its contents. I was
also informed that I would be under surveillance at all times and my phone calls
would be monitored. If I tried to run away I would be arrested and all their
threats carried out. I could not find any comfort or
peace here in my bed. My mind was riding a roller coaster. The fear of what
would happen tonight. The memories of what had been done already. As I stared at
the ceiling my mind wandered back to that day when I was confronted by the
Winstons. I remembered leaving them sitting in his office looking at me as if I
were a side of beef. As I picked up the envelope I was told to study, I glanced
first at Mr. Winston and then at her. The expressions on both their faces turned
my knees to jelly. Their eyes, cold as ice pierced into my very soul.
I recalled how I had struggled home making sure to double lock the door behind
me, as if that would help. The memories of all I had heard. The stupidity of
what I had done. How did I think I could get away with it? I thought of the home
shopping channel and cursed the day it was invented. If it wasn't for my need to
buy what I really didn't need I wouldn't be in this situation now. Also the fact
that John had warned me many times made me feel even worse.
The memories of the envelope came to mind. They were smart and knew exactly what
they were doing. The contents were copies of all the forged checks, altered
ledgers and a video cassette. A note on the cassette simply read this shows what
may happen to you in prison. I remembered how my hand was shaking so violently,
I couldn't get it into the VCR. After watching for only a few moments I was in a
state of complete shock. It depicted woman of all shapes and sizes. All ages
from young to old, and of all races. The one thing they all shared was a blank
stare. As the tape continued I saw the cells and the horrible living conditions.
The next scene showed about two dozen women in a shower. They had no privacy and
were herded in like so many cattle. It was in looking at some of the close ups
that I realized that a lot of the faces looked much older than the bodies to
which they belonged. The faces all indicated a tremendous amount of suffering.
My eyes were riveted to the screen. It was then that something caught my eye. As
if they had read my mind the camera came to focus on a big well built red head.
She seemed to be about my own age but it was impossible to tell. As she washed,
I was shown her body from every angle. What I saw made me gasp out loud. She was
covered with welts and bruises. Her back, ass, legs, thighs, stomach and breasts
were covered with whip marks. Next I saw a young
blonde girl who appeared to be a little more than a teenager. Her body was
covered with the same type of marks. I was literally mesmerized by the images on
the TV screen. As I was trying to digest the images before me the scene changed.
It showed 2 big black female guards dragging an attractive middle aged Spanish
woman down a dark corridor. The sound was of poor quality but it was easy to
hear that she was screaming and begging. I was able to make out some of her
words. "No please not again, I will do whatever you want". As a door came into
view she screamed "please don't torture me again I can't take any more, just
tell me what to do". Then a door opened revealing a dimly lit room filled with
many different objects. As the lights from the camera illuminated the room I was
able to make out what some of these objects were. I saw an assortment of strange
tables and benches. Ropes and chains hung from the ceiling. A large wooden chair
came into focus. From it dangled several broad leather straps. Hanging near the
chair were what looked like electrical wires with large alligator clips on the
end. Next the camera moved to a wall from which hung a huge array of whips,
paddles, canes, rope, chain, handcuffs of different sizes and dozens of things I
could not identify. As the camera showed the room I could
hear screams in the background. The scene returned to the Spanish woman. She was
hanging from a chain attached to her handcuffs. Her dress had been removed
leaving her in bra and panties. At that moment one of the black guards took a
small knife and cut the bra from her body. At that point I had to look away. Her
breasts were a mass of angry looking bruises. A strange voice brought my
attention back to the screen. It belonged to a beautiful but for some reason
very evil looking woman. She appeared to be very tall and large, not fat just
large. I had no idea who she was or what she was doing in this room. I guessed
her age to be about fifty. Her black hair was done in the latest style and her
suit was Chanel. Even on the TV screen looking at her sent a shudder through me.
I know now how right I was.
The expression on the face of the Spanish woman was one of terror. As she said
her next words a lot of things became clearer to me. "Please Wardress, don't let
them torture me again". I immediately remembered the comment Mrs. Winston made
about the Wardress being a personal friend. Could this be her. My mind was not
able to digest all I had just seen and heard. I shut off the VCR.
Now as I laid twisting and turning I remembered the night I sat viewing the
tape. I remembered thinking that this was impossible. This is 1996. Things like
this don't happen. They don't treat people like this in prison. Do they? I
remember how after sitting in the dark for a few minutes, something inside me
made me turn the VCR back on. The Spanish woman kept begging the
Wardress to be released. She promised to do whatever anyone wanted of her. To my
disbelief I heard her say, "let me eat all the guards. They can all fuck me if
they want to. Tell them they can fuck me in the ass with the big dildos. I'll
never say no again". I stared at the screen as if in a trance. The bound woman
continued to beg the Wardress to give her another chance. The camera captured
the panic on the face of the bound woman as well as the icy stare of the
Wardress. I had a very hard
time grasping everything the Spanish woman was saying. I was not unaware of
certain sexual practices but what I heard next was hard to believe. She had a
nervous look on her face as she turned her face toward the woman and said "they
can all watch me fuck the dogs, they won't have to force me this time. then I'll
eat them all". I was completely taken aback by what she had just said. How could
she volunteer to do such a thing? What had they done to her to bring her to this
point? Was this a prison or an insane asylum? I
continued to watch as the Wardress talked to her guards. After a time she turned
back to the hanging woman and told her "you will be given the opportunity to do
everything you said, but first you must be punished for disobeying the guards
orders". The woman started to scream and rip at her shackled wrists. This
brought a round of laughter from the Wardress and two guards. The hanging woman
was becoming more frantic. She kept yelling "no more torture, please. I'm still
hurting from the last time". The Wardress was unaffected by her pleas. She just
turned to the guards and said "put her on the table on her back, I want to work
on those tits again". The guards were on the bound woman in an instant. Her
handcuffs were released and she was being dragged across the room. Her cries and
screams could not be understood. I watched as she was thrown onto a wooden table
and quickly strapped into place. Her arms and legs were pulled to the ends and
thick straps were attached. Another strap was brought across her chest just
under her breasts. Satisfied the guards stepped back.
The camera came into focus on the Wardress. As I kept watching I felt my heart
pounding in my chest. Is this what could happen to me I kept asking myself? Is
this for real? Maybe its some kind of act for my benefit? My attention went back
to the screen. The Wardress had removed her own jacket and was now removing her
blouse. There she stood in a long black bra and skirt. She was indeed more
beautiful than I had first thought. She was a large woman in more ways than one.
Her massive breasts swelled over the top of her bra. This image made me totally
shudder. The idea of this woman having total control of me for five years. What
would she make me do and what could she do to me? The camera
again focused on the poor bound woman. She struggled as much as the straps
allowed. There were tears now visible on her face. As I watched a tray was
wheeled over to the table by one of the guards. The Spanish woman again began to
speak, "Please don't do my tits again, do something else. Beat me instead, put
the water in me. Use the needles on me, look what they did to my tits already".
The Wardress just smiled at her and said "they did nothing compared to what I'll
do bitch. You will learn to obey me and my guards". She then picked up what
looked like a piece of rubber garden hose and showed it to the helpless woman.
The response was one of complete panic. I watched as she thrashed around and
tried to tear free of the straps which held her. The Wardress brought the hose
up over her head and in a swift motion swung it downwards crashing into the
victims breasts. This was repeated a number of times bringing almost inhuman
cries of agony. No part of her breasts were spared, the tops, bottoms, sides and
even the nipples received the whipping. Finally the wardress put the hose down.
The camera showed a very clear picture of this torture. Both breasts seemed to
swell before my eyes and turn an angry dark blue color. I heard the woman
gasping for breath as I watched her whole chest heaving in the tight bonds.
After a time the bound woman stopped screaming and said through her tears "you
dyke cunt, someday I'll kill you". This only brought more laughter. Finally the
Wardress looked down at her and said "I see you haven't learned your lesson
yet". She turned to one of the guards and said "bring me the long needles, I'll
teach her to threaten me". I could not watch anymore. The tape had served its
purpose. Anything would be better than spending five years in this hellhole, or
so I thought at that time. It was clear the Winstons had me just where they
wanted me. They knew after seeing the contents of the envelope I would submit to
their demands.
I remained in bed and remembered how I went to work the following day. After
trying in vain to get on with my job the intercom on my desk rang, it was Mr.
Winston. I recalled how in a perfectly normal tone of voice he summoned me to
his office. I was asked if I had studied the contents of the envelope. With my
eyes to the floor I replied that I had. He then asked if I had come to a
decision. I recalled how I could not look up at him and the way I stood
shuffling my feet. It took a long time for the words to reach my lips. All I
could say was "you win". He sarcastically told me he thought I would see it
their way and would now call his wife. He then instructed me to get back to work
and not leave at 5 o'clock, but to come to his office to go over the
arrangements of our deal as he put it.
In the days following that first meeting there were several others. I was made
to sign a complete confession and even had to sign a contract stating I was
willing to become their slave for a period of one year. Mrs. Winston was present
at all the meetings. Many times I would catch her looking at me in very strange
ways. This always sent a shiver down my spine. She would look at me as if to
undress me with her eyes. Several times she would look directly at me and
comment how she could not wait to get her hands on me. How she would make me
beg. How she would make me scream.
The phone startled me back to the present. It was John. No one else ever called
on this line. I would have to think fast. "Hi hon, how do you feel, that's good,
your downstairs watching the game, no nothings wrong". He was becoming
suspicious. I would have to come up with something fast. Offense is always the
best defense. I calculated my next comment carefully. "Oh you can talk now,
isn't your wife home". I knew from past experience this would begin an argument.
"I know I said we could talk later, but I decided to go out for awhile". At this
point I knew he was getting pissed off. After a few more words back and forth he
hung up on me as usual. He must think I'm a real bitch, if he only knew the real
reason. Time was
standing still. I wished I was able to tell John the trouble I was in, but knew
I could not. I prayed he never find out. It was becoming increasingly difficult
to come up with valid excuses. My time was growing scarce. The Winstons were
finding more tasks for me, and I needed time to recuperate from my ordeals. So
far the physical healing was a little easier than the mental healing. I was able
to blame a lot on job pressures. I complained of being tired and not feeling
well. I used every excuse I could think of. Bad stomach, headaches, bad periods,
fatigue, boredom, alone too much, executive burn out, I used them all. I was not
proud of myself for what I was doing but it was better than the truth.
I got a fresh cup of tea and went back into the bedroom. Again I tried to close
my eyes and get some rest but the thoughts kept coming back. My thoughts drifted
to the day Mrs. Winston came into the office accompanied by her maid Goldie.
This was not at all unusual and at first I did not give it a second thought. I
tried to keep the arrival as normal as possible for the sake of all the others
in the office. As I greeted them both I immediately noticed the difference in
Goldie. I had seen and spoke to her many times during the years I worked for Mr.
Winston. She had always been very warm and friendly and I even thought of her as
somewhat of a friend. But now she was different. She always reminded me a little
of Oprah, big and jolly, warm friendly smile. Now she just gave me a cold,
knowing stare. As I glanced up at her I caught that familiar look, she seemed to
be undressing me with her eyes. Could she be part of this too, I would soon find
out. I called Mr. Winston on the intercom and
announced his wives arrival. He told me to let her in and also come in myself.
Goldie followed. Once in his office and away from the rest of the staff their
attitude changed. Again I was only their slave. Mrs. Winston was brief and to
the point. I was told that after work I was to go with her and Goldie for my
first physical. Mrs. Winston told me she had made an appointment with her
gynecologist for my first exam. I went into a state of shock. Was the time for
the so called parties here. I did not know what to say or do. The first thing
that came to mind was to tell Mrs. Winston that I had my own Dr. and would be
more comfortable with him. I said I would go to him and give her a full report
on anything she wanted. I was reminded of some obscure paragraph in the contract
I had signed. Submit to physical testing at a Dr. of the Winstons choice. They
had me more than I realized. I had no choice but to obey. After thinking a
second the only reply I had was "yes mam". My reply brought an instant smile to
both Mr. and Mrs. Winston. She looked at me with that look I was becoming more
familiar with and said "good bitch, your learning, now go with Goldie and she
will help you get ready. "Oh, and one more thing, do whatever she tells you to,
you are her slave as well as ours". Her words ripped through me like a hot
knife. I was mortified. Goldies slave too. I protested loudly. "I did not agree
to any such thing". As if ready for me Mr. Winston took a copy of my contract
from a locked file. He quickly read a clause that stated, I could be given to
anyone at their direction to be used as a slave in any way they saw fit. After
he read it he handed it to me and pointed to the clause and my signature. They
had me again. Here I was not only the plaything of the Winstons and whom ever
else, but also Goldie, a black maid.

Continued in,
A Year of Slavery # 1-2