Slavery Games Ch.

01: Coaching
byPandaPensif©

The Chief Editor decided I should investigate Slavery Games. This is the result. I
suggest not to let children read this article, and those of you, dear readers, that
are against the new slavery laws should read the "How to brew my own beer"
article in this edition of our newspaper, instead of this one.

First off, I met Patrick Saint Andrew, the Slavery Games CEO.

"Hi, Mister Saint Andrew, could you explain to us what Slavery Games Ltd (SGL)
is?"

"Err, Bridgett, can I call you Bridgett?"

"Well, I suppose you can."

"You can call me Patrick. Well, Bridgett, I would begin by explaining what SGL is
not; if you permit it. SGL is not a Registered Slaver company."

"That means you cannot enslave people?"

"Well I don't like the 'enslave' word, but that's the idea. The Registered Slaver
companies (RSCs) are the only ones the authorities allow to make a slave out of
somebody. And we are not one of them. We work for them. Our job is to make
volunteer-slavery popular."

"Perhaps we should explain the difference between 'volunteer' and 'legal'

slavery, Mister Saint Andrew, shouldn't we?"

"Of course, and please call me Patrick. Legal slavery is when a courthouse
decides somebody would be a slave. This person is then assigned to a Registered
Slaver Company, which trains it to become a slave. It concerns homelessness
and bankruptcy, mainly. At the opposite, with volunteer slavery, the future slave
chooses its Registered Slaver Company. It chooses when it becomes a slave."

"But you cannot choose how long you will be a slave?" I interrupted.

"Not yet. I hope the law will change because most volunteers ask for it.
Nowadays, this choice is definitive."

"Why do Registered Slaver Companies want you to make volunteer-slavery

popular?"

"Oh, volunteer slaves are easier to train. Legal ones are in denial period and
fight against their training. Volunteers have passed that step."
"But why would someone volunteer to become a slave?" I asked.

"You have never wondered yourself?" Patrick launched. I recognised I blushed a

little. I'm glad temporary slavery doesn't exist otherwise our beloved Chief
Editor would have asked me to test it!

"No matter" he continued, "First of all, there are some that are about to become
legal slaves. Becoming a volunteer slave would allow them some choices that
legal slavery denies them. But there are also a lot of people for which freedom is
boredom. In fact, they would prefer to have someone else decide for them. They
would prefer not to be 'in charge'. But it is difficult to say, difficult to realize. Our
society promotes being 'in charge'. Our games allow them to play at being a
slave, and perhaps to choose to become one" Patrick explained. I was surprised
to hear this.

"They choose to become a slave, or they lose?" I asked.

"It's the same! Losing is a way to choose to become a slave without having to
say it!" I was shocked to hear that.

"The game you propose tomorrow is a crucifixion. Isn't that cruel?" I asked.

"Crucifixion has been a cruel death sentence. In our case, it is a game. First off,
a doctor will be monitoring the players throughout the game. If their life is
endangered, they are to be brought down. Second, all our gamers volunteered."
He said playfully. From his face, I could tell he was enjoying the show in
advance. Perhaps he was enjoying his benefice also.

"Do you think I could meet these people before the game?" I asked. How could
someone volunteer for such a game? If he refused my request, I would be sure
that the players did not volunteer.

"Of course, tomorrow's participants are in some of the cells below. You can meet
them now. Of course, they may be scared, but you'll see that none of them has
been forced to participate and perhaps they will convince you, or your readers,
to book for the next time!" He said in a smile.

"How many of them?"

"6, 3 men, and 3 women. The games will be played simultaneously, but each
gender is a category in itself." He began. I looked at him for more information.

"The first of each gender to be brought down will be a slave, the last of each
gender will be the winner and will get 10% off the slave sales." He smiled.
"Is that enough compared to the risk of becoming a slave?" I asked.

"But they are not here for the money. They want the thrill of having to fight.
They want the risk of becoming a slave." He explained. I shivered at that
thought. I found it exciting for the first time. I thought again 'losing is a way to
become a slave without having to ask for it.'

"Technically they are not slaves already. But they are locked to feel like they
were" He explained.

"And imagine tomorrow when they will be led to the place naked" He continued.
I thought of myself being forced to walk naked in a crowd. I crossed my legs. I
had to concentrate on this article!

"What happens to the middle person, the second to be brought down?" I asked.

"It depends on the delay between the people being brought down. You
understand, otherwise once the first one would have given up, the others would
have followed." He explained. I thought about the misery of waiting on the
cross, to avoid being enslaved.

"What about meeting the participant girls?" I asked.

"Here we go!" he said, "Do you want to stay alone with each of them?"

I couldn't hope for such a proposition, and as we were walking down the stairs I
asked: "What will you do with the collar? It has to be engraved with the slaves
name and number?"

"The collars the slaves will be fitted with will be fake ones, they will get their
true ones after the show is over." he explained.

"It will be the new ones, one-inch wide steel band. They are to be welded around
the slave's neck and have a nearly impossible to cut inside-frame. The only way
to cut them is with a saw, but the steel temperature wouldn't be bearable. They
also have RFID that station and airport would scan to find any escaped slaves,"
he explained. I have seen these collars, and I could say they are impressive, but
I haven't worn one myself, and I'm glad for it.

"Here is Stephanie's cell!" he announced.

The cell itself seemed antiquated and the naked girl looked frightened inside it.
As the door opened, she used her hand to shield her breast and pubic area. She
was a little brunette with copper skin.
"Hi, I'm Bridgett, I'm a journalist, may I speak with you?" I asked. The girl was
embarrassed I noticed.

"I suppose you may... I'm Stephanie" she said with her head bowed.

"How old are you Stephanie" she was so little and thin, I gave her 16 at most.

"I just turned 18, we waited for me to reach 18 to participate in one of SGL's
games," she said blushing.

"Who is the 'we'?" I asked.

"Brittany and I, we made a bet to participate in this... game," she explained.

"But, you're conscious that one or perhaps both of you could be enslaved?"

"Yes! I'm so frightened... I would feel guilty if Brittany ended up as a slave," she
said.

"You think you can handle the game?" I asked. I wondered how such a thin girl
would be able to last on a cross.

"I think I could endure heat and sun. I'm not muscular, but I'm not fat," she
justified.

I was in fear for the girl. But I couldn't say she would lose if I hadn't met her
concurrent yet.

The next girl I met was Brittany. When her cell door opened, she was laying on
her mattress. When she heard the door opening, she stood up and hid her
breasts and pussy. She was uneasy but far less than Stephanie. Compared to
Stephanie she was bigger and taller. She was blonde and her skin was milky
white.

"Hi, I'm Bridgett, I'm a journalist, may I speak with you?" I asked. I saw
Brittany relaxed.

"Of course. You wanted to know why I subscribed to this?" She replied. I smiled.

"You made a bet?" I tried.

"You already met Stephanie? Yes, I made a bet. She proposed it, I agreed and
tomorrow she will be a slave!" she laughed.
"You're sure you will win?" I asked.

"Not at all! It will depend on who's the third one. I'm sure I can beat Stephanie.
I trained with my coach making long running sessions. It's just my skin, I'll get
sunburned, for sure!" She explained. I felt some fear at the end of her sentence,
but Brittany seemed sure of herself.

"And what if you finished as a slave?" I asked.

"If I'm not able to beat Stephanie I would deserve it. I know I'm taking risks,
otherwise, there would be no thrill!" She said smiling a forced smile.

She almost frightened me. Neither of them were conscious that they could
become slaves for life. I then continued onto the third cell.

The woman in there was in her thirties and wore a string belt to which her hands
were tied.

"Oh, Hi, I'm sorry, I can hardly move." said the woman.

"Ho... Why are you tied this way?" I asked. She looked at me and seemed
uneasy.

"Oh... I asked for it, don't worry it's not an error. The purpose is to feel like a
slave. So, I asked for it." she justified.

"Well, I was just surprised, as the other contestants were not tied..." I
apologized.

"Why, were you coming to?" she asked. She looked confident, but in her voice, I
felt fear.

"Oh! I'm a Journalist, Bridgett!".

"I'm Alejandra, I subscribed to this craziness," she said shrugging her shoulders.

"Why did you subscribe, for the money?" I asked.

"Of course not, for the feeling of being a slave for a few hours, for the fear to
become one permanently. I know I'm kind of mad, but at least I'm not
dangerous for the others," she laughed.

"And you're not afraid of becoming a slave?" I asked.

"I'm really scared... but it's what I want... being scared. Not becoming a slave!"
She said blushing.

"How did you prepare?" I asked. I found her more interesting than the others
that seemed too young and immature.

"I keep myself fit, and I didn't want to prepare, like if I had been sentenced...
I'm sorry I'm in my own fantasy." She recognized. I began to like her fantasy.

"Do you think you can win, tomorrow?" I asked.

"Well, I have no idea. That's the thrill!" she replied and I saw how excited she
was. I must recognise it was infectious.

"And you are ready to become a slave?" I continued.

"Of course not, but if it happens I hope I would be able to be a good player.
When you lose you have to pay the price, it's not like we had not been informed.
I just fear... You know... Being on the cross will be exhausting, and doing it and
losing to become a slave, and being humiliated, and being collared in front of the
people there... It can be... too much..." she explained. What marked me was
how she rubbed her thighs together while explaining that. I think I was
beginning to understand what Patrick Saint Andrew explained. Alejandra wanted
to touch slavery, perhaps she wanted to become a slave without having to ask
for it.

"You did not train, but do you have a coach?" I asked.

"Oh no, I'm my own coach you know. I was afraid my coach would bring me
down too early, to have me enslaved!" she reacted.

"You're not serious, why would he do that? If you're enslaved, the coach has to
participate in the next session!" I explained.

"I didn't know..." she began

"And if you're your own coach you will be brought down at your first asking. If
you have a coach, you could discuss with him..." I explained further.

"But... it's too late, who will I ask to be my coach?" she wondered. I thought to
myself, if I was her coach it would give me a special view of the contest. I was
feeling something for Alejandra.

"Do you want me to ask Mister Saint-Andrew if I can be your coach?" I

proposed. She took some time looking at me before replying.
"I don't know, I don't know you... But I suppose it is best I got someone..." she
rambled.

A few minutes later Patrick joined us.

"I cannot say it is regular, but nothing forbids it. I suggest you decide a code for
Alejandra to tell you 'I really need to finish this now!' so when she will say I
want to be down, you will know it's difficult, but not that unbearable that she is
ready to become a slave" he said while laughing.

"It seems to me a good idea," I added.

"Spirit, I will say spirit," Alejandra said. "3 times, spirit repeated 3 times," I
insured.

"Yeah... spirit, spirit, spirit..." she said. It seemed to give her some reasurance.

"I want both of you to know that it is the coach's opinion that is the rule. Do you
agree on that, Alejandra?" Patrick asked. I saw how she clamped her legs. "I
agree," she declared.

After Patrick left, she looked at me, and said: "It makes you my mistress for the
time being...until I'm brought down from my cross" I saw she had goose bumps.

"Is there something you need..." I laughed, and then I realized how wrong I
was. She did not intend for me to be responsible for her. She meant she was
about to service me! Once the surprise passed I felt a sensation of power over
her. Is that what every Dom felt toward their slaves? I don't know.

"You like to feel like a slave?" I asked.

She blushed and did not dare to look at me.

"I do mistress... Sometimes I would dream of being a sex slave that has to ... to
satisfy her masters," she explained. I saw she was uneasy and excited. She
clamped her thighs one against the other. I wasn't sure what she meant.

"You mean sexually?" I asked for confirmation.

"Yes mistress!" she replied. Her face was red in embarrassment.

"Are you bisexual or homosexual?" I asked unbelievingly.

"Not that I know... but ... would you like to try ... I mean... me servicing you!"
she continued while her cheeks were becoming red.
I thought I was straight heterosexual, but at that moment, I doubted. I was so
excited. The slavery, the crucifixion, and finally Alejandra's proposition: I needed
a release!

I pulled my skirt up, while looking at her, her wrists still locked to her belt. "Just
do it!" I ordered. She kneeled, and I saw it wasn't easy without using your
hands, then she came towards me. She was uneasy, I saw. She didn't know
what to do. So was I. She kissed my underwear. I was sorry not to have a penis
she would have sucked but felt the power I had over her. I wanted to shout
orders and orders at her. I contained myself, to give her some time. After
kissing just over where my clit is below my panties she began to rub her cheeks
onto my pubis. It felt good. Then she looked at me and tried to get the
waistband with her teeth. Such a thing is easy in porn stories, but here she was
unable to do it.

I helped her in lowering the waistband, and she took the opportunity to get it in
her mouth and lower it even more. Again, it wasn't that easy. I liked to see her
trying to reach it. Eventually, she went to my pussy. I spread my legs for her
and her tongue went between my floods. I moaned in pleasure, and I heard her
moan in return. Then her tongue ran up and licked my clitoris. I could not
suppress a "yes!". Then she continued to turn and to vacuum my clitoris, so I
quickly reached an orgasm. I felt I owed her something.

"Thank you, Mistress, to let your slave service you," she said while staying
kneeled in front of me. I hesitated. On one hand, I thought I should make her
cum in return, on the other hand, she was in her slave fantasy, so I should be a
cruel mistress and not let her cum until the next day. I wish I knew what she
was thinking of. Once again, I thought of wanting to become a slave and not
wanting to ask for it. I thought she wanted me to forbid her to cum, but she
wouldn't be able to ask for it. Then I thought of the next day. I thought of the
trial she would go through the next day. If she became a slave, I would be in her
place awaiting the same trial. It was not in my best interest if she could not rest.

"You do not deserve it, slave. But you need to rest this night. So I knelt down
next to her, and I turned her over, and let my hand reach her pussy. My god,
how wet she was! I did not need to stroke her clitoris for very long before I saw
the signs of an orgasm.

I don't know how the girls' night was but mine was haunted by antiquated
images of crucifixion and sex melded together.

The place was closed, and a ticket was required to enter the event. Despite it
being only 10:00 AM, many people were there to see the six people struggling
on their crosses. I chose a black leather skirt to be Alejandra's coach. All of the
coaches were waiting next to the main door that would open to let the
'condemned' enter the 'arena'. On the soil were six beams, and on the other side
of the place there were the six pillars. Three on one side, three on the other.
And, between the pillars were the stocks in which the losers would wait for the
winners to finish their time on their cross.

"You've thought of everything!" I said to Patrick.

"No, I haven't but I have a clever team around me!" he replied as the main
doors opened and the lorry went in. The back door opened, and they were there,
sitting on benches with guards between them.

I thought the guards would be dressed as Roman soldiers, but no they weren't.
Patrick's team chose a sober black outfit. The spectacle was not the guards, but
the naked people they were escorting.

I realized at that moment that I had not visited the men. One was a muscular
black athlete. The second was a blond thin white man, with some beard. He
wasn't as impressive as the black one. The last one seemed to be a Latino. He
was not big but a little fat. Perhaps I should have spent more time on the other
side of the jail I thought.

Of course, the six of them were naked, and none of them was easy with that!
Like the other coaches, I went to them. They had their hands cuffed in front of
them and getting down from the truck required some help.

"Oh my god, it's about to happen!" is all Alejandra succeeded in saying.

Then two guards surrounded each of them, and their wrists were uncuffed. They
had no time to notice that two other guards put a beam on the shoulders of each
of them. The synchronicity of the process was hard to believe. So quickly were
their wrists tied to the beam.

Whips were produced, but as soon as they heard that sound the prisoners began
to walk around the place. They might have been prepared, as the men went on
one side and the women on the other. Each group of three went along the
border of the place, just in front of the crowd. The beams were heavy and their
steps laboured. I looked at them. Some of them peered at the pillars. The others
ignored them or tried to. It was the pillars they would hang from in a few
minutes. There was some stress in the air.

'It's about to happen' I thought. 'Some of them will be slaves once we leave this
place' I also thought. I swallowed, because if Alejandra was a slave by then, I
would have to walk along this place with a beam on my shoulders. How would it
feel to be exposed, naked like that I kept on wondering. Like the previous day, I
felt a nice heat in my crotch.

The two groups crossed at the opposite side of the place and went by the pillars
again, turning around them. The guards stopped the prisoners and helped them
to stand back towards a pillar. Ropes dangling from the top of the pillars were
tied to the end of the beams. The guards pulled on them, and the beams raised.
The guards pulled again, all of them at once, and the beams raised again, but
this time, the condemners' feet left the soil. Some moans of pain were heard.
The guards pulled again. The feet were trying to find a support on the slick
pillars. One more pulling and another pair of guards came to each pillar and
caught the feet to tie them to the pillars. They tied the ankle's, so the legs were
bent and spread. Each of them was displayed and had no way to hide his or her
genitals. It must be so humiliating I thought. The guards were fixing the beams
to the pillars now. With the other coaches, I went to support my crucified.

As I approached the pillar, I noticed holes on it. The guards were behind the
pillar, then one held Alejandra by the cheeks and the other pushed something
through one of the holes below her crotch. It went out on the side she was
hanging and it was bent upward. A kind of dildo was right between her thighs.
When the former guard let her cheeks drop Alejandra's crotch felt onto it. She
moved and tried to find a way to thread it in her sex, but the end of the dildo
was too short. The only way was for her to let it impale her anus. She struggled
to avoid it. She tried again to get it in her pussy, but it was not possible, and
from all the moaning all around the place, all of them were facing the same
dilemma!

One of the guards gave me a bottle of lube. I immediately understood and

applied some onto the false penis and some onto her anus. She groaned and
seemed to understand as she put her little opening onto the tip. I looked at her
as she slowly let herself become impaled on it. I saw the muscular contraction in
her legs, and I imagined the battle she was fighting. I had a look around, and all
of them were in the same state of slowly opening their arses onto the dildos,
grunting and moaning at the same time. The men marked me. Their sexes were
in erection. It was obvious; I couldn't look at anything else! Eventually, I turned
back and was in front of Alejandra's opened pussy with the dildo half buried in
her ass. The smell was revealing, and her folds were shiny! Was I as wet as she
was? Well, I wouldn't have to bet!

The synchronism at the beginning of the show was slowly lost as each of them
developed their own rhythm. They were pushing on their legs trying not to be
impaled onto the dildos, but the most upright position they could reach did not
permit them to have their legs straight, so they tired and they slowly relaxed
and impaled themselves. Up to the moment when the dildo was too deep, and
they pushed again. It must be exhausting I thought. Alejandra's body was
covered in sweat from the effort. Each time she let herself be impaled deeper. I
could only imagine how helpless she must feel. I imagined her horny and
humiliated being displayed and fucked in the ass in public. I was in need to rub
my thighs together!

After some time, she was fully seated on the dildo, but she continued her
routine. Was she trying to fuck the dildo, it was so slow. However, I was wrong
from the beginning. I needed more observation to understand. While sat on the
dildo, they hanged from their wrists, and their breathing was difficult. They
needed to get upright to breathe! But it was so exhausting that they couldn't
keep that position too long so they fell down, and impaled themselves. It was so
efficient!

I wanted to speak to Alejandra, but I understood speaking would be very difficult

for her. I looked at her. There were tears in her eyes. Her muscles were drawn
on her body. She was making a performance, I realized.

Twenty minutes had passed. Already their routines were more difficult. It was
evident; some of them had difficulties pushing on their feet to breathe.
Brittany's movements were very difficult. On the other side, the black man was
also in difficulties. I was surprised, they were not the ones I thought would end
the first ones. I decided Alejandra needed my help. I took a bottle of water and
asked her to shake her head if she wanted some water. Her reply was clearly
yes. I gave her some water, little by little, a sip at each cycle. When it was
finished, I saw that all the coaches were doing the same!

The 30 minutes limit hadn't passed when Stephanie shouted. Her babblings were
unintelligible, but it was clear something was odd with her left leg. She used her
right only, so when she pushed her movements were going on the left and were
pulling on one arm. It was very difficult before, she was in real pain now!

"She has a cramp in her right leg," said Brittany's coach. She may have been
right. I looked at Brittany. The girl's agony from ten minutes ago seemed to
have passed, or more exactly her state was stabilized while Stephanie's and
Alejandra's had degraded.

Stephanie's Coach tried to massage her thigh. Was it effective? I'm not sure.
The white man was the second one to get cramps. Alejandra and the black man
followed. I was anxious. I saw some drinks and gave them to Alejandra.

"I want to... "she began before falling onto the dildo, "...get down..." she
continued on her next cycle.

"I understand Alejandra, all of you are getting the same pain, carry on!" I
encouraged her as if she had any choice.
Most of the crucified had cramps, and Alejandra was one of them. They were in
great pain, and I suspected that the doctor would order to bring them down
soon. So, Alejandra would become a slave and I would have to experience the
cross. At first, I thought of her fighting her anal impalement. To be more exact
she fought to control the speed of this unavoidable anal impalement. I never
tried anal before, but I was quite excited at the idea. Once again, I clamped my
legs and thought about Alejandra. She was miserable on her cross, how could I
envy her! I looked at her and the sex smell that came from her sex was
unmistakable. She was miserable and horny, but from the way she was tied,
clamping her legs was out of the question for her.

I thought of the coverage I made a few weeks ago about childbirth. It was Anna.
She was pregnant, and the contractions were so painful for her. I reminded her
face each time the contractions came. It was too late for an epidural
anaesthesia. Then the obstetrician came and explained:

"You can have a natural way to ease the pain, but lots of people would find it
shocking. Do you want to try it?" he asked. Of course, Anna accepted, but when
the man explained she had to caress her clitoris she objected:

"What is this method? You pervert you want me to masturbate in front of all of
you!" she was angry. I understood that masturbating in front of the staff
wouldn't be easy.

With time, the contraction's power increased and the pain she felt followed. Then
I saw her hand crawl between her legs. Legs that she closed to get some
intimacy. The midwife noted it and turned her back not to see her. I couldn't
imitate her, and my eyes were on the wrist that dipped between her thighs. The
hand speed was slow at first. But with each contraction, it increased. I wished I
could imitate her. But as her delivery approached, her horniness increased, and I
think she orgasmed while giving birth.

We all have that natural painkiller. Anna was able to do it by herself, Alejandra
wasn't. I approached her. I never did it with a female I thought at first. Of
course, I did! I did it yesterday when Alejandra ate me. I knew what I had to do.
I thought of the intimacy of the cell. I thought of the intimacy Anna had. I
looked around at the crowd that were enjoying the spectacle. They would get
something for their money. I approached Alejandra's crotch. Even if I had had
sex with a woman the preceding evening. It was a first for me.

The first time I thought about homosexuality I was disgusted. From my teens, I
learnt to accept homosexuals. I had no difficulties with men. They weren't
attracted to me, so there was no problem. My difficulty was toward women.
They might be trying to seduce me. How was I supposed to react? These two
times were different. First for all, yesterday was not about "love making", it was
to establish my authority as a mistress on her slave. This time it was curing
Alejandra of her pain. So, I approached with my nose and mouth to her opened
and wet sex.

Alejandra's scents were strong. There was her wet sex, but also her sweat
because riding a cross is an exhausting exercise. I began to kiss just the pubic
area just over her slit. It was what she did the day before. Before I removed my
underwear, she kissed me there, I reminded myself. Immediately I felt the
effects. Alejandra froze in surprise, and the crowd cheered. I suppose the show
was only her and I at that moment. I took advantage of Alejandra's immobility
and touched her clitoris from the tip of my tongue and she emitted a small
noise, a nice noise of astonishment.

I went lower and began to lick along her slit. I collected her mixed juices on her
lips. She emitted a kind of gurgling and I felt her pushing up on her legs. I felt
the stress in her legs for her to rise. I looked up and saw how she was pulling on
her arms. She had to pay for each movement. I admired her for that.

"Don't!" she said and fell down, impaling herself harshly on the dildo while
sighing.

"You need this to fight the pain of the cramps..."She looked at me like I were an
alien. Then I thought she was right. Sex could tire her.

"But don't hope to cum while on the cross" I added. And, I continued licking,
slowly getting toward her clitoris. But each time she tensed and rose to breathe,
I stopped and went back to the beginning. Little by little, I noticed she was
moving her ass right and left and was pushing on both legs to stand. I looked at
her: "Still cramped?" She shook her head in a way I interpreted as not so bad. I
looked around and all the other coaches were looking at me, shocked, and then
at Alejandra.

"Make me cum" Alejandra breathed before falling once again. I looked at her and
said."Not yet."

I looked again, and the other coaches were in front of their crucified crotches,
wondering if they should copy me. Brittany's coach didn't, but Brittany wasn't
cramped. Stephanie's coach didn't hesitate any more.

I looked at her head buried between the bent legs of the Hispanic girl. I saw
both girls reluctance. But I saw both continue. I began to rub one thigh against
the other as I was looking at them. I was so absorbed in the two teenagers,
spectacle that I didn't look at Alejandra. She tried to warn me, but it was too
late, she couldn't keep her urine any more, and pissed onto me.
What was amazing is Brittany pissed just after, and the white man followed. The
black man's coach was masturbating him, my god, what a cock he has!

Suddenly, Stephanie began to choke. Her movements were disorganised, and

she was not able to breathe properly. I suppose her coach stimulated her up to
her orgasm!

"Get her down" the Doctor declared, deciding on the first to become a slave.

"Spirit" Alejandra managed to say before falling once again.

"No, no, it's too dangerous!" I warned her. She looked at me with great big
eyes!

Another sound came from the men side. The black Athlete just came in his coach
mouth and was exhausted. White droplets laid all around the coach's mouth.
Unable to breathe, the black man gurgled just as Stephanie had.

"Get him down," the doctor said. I never thought he would be the first to give
up!

The game began 40 minutes ago and two of the stocks were used already. I was
so sorry for Stephanie. I looked over and saw Brittany. Her leg muscles were so
visible on her thighs. 'She is tired' I thought. I looked at Alejandra. It was not
clear to me who would win. I looked again at the stocks to realize I was looking
at two slaves now!

"Spirit!" said Alejandra. It was the second time. I was anxious, she would stop
there and Brittany would keep so long that Alejandra would become a slave. A
slave I would probably not buy because I would be awaiting my own crucifixion!
Why would I buy Alejandra? It was the first time the idea came to me. In fact, I
liked the idea of owning her.

Then Brittany shouted. She just cramped. Her coach came to her, but Brittany
shouted "Earth!" The coach stopped and asked to have her down.

I approached Alejandra. "Could you take 3 minutes more, just 3 minutes" She
looked at me without understanding.

"Get him down," the doctor said. I turned to see the white man being brought
down his cross.

"Please," Alejandra begged. I looked around. Brittany was in a stock already and
she was looking at both of us anxiously. Would she become a slave? It was in
my hands, and I wanted her to have a lesson after what she did to Stephanie.
The Hispanic man was still on his cross.

"Spirit" Alejandra begged for the third time.

I was pissed off and thought about waiting the few missing minutes to make a
slave of Brittany.

"Take her down," I said. Brittany would not become a slave, but I would be true
to my word toward Alejandra.

"It's a winner" a man exclaimed a few minutes later, and, the last crucified was
brought down.

Alejandra had been wrapped in a towel and sat on the soil. She was drinking an
energy drink.

Brittany was not far and in the same situation. So was the Hispanic man.

The three others were in the stocks. They were given their drink with a straw.
They were naked and displayed to everyone.

It took about half an hour for the platform to be ready. Jose, the Hispanic Man,
Alejandra, and Brittany were on the left, wearing gowns. On the other side of
Patrick Saint-Andrew were Stephanie, and the two men surrounded by guards.
Stephanie was brought naked in front of the organizer. The guard that held her
right hand gave her knee stroke just at the back of her knee and she collapsed
in a kneeling position. She cried. Patrick took a collar and came to her.

"Stephanie you failed, so from now on you will be a slave" I was surprised the
girl did not react at first. It's when she saw the collar that she truly understood
what was happening.

"No, please, don't!" she protested and shook her head. One of the guards took
her hair and all her struggles were futile, the fake collar was locked around her
neck. She collapsed on the floor and cried.

The black man was taken to Patrick. He might have understood what to do
because he kneeled in front of the organizer. I saw he muttered something.

"You felt betrayed by your coach, but the result is the same!" Patrick said. The
man let him lock the collar around his neck.

When the guard tried to lead the white man, he shouted:

"It's a plot, I didn't fail, I've been brought down too early, it's the doctor that...
Ouch!" A cattle prod had been used and he was barely conscious. The guard had
to hold him for Patrick to put his collar on.

"Every game has its losers and its winners," Patrick said. Stephanie was still
crying, and the black man had wet eyes. On the other side, the winners were
exhausted.

A girl came to me:

"Would you accept to be my coach, please?" She asked. I realised she was
Stephanie's coach and was to be crucified in a week. I did not really think and
accepted.

It was later in the evening and I was sharing a bath with Alejandra. We were
wondering if we should go to the slave sale the following day when she asked:

"Next week, if the girl finishes as a slave, would you like me to be your coach?"

The thought made me shiver. She was right, I would have to ride a cross two
weeks later if the girl loses.

"I fear the cramps!" I said blushing.

"I think I've understood your method," Alejandra laughed coming to me.

"And... how does the dildo feel?" I asked anxiously.

"I did await this one. At first, I had some difficulties understanding and accepting
where it was to go. At first, I fought it, and it was painful. When I began to
accept it, well..." she began blushing.

"...It was not so bad, I would have just preferred it to go in slower. Do you want
to experiment?" she asked.

I thought of her proposal.

"I think I have to discover it on the cross!" I said.

"So it's decided, no matter what happens to the girl, you'll go on the cross?" she
asked.

I didn't reply, I kissed my lover, and we made love all night long.
Slavery Games Ch. 02: Slaves
byPandaPensif©

Here is a new article by Bridgett. This week our reporter investigated slavery.
This article is not intended for children. If you are an opponent of Slavery law,
you should skip it.

Last week I was investigating the new show Slavery Games proposed, and I
ended up as Alejandra's coach. This week Alejandra and I decided to investigate
what happens when the show is over, and the day following the show we met
Patrick Saint-Andrew (PSA), the Slavery Games Limited (SGL) CEO.

"Hello, Patrick! I'm back to learn what happens once the curtain falls and the
show is over."

"Of course, Bridgett. I understand your curiosity and I'll do my best to make you
discover SGL from the inside, but you'll understand that we keep some secrets,"
he replied with a broad smile.

"But first, I would like to congratulate our winner of last time, Alejandra! By the
way, can you tell us if you think SGL is fair to the participants in our game? I
mean, being crucified is certainly very difficult, but how did you experience the
relationship with our employees in this context?" He added before I could answer
him.

"Uh... Well... I... I have no reason to complain," Alejandra was obviously

embarrassed by the question.

"I'm really happy to see your smile. Let's talk about losers now. There are three
of them: Bill, Andrew and Stephanie. "

"By the way, one of them felt that he had been betrayed by his coach. Does this
have an impact on Slavery Games?" I cut in going on the attack.

"Well, not at all! We're talking about Andrew. I understand his disappointment
and even his anger. However, Alejandra will confirm that choosing a coach is a
delicate matter. It is entirely the responsibility of the player," he replied, looking
nervous.

"By the way, Bridgett, you're going to be back on the job as a coach, from what
I have heard?" he said, changing the subject.

"Indeed, Lana, Stephanie's coach asked me to train her for the next show."
"Really, I wish you both the best of luck. And I'm delighted to see that you
intend to coach at each of our shows until you decide to participate on your
own," he joked.

"Thank you, I must admit I'm quite stressed, but I really want her to succeed," I
replied, embarrassed by his teasing.

"Of course! As for our new slaves, they are in the cells below where they've been
since the end of the last show. Their collars were replaced this morning by the
final models," he explained.

"Will they be trained? Normally, this is the case before being sold, isn't it?"
Alejandra asked.

"Oh, it's not SG that manages that part, you know that. We have a partner who
is a slaver company. They decided that since these slaves were volunteers,
training would not be mandatory. The auctions will take place this afternoon,"
said Patrick, looking like he wasn't interested.

"In fact, it is in your interest to put them on sale as soon as possible after the
end of the show. As long as they are known, is that it?" I asked.

"Oh, SG has no interest in that. We are paid a fixed price for each slave sold.
This does not depend on the price they will reach at the auction. On the other
hand, I agree with you, being known gives an obvious added value," he
acknowledged.

"But on the other hand, they're not broken yet. Think about Andrew. He's a
mountain of muscle. Do you think you'd be able to manage him?"

"A trained slave is more expensive?" I queried.

"Of course, it's an added value! Moreover, our partner puts a reserve price on
the slaves sold here. If they do not reach this price, they sell them later," he
explained.

"Do you break them here?" Alejandra asked.

"No, not at all! Our partner is in charge of this process. They have a
center where they will train the unsold slaves," he said.

"And who is this partner?" I asked.

"I am not required to disclose this."

"You said that Andrew could be dangerous to his owner because he hasn't been
trained yet. Would you say the same for Bill and Stephanie?" Alejandra asked.

"Don't make me say what I didn't say! Andrew is not dangerous. It's more that
not all owners want to or are able to train a slave. You can buy your slave today
and then train them yourself or have them trained as you like. There are many
companies that will train slaves to different standards, " Patrick explained.

"And so, Bill and Stephanie?" I was reframing.

"It's the same thing. Stephanie seems accessible to a beginner. Why don't you
try it?" he suggested.

"DIY slaves, in short," I summarized.

"Yes, why not?" he laughed.

"Can we meet them now?" I asked.

"If you see them before the sale, you won't be able to participate," he said
looking at us.

"That suits me perfectly," I said ending the conversation so Patrick would lead us
to the basement.

"What are you doing here?" Stephanie shouted when she saw us in her cell.

She was distraught. No matter how I explained to her, that we were coming to
get her to give us her feelings about the game and on SGL she wouldn't listen.

She kept shouting, "You were a team from the beginning, right? You've both
come to make fun of me! Well, look at the result. I'm no longer free. I am an
animal that is whipped to make it obey. I don't even have any clothes anymore.
I'm going to be sold, because of you! Get out! Get out of my cell now!"

Such a rude slave should be punished but I just felt sorry for her, so we left.

"She's crazy, isn't she? It was on the doctor's orders that she was taken down
from her cross, wasn't it?" Alejandra asked. Of course, my friend was not
present when I visited each of the participants in the game. It was only after
that that I became her coach so it was reasonable that Stephanie could honestly
believe that I had come to torment her.

"She's not crazy, she's angry. It's hard to become a slave. There are the steps of
acceptance. First the shock of the change in her situation, her emotions are off
the scale at the moment also.

Then there is the denial 'this is not true, something will happen'. The
replacement of the initial collar by the final one completes this step. Then there
is anger. Why her? Why her? She's looking for people to blame, and you arrived
at that moment," said a quite attractive man behind us. He must have been in
his forties and had brown hair strewn with grey. He looked at us calmly.

"John, slave attendant," he said introducing himself.

"Bridgett, journalist," I said.

"Alejandra, I won the last show," Alejandra added.

"Congratulations," he said. "I very much enjoyed your performance."

"I thought there was no training before the sale?" queried Alejandra.

"You can't call it training. They're all just being given the basics. They need to be
calm at the time of the sale," he said as an expert.

"But she was whipped?" queried my friend.

"A little, yes but not seriously, believe me. Since this morning, however, she's
been very emotional and rebelling a little."

"Can we see the men now?"

"Of course. Would you like me to accompany you?" he asked.

"I'm afraid they'll be less natural if you're there," I objected, declining his
request.

"Of course. Do you only want to meet the slaves from the last show?"

"Because there are others?"

"Of course! We have trained slaves, and we are taking this opportunity to sell
them. Here is Cathy, a German. While you meet her, I will prepare Andrew."

"Cathy, some journalists have come to see you. You are allowed to say 'I' with
them'," he said casually to the naked young woman sitting on the mattress.

Alejandra and I met Cathy, a German girl who chose volunteer slavery when she
became penniless. She knew she would become a slave so decided she would at
least choose her slaver company so she had some influence over her training.
She explained that being a volunteer slave is anything but easy. She was still
shocked by her training and the way she had been conditioned to obey every
order.

Cathy had been very naïve about slavery. She thought it would be easy for a
sexually active and open-minded girl like her. She went by herself to the training
centre. She explained to us how difficult it was when she was told to disrobe in
front of the hostess and the two male trainers. She was ashamed. "Slaves must
have no modesty," they said. She knew it but hoped she would have been
broken in more gently and gradually. As soon as she was naked, they gave her a
collar. She took it between her hands and raised it to her neck. As she did so she
was having second thoughts. She stopped as the collar was inches front her
head and was soon crying as a leather whip bit into her cheek.

"Close it now!" she was ordered and when the collar reached its destination a
hand roughly closed it shut with a padlock. She cried a lot at this point as she
began to realize what she'd done. She would have needed a few minutes more
to accept it but her emotions were not the concern of the slavers. As she was
wiping her tears, her hands were taken and cuffed behind her back. She spent
the next hour in a cell.

Then this girl that continued calling us "Mistresses" explained that the main
purpose of her training is to teach the slave that she is nothing. She needed
more time to acknowledge the collar she had been given. From now on, nothing
she wanted is of any importance. There were tears in her eyes.

She loved sex she explained. But she never had any anal experience. She had
been asked to impale herself on a guard's cock. She refused and she tried to
explain she needed to be taught to do it. She needed to have it be done slowly.
But the trainers cuffed her hand to a suspended hook in the ceiling. She hung
there on her tiptoes. She was in fear at what they would do to her. I must say I
was horrified at the picture she painted. Without explanation, she felt the whip
bite her back. Once, twice. Then it stopped.

"When you're whipped you have to count the blows, cunt!" the trainer said. She
had to count beginning at one. Neither of the previous two strokes counted.

Alejandra and I were shocked by this brutality. Neither of us thought we would

be able to take such a punishment.

"Oh whippings are not the worst, you know. It's very exciting when you are used
to it!" the slave girl said. She seemed happy to shock us.

She then explained that scat had been her hard limit with partners. She never
thought she would have to eat shit before becoming a slave. So, when she had
been asked to do it, she had refused. Of course, she thought she would be
whipped. They led her to a basement, and she was made to sit on a wooden
plank. Her wrists and ankles were tied behind her back, so her whole weight was
supported by her genitals. "It hurt so much" she explained, and you could see
that even the memory of the pain was difficult for her.

She begged, but the trainers waited. She was in tears and desperate beyond
words. Making the pain stop was the only thing she could think of.

She begged them to stop the punishment. But they took their time. They wanted
her to beg them to let her eat shit. She was upset, but knew she had no other
choice, and did it. She begged for all she was worth.

"You're not convincing enough," the trainer said and let her squirm on the
wooden horse.

The next time she tried to be more convincing, but now they wanted her to ask
to only eat shit for several days. She couldn't look us in the eyes as she begged
for what they wanted.

Alejandra and I looked at each other in shock at what Cathy told us and yet I
could see that we were both as excited as horrified.

"Are you ready to see Andrew and Bill?" John asked as we came out.

A minute later, we entered Bill's cell. The young man was prostrated against a
wall, naked.

"Hi Bill, I came to ask how you are feeling after the game?" I said, but I didn't
think I'd trigger such anger as with Stephanie.

"No one cares about the feelings of slaves," he replied in a barely audible voice.

"We do," I insisted, and he slowly raised his head.

"Well, I feel angry, because I've been cheated. The doctor took me down from
that cross, but I could have held out longer and certainly long enough not to be
here today."

"I understand you, but he felt you were in danger."

"They said I was bleeding from my wrist." He showed his bandaged arm.

"Yes, I know. I saw it. I was there. In the rules, they insist that even small
bleeding is a reason for medical abandonment," I said leaning towards him.

"Yes, I know and now I'm going to be sold, or broken," he had tears in his eyes.
I shared his distress. At the same time, when you play such a game, you know
what the risks are.

"And what would you prefer?"

"I have no desire to be sold by auction! But they said that if I didn't sell at
auction, they'd feminize me, and I really don't want that."

"A new master will probably have plans for you?" I realized later how stupid my
question was. He looked at me and opened his thighs for me to see.

"They put my penis in a cage, that's the beginning." Indeed, a metal tube
surrounded his sex. I felt a warmth in the bottom of my stomach at the thought
of what he was deprived of. I feel guilty for not being compassionate but at the
same time it was beautiful.

When we left, John was waiting for us: "I tied Andrew up so you could see him."

In the next cell, the show was very different! The black athlete was laying on his
back, and his arms were tied to the legs of his bed, so he was in a very
uncomfortable position. His legs were also tied to the legs of the bed, so his
crotch was elevated, displayed, erect. He was shaven. And his manhood was
showing his virility. His member was both long and large. His position showed it
to its advantage. It was difficult to look at anything else. And it was a shame as
his whole body was good to look at: no fat, and not just well muscled but
beautifully defined.

"Hi I am Brigett and a reporter. We want to know your feelings about the
competition. You said you've been betrayed by your coach. Do you still think it's
the case?"

"Yes..." His position made it difficult for him to speak.

"This faggot, sucked me, until I shot my load, afterwards I was unable to hold
on to the cross." That was my understanding.

"I understand. Your... sex is beautiful you know!" I had trouble concentrating on
anything else as it was standing there, between me and Alejandra.

" Thank you, it's for sale. If you want it, it may be possible..." I found the
process elegant to find a lover.
"I saw the slaves before the auction so I'm forbidden to participate in the
auction. Can I... touch?"

"I am a slave to be used by any free person. I know my place now."

I touched the erect candy cane then I knelt down next to him. The male smell
was empowering and I just touched him with my tongue. He moved it toward
me. Alejandra knelt on his other side and closed her hand around the shaft. Half
of it arose from her hand. She licked the head and made him moan. Then she
offered it to me so I could lick him too and wrap my tongue around the head.

We played with him for some time.

"He is the slave, not us," Alejandra remarked

"What do you mean?"

"Why not... ride him?" she reddened.

I looked at her, then at him, and without hesitation pulled up my skirt and
pushed my panties down. Alejandra was smiling first then biting her lower lip.

"Can I do the same?"

"Strip naked, Alejandra, and you Andrew can you hold on and make both of us
cum before you do?"

"I'll do my best Mistress," he began to say. He acted as a slave already, and the
collar around his neck was not the sign of it.

I stepped over him and had to stand on my tiptoes to take his love stick inside
me. I just slid on it and moaned in pleasure! He was so hard and thick. He
moaned with me as he penetrated me deeply, hard and fast as instructed.
Alejandra kissed me. I pushed on my toes and turned around the big sword
buried in me. I put my hand on his muscular body and pushed to rise onto his
member and bounced up and down, again and again, moaning loudly in
pleasure.

I was so high afterwards it was not easy to get off him but I let Alejandra take
my place. She was smaller so her feet did not touch the floor, but she used her
hands on his shoulder and went on and off on him as I had been. She was so
aroused after watching me that she did not take long to reach her orgasm!

"You can cum, Andrew," I said, and I saw him close his eyes and white cream
flew from between Alejandra's legs. I really loved using that slave. I wasn't
myself.

"Thank you, Mistress!" he said.

"Thank you, Andrew," I replied kissing him.

John smiled at us when we left, our smiles were saying as much as our cries in
the cell. I was initially embarrassed but then again that is what slaves are for
isn't it?

We waited for the auction to begin and watched as the room filled. I was
surprised to see Brittany.

"Hi Brittany, how did you feel after the game?"

"I'm glad not to lose at the game, and hope my father will be able to buy
Stephanie!" She giggled.

"When I met you before the game, you were quite confident that you would beat
Stephanie. Did you hope to buy her afterwards at that time?"

"Of course!" She replied with a grin. I was shocked, but not completely surprised
by such manipulative behaviour.

It took time before the auction began.

Stephanie was the first one to be led to the stage. I was surprised at how calm
the girl was once on the stage. She didn't even react when she saw Brittany,
Alejandra or me. Perhaps she didn't recognize us as we were among the crowd
or maybe she had been drugged or was just still in such shock that she wasn't
capable of a reaction.

The starting price was $10,000, but Brittany's father immediately proposed
$25k. A man in the room said $30k. He had copper skin. Was he Stephanie's
father? Someone proposed $35k. $50k said Brittany's father. The room was
silent. It took some time. The copper-skinned man said $55k. $60k said
Brittany's father. The man had tears in his eyes and proposed $70k, to be
immediately beaten by a bid of $75k then $80k. I saw the anger on the man's
face. At $100k the bidding was finished. Brittany shouted as the hammer fell.
Stephanie was hers now. The lack of reaction from Stephanie surprised me.
Maybe she had been drugged?

I looked for the man, but he was nowhere to be found, so I was unable to
interview him.
Bill's auction was easier. The $10,000 base price was beaten at $18k. Like
Stephanie, there was no emotion on his face, which was puzzling.

There was some excitement about Andrew, and he reached $25k. Edith made
$38k. Cathy $125k. All of them displayed the same lack of reaction on the
stage: they were imperturbable.

The other thing I found interesting was the difference in price between males
and female slaves. It's clear that female slaves are higher priced than males. I
think this is an answer to politics when they say that slavery is not misogynist. It
is obvious that slavery is misogynist. Men want female slaves.

I would continue in this way. Edith made $38k and her training so far was
mostly feminization. It made her more valuable. Even Andrew was bought by a
gay couple. I thought about him. He won't be happy to be owned by "faggots".

Alejandra and I tried to meet John again to ask how the slaves were prepared
for the auction, but he was nowhere to be found once the sales were over. The
purchasers declined our offers for an interview, so we will not know what these
slaves futures will be unless reading this article, one of them decide to reply to
our questions.

The newspaper and I will investigate slavery and genders in the future but for
now let's change the subject to this week's important event: the next show!

Remember Lana? She was Stephanie's coach, and when Stephanie lost last
week, Lana was automatically one of the participants of this week's show. I met
her once during the week and I can say she was anxious. Unlike Brittany,
Stephanie or Alejandra, which were the first ones crucified in the show, Lana
saw the procedure as it was applied to her trainee. It's an understatement to say
she was afraid, and she was thinking seriously about volunteering to be a slave
rather than face crucifixion.

"I would be a slave but I would avoid the crucifixion," she declared. I must thank
Alejandra for her help.

"Participating in the show means you can avoid the slave training. What's more,
being famous makes you more valuable and one wouldn't take care of a cheap
... slave," my friend argued.

From Lana's face, I saw she wasn't truly convinced, but she did not argue
anymore. She thought for a while.

"I'll do it." She was afraid as she said it.

"I'll do it, but you won't come with me to SGL, you'll wait for me on the
crucifixion site?" she asked.

"You don't want me to be present while you will be jailed? It will last 24 hours
you know?" I warned.

"I prefer... I prefer to be alone. I know how it happens. I was with Stephanie. It
will be OK," she replied.

"Do you have a safe-word?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she didn't know what a safe-word was.

"A word to say if you really want to be brought down, whatever happens after," I
explained.

"Oh... I see... something I won't say by reflex?" she thought.

"Mine was Spirit said 3 times," Alejandra explained.

"And Brittany used Earth I think," I added.

"Stephanie and I didn't have one." She replied while thinking.

"I love pineapple on a pizza," she said.

"Err, I don't understand" I began.

"It's too long. While crucified speaking is difficult, let's say 'Pineapple-pizza',"
Alejandra suggested.

We agreed on pineapple-pizza as Lana's safe-word.

I agreed not to meet her at SGL cells and waited until the beginning of the show.

After our meeting with Lana, but before the show, we were contacted by the
Slave Office Society, which controls the use of slaves. Indeed, if slaves are
human beings deprived of their rights, they have no fewer rights than animals so
inhuman treatment is prohibited. The SOS contacted us about Stephanie. The
young slave had been admitted to the emergency room.

Bethany welcomed us: "Hello, I'm in charge of Stephanie."

The thing that surprised me was the collar that protruded from the neck of her
blouse. Bethany is a slave. She confirmed it to me immediately.
"Of course. SOS can't afford to have employees! I belong to SOS, like all the
slaves we save. When emergencies detect ill-treatment, slaves are confiscated
from their owners and given to SOS."

Bethany explained to us what had happened to Stephanie.

She hadn't recognized her new owner but in the car she had been surprised to
find herself at Brittany's side!

She was going to ask how this was done, but the blonde slapped her: "Slaves
only speak when they are given the right to! But no, I'm not a slave like you, I'm
your owner... until I get tired of you!"

Brittany tied a leash to Stephanie's collar and showed her a whip.

"We're going to have fun, both of us!" When Stephanie heard that, she would
have wanted to call for help, she would have wanted to run away. She could
only cry.

"Well, not just the two of us! I've planned a party in your honour tonight,"
Brittany said with a grin.

"Aren't you thanking me?" Brittany asked.

"Thank you, Brittany," the new slave forced herself to answer. She received a
new slap in the face.

"Mistress, to you!" reprimanded her new Mistress.

"Thank you, Mistress!" poor Stephanie managed to say between tears.

She was relieved to see the car enter the garden of a beautiful house. At least
she wouldn't have to travel around the city naked at the end of a leash.

Brittany was already waiting for her and in her room, near her bed, there was a
cage.

"I predicted you'd lose!"

Stephanie panicked.

"Please Brittany, no. We were in the same class. I'm your slave, I'll obey, but
don't make me sleep in that!"
"You're probably right... prove to me that you're ready to obey. Put these
handcuffs on, hands in front of you." The new slave did as she was commanded
as Brittany sat on her bed.

"Now come and eat my pussy, bitch!" she said, pulling up her short skirt and
then spreading her panties.

Stephanie was paralyzed by the suddenness of the request. And, after a

moment, she came to kneel before the one, who, two days earlier, was still a
classmate.

She wasn't sure what to do. She had learnt how to suck a man's cock, not take
care of a woman.

She kissed the waxed pubic area of her mistress. The smell made her nauseous:
she was not particularly excited by women. She was going to make an effort,
because she knew that this scene would be repeated regularly.

"See, you don't want to. You don't obey!" Brittany exclaimed as she stood up.

"Yes, but I don't know... it's the first time!" cried the girl with the copper skin,
but she was interrupted by the sound of the whip. Instantly fear tied her
stomach in knots.

"Follow me."

They approached a post in the garden. Stephanie immediately understood what

was going to happen.

"No, no, Brittany, please!" The whip slammed again...

But before more blows rained down, she was hung from a hook above her so she
could be whipped anywhere and couldn't escape. She was soon on her tiptoes as
Brittany enjoyed watching her struggle.

"1- You must call me Mistress" and the whip slammed, Stephanie screamed.

"2- You mustn't talk without being invited" and the whip slammed, Stephanie
screamed.

"3- It's not you who decides where you sleep" and the whip slammed, Stephanie
screamed.

"4- You obey without delay" and the whip slammed, Stephanie screamed.
The engine whined again, and gradually Stephanie collapsed to the ground.

"You see what a state you are in when you don't obey," said the young mistress
wrapping her slave in her arms. She helped her to get up and took her back to
her room.

Stephanie was lying on her stomach and Brittany was relieving the pain of the
marks on her back with lotion. The slave was enjoying this moment of respite
but looking at the cage with anxiety.

"You're bleeding a little, don't move too much. Is it painful?"

"Yes, Mistress," she confirmed.

Brittany then slipped a hand between her slave's thighs.

"No, open your thighs," she ordered.

Stephanie was surprised at the excitement she suddenly felt.

"You're all wet, bitch," Brittany was right, but Stephanie couldn't tell what turned
her on. However, her mistress' fingers were welcome in this distress, even if she
was ashamed to be so excited.

The fingers slid along her hairless slit. By reflex, she lifted herself up to allow
them to progress, and was led to the verge of orgasm.

"You like that, don't you?"

"Yes... Mistress"

The index finger was on the top of the opening of her sex, and her breathing
was audible in the small room. She was dying to ask Brittany to touch her
clitoris, to stick her finger deep inside her.

"You like me to take care of you, but you refuse to take care of me?"

"N... No, mistress... I didn't know..."

"You'll have the opportunity to learn tonight," laughed Brittany.

"Now into your cage," she ordered.

Stephanie had to crawl into the narrow cage, and when she was in position,
Brittany tied her hands behind her back.
"Rest, they'll be here in a little over an hour."

Rest was difficult, so much so was it divided between the anguish of what was
going to happen and the excitement that Brittany had created without satisfying
her.

Brittany came back later

"They're all here, waiting for you."

Stephanie did not dare to answer her face expressed her question.

Brittany didn't answer and directed her into the living room. There were about
fifteen people there. Everyone from their class at school was there and their
Stephanie was, a slave naked in front of her classmates. She was red with
shame. She wanted to run away, or scream... when she saw Brittany raise her
menacing whip. Tears came to her eyes and she froze before getting down on all
fours as Brittany ordered her to use her mouth on as many boys as wanted her.

"A good bitch, she was born to be a slave," Brittany joked.

The sex in her mouth, the humiliation, everything contributed to her excitement.
Steve, who she had put in his place several times was going behind her. She felt
her lips moved apart first by his fingers then his hard cock. She was so excited
that it didn't matter. She was heading towards an inevitable orgasm.

Finding herself in a sandwich between the two boys, Stephanie forgot the others
who were watching them. The sensations went on pleasantly. Finally, being a
slave could have good sides, and it was not as if she had a choice.

But what if she became pregnant? She chased that thought away. It was no
longer her problem now, but her mistress's.

The two boys were accelerating, she regretted a little that they were not
synchronized, but her position as a slave would not allow her to make these
kinds of remarks.

Then suddenly behind her, he pulled out of her cunt. She gave a sigh of
disappointment and frustration that made the audience laugh.

She then felt the cock looking for its way between her buttocks. She bent herself
to facilitate the entry of his sex into her, but the sensation went upwards as he
spread her buttocks and finally pressed himself again her anus. The hands
positioning themselves on her hips, what was going to happen was obvious!
"No, no," she tried to say, opening her mouth wide. She barely had time to
realize her mistake when the boy ejaculated on her face.

Her weak protests were useless and just made them laugh and hurt her more.

"You really have to make trouble all the time!" Brittany shouted.

"Come on, take her to the garden," she added, taking her whip. Stephanie
understood immediately what was going to happen, the four strokes of the
afternoon were still painful.

"Sorry, sorry, no, I'll do what they want, Mistress!" but her crying was ignored,
and some red stripes were added.

Returning to the living room, Stephanie obeyed, but her holes were so painful,
she cried, and Brittany took this as an excuse to use her whip again.

Then came the blood stains that served as a pretext as well.

When the slave lost consciousness, the young people worried about her
condition and called for the emergency services. It looked like Stephanie had
been whipped so severely she was unconscious and bleeding out.

"My God, what a story," Alejandra exclaimed.

A growl of pain emanated from the next room.

"She's waking up. I'll take care of her. Would you like to come in?" the nurse
asked.

"Shouldn't we give you some privacy?" I asked.

"Oh no, she's a slave, you know!" she said.

Stephanie was lying on her stomach, naked except for her collar. Her back was
covered with blows and cuts.

"You see, her owner couldn't use a whip correctly!" said the nurse.

"Does it burn?" she asked the wounded slave who growled a "yes".

"I'm going to put some more cream on".

"You give her painkillers," I was worried.

"The only one to which slaves are entitled," she replied with a smile.

She was trying to spread the cream lazily on Stephanie's back. Something struck
me, but I didn't know how to ask the question.

Then she slipped a hand between Stephanie's legs.

"She's tied up," I asked.

"Yes, she's a slave" was the answer.

"You were also treated here," she looked at her hand that was on Stephanie's
butt.

"Yes... did you notice?"

"What happened?" I asked, trying to be gentle.

"Some masters... have crazy ideas," she says emotionally.

"Mine tried to cut off my fingers. At the third one, it went wrong." Indeed, she
had only three fingers on her left hand and four on her right. That didn't stop the
remaining fingers from being agile, judging by Stephanie's moaning.

"Oh please don't stop," begged the wounded slave.

"I'm listening to you..." the nurse asked.

"I must obey my master, and only come with his permission," whispered
Stephanie, apparently not completely convinced.

"Were you treated here?" I asked while I watched Stephanie squirm with
pleasure.

"Yes, and then as I was a nurse before I became a slave, they kept me."

"Oh, please," says Stephanie.

"No, you know what you have to do," Bethany insisted.

"I will come, can you stop or give me permission to come?" asked the frustrated
slave.

"I'll let you think about it for a few minutes," said the nurse.
"I'll walk you home," she told us.

"And Stephanie, will she stay at SOS?" I asked once we left her room.

"No, we're all here, and she doesn't have the training and then we have to
finance ourselves. We will find her a good master," the slave nurse reassured us.
I saw Alejandra rubbing her thighs together. I was in a similar state of horniness
and Bethany noticed it.

"Do you want me to take care of you... sexually?"

"Oh no," I replied, embarrassed.

"As you wish Miss. It is my duty as a slave to do anything I can for you. Also, I
am then allowed one orgasm for every 15 given," she said, opening a blouse to
show us the chastity belt she wore underneath.

It was something of a relief she gave us before we left.

At the place, I got a feeling of déjà-vu. I was at the place where the truck would
arrive and the six wooden beams were on the soil. On the opposite side, the six
pillars arranged three by three were standing.

Between these pillars, there were the pilloris. The losers would be locked in them
until the winners finished their time on the cross.

The trucks finally arrived and I was able to observe the work of the guards. They
wore the same sober dark uniform. Two by two these guards helped the
participants to get down. As soon as one of the players put his foot on the
ground, his two guards directed him toward the beams. They were showing him
to the crowd so that he could not see these beams. At the same time, two other
guards were taking over the next player. While the couple of guards detached
the player's hands by holding him in front of the beams, another pair of guards
lifted the nearest beam and positioned it above his shoulders. As soon as his
hands had been released, they were attached to the beam again. This way, I
understood, prevented the participants from feeling any downtime. They were
involved in a continuous flow of events.

The nearest crowd stood up to see the well-oiled mechanics better. Some took
pictures, and others filmed them.

Two rows of naked men and women were formed. Frightened by the sound of
whips, which were in fact only leather straps, they began to walk barefoot in the
grass.
Lana was first in the women's row. It began from behind the pillars from which
the men would hang. She was much smaller than that black, muscular girl
behind her. On the shoulders of the latter, the beam was no more than a straw.
A tall redheaded girl, only skin and bones, walked with labored steps. She won't
last long, I thought. She'll be the first to give up. The danger will come from the
second one.

In the crowd, a wave formed as people stood up as those who would risk their
freedom passed by, before sitting down. I wanted to see it as a tribute.

The other row was the men's row. In the lead was Andrew's coach. I smiled and
remembered how he had wanted to imitate me, but his blowjob had been so well
executed that poor Andrew had come into his mouth. After that, he never had
been able to continue. That's what led Andrew to his cell and the coach here.
Right behind him, was Bill's coach, I think. The week before he was wearing
clothes. Hmm, he was to my taste, although a little too skinny. Finally followed a
rather fat native American. The beam seemed heavy on his shoulders.

The crowd was smaller on that side, perhaps less inhibited and noisier.

Their progress was slow behind the pillars, giving the crowd time to enjoy it.
Lana stopped as she observed one of the poles. I saw the fear on her face. One
guard spoke to her and another slammed his strap to the delight of the crowd.
Yet I'm sure she wasn't whipped, just scared, and she started walking again.

The crowd, they certainly thought she had been bitten by the leather; at least
that's what the screams of delight told me.

Men and women crossed paths, then they were directed towards their respective
sites. A guard pushed Lana back. With the weight on her shoulders, she
staggered and stumbled against one of the pillars, the one that was to be hers.
She had the eyes of a prey paralyzed by fear. She was looking at the
overexcited crowd.

I guess there she felt the humiliation of being exposed naked in this way, the
humiliation of not even being able to cover her breasts or pussy with her hands.
No downtime for the guards. As Lana looked at the crowd, one of them tied the
ropes that hung from the top of the future cross to the beam. Two others were
pulling on the other ends of these ropes. It lifted Lana out of her torpor by
pulling her up. The one who had tied the ropes joined the other two, a new
effort, and my protégée was on tiptoe, she shouted in surprise. Once again, they
fired. Her scream was cut off as she left the ground. Then there was the sound
of the crowd clapping their hands to the rhythm of the guards pulling the ropes
and uniting them. Two guards kept moving her up slowly now, and two others
approached her.

She had seen the scene up close the week before, but, like the others, she was
looking for support to stand up. Her legs turned and clung to the pole, then
trying to climb up, she slipped her feet on the too smooth surface. The crowd
laughed at her distress, but she tried again without realizing that her legs were
spread apart, showing all her intimacy.

The guards who had stopped pulling came to her and grabbed her ankles. They
were talking to her, and she was watching them. They bent her knees, then
pushed her ankles backwards from the post until her heels touched. Then they
would roll up the rope to hold this position. Captivated, the crowd made no more
noise. Lana was hung by her arms, her thighs so wide open that I could see the
opening of her slit. Then she pushed on her legs, swinging right and left to end
upright. The guards holding the ropes adjusted her position, and she fell down
and hung by her arms again. There was some pity in the crowd for her suffering
but as much excitement at her suffering and humiliation. Almost all the crucified
were at the same stage.

One guard signaled to me that it was time for me to approach. The other was
starting to attach the beam to the pillar.

Lana was breathing heavily. I was trying to remember Alejandra. I think she was
unable to breathe at that time. I was marked by this sex, shaved and open. Is
being waxed there, an obligation of the show? I was making a mental note to
ask Patrick. I turned around, every participant was hairless.

When she pushed again, she was unable to stand up straight. She had to keep
her knees slightly bent. She sighed with frustration, and let herself slip into the
down position.

A guard took her by the buttocks to push her up.

"I'll help you"

"Oh, no, please don't do that!" For seeing it the week before she knew that
another guard was pushing a dildo through one of the holes in the pillar. The one
a guard had spotted in his previous moves. This dildo was like a hook, and its
phallic tip came just under Lana's crotch.

I thought it was obscene. It was.

"Lubricant?" Asked the guard and handed me a tube. My work was starting. I
would brush the end of the dildo with it, then between Lana's buttocks. She was
still begging. I was trying to slip a finger to make her release her sphincter.
Obviously, she wasn't ready for that. The guard who didn't hold her buttocks
released his pressure and inevitably she slipped down. She tried to avoid the
obstacle, but the guard guided her. When the contact was made, it seemed as if
she had received an electric shock. She pulled herself together and put herself
back in the high position, but inevitably she adjusted. It took her three attempts
to finally agree to sit on it.

The guard spread her buttocks, and both of us watched the curious spectacle of
her sphincter that gradually gave in under the pressure of the intruder.

When she sat down again she must have been surprised to find it so high. She
had no choice but to let it open her anus. I could see the axis being covered little
by little. But it was too much, and again she pushed on her legs. Again, the
guard adjusted the height: now, even in the high position, the tip penetrated
her.

She sighed in protest and began to impale herself on the object again.

About an inch. She was pushing.

Two inches this time, and another sigh. The guard was gone.

Each time deeper, the tone of her moaning gradually turned towards pleasure.
Really, was she enjoying this imposed penetration?

Everyone was at this incongruous ordeal.

The crowd? I couldn't imagine what they were watching on the giant screens,
but they were happy and cheering and applauding.

I was getting close to Lana, she was sweating. Finally, the smell told me that it
wasn't sweat only that made her sex so shiny.

"Do you want to drink?" she nodded.

Each of these condemned of the civilization of spectacle developed its own

rhythm. Put yourself in an upright position and breathe, then let yourself go
down to rest. Even in the beginning, it was difficult. To get up you had to push
on your legs. Breathing meant holding in an uncomfortable position because of
the bent knees. To get back down they could have dropped, but not with a stake
that impaled you, at least not at first. The week before had taught me that after
a while they would not be so meticulous. When to rest, certainly, but with legs
and arms apart, and this famous stinger, deep in their guts.

I was looking at the men. They were all tough. Maybe I should train a man next
time? It took me a few moments to realize the enormity of my thinking! Was I
going to be a coach until one of my protégés lost? So that I, in turn, had to ride
the cross? Never! I had to fight these thoughts immediately. I promised myself
that I would never be a coach again.

Last time, the cramps appeared after about 30 minutes. So, I planned to watch
Lana and hydrate her every 5 minutes with a sports drink that was supposed to
avoid cramps.

For the black girl, everything seemed so easy, even after 25 minutes. For the
others, their thighs showed obvious signs of fatigue: their movements were very
irregular. That's when I started to get scared. Maybe being the second would not
be enough to avoid ending up a slave. Indeed, there was the time clause, it was
necessary to finish closer to the winner than to the loser. I decided to chase that
thought away, the last time we had some surprises, and it would probably be
the same this time.

33 minutes were up when the black scream "Shit!"

"A cramp?" Asked her coach

"Yes," replied the crucified woman, between complaint and laughter. It was a
nervous laughter.

"The solution is well known," exclaimed her coach, who was watching me. I felt
ashamed. She then turned to her friend and pointed an index finger into the
hollow of the V formed by her black and shiny lips. She moaned as her coach
teased her clitoris very gently. The crowd seemed to enjoy the show.

They had not finished that when the third girl screamed too. Her coach was less
comfortable with this solution that I had popularized a week earlier with
Alejandra. However, she slipped her fingers into the offered and damp slit.

"No, no, no, not that!" the exposed woman begged.

The doctor passed by, amused by the show and picked up an empty can on the
floor. He looked at this girl more closely.

"Can you move a leg?" he asked. The girl nodded, then in effort did what she
was asked. A red liquid flowed from under the ropes on his foot.

"Get her down," he simply said.

There were cries of disappointment in the crowd. Then whistles when she was
put in the pillory. It was an intense moment for everyone as new slaves were
made.
We were at the end of the game, I thought, and Lana hadn't had any cramps so
far.

I was looking at the black girl. From when could Lana give up without these girls
pushing the game up to make her a slave and get the 10% of the sale of two
slaves instead of one? It was still necessary to wait.

Despite her cramps, she was still climbing up and down skillfully. This was
clearly not the case with Lana, who every time she got up fell off her weight on
the dildo. I couldn't imagine the state of her anus.

Five more minutes. Lana was looking at me. She laboriously pushed up to
whisper "Pineapple" then fell back. She was preparing to push again. I knew
what she was going to say: "pizza."

"Get her down," I ordered. Would those five minutes be enough?

The top of the pillory had just closed over Lana's neck when the black girl gave
up.

"You did it! You did it! you're a free woman!" I was so happy for Lana. I held for
her the cup of this drink that all the participants receive after descending from
the cross. Next to us, the winner saw a guard offering her a bathrobe and her
coach holding the cup for her as well. She sat on the floor. Lana was only the
second, but she avoided slavery. Around us, the crowd was screaming.

A guard came to take the cup from me when it was not yet empty.

"I'll help her, don't worry. Mr Saint Andrew wants to see you."

I was delighted that he wanted to congratulate me as soon as the game ended.

He was not far away, talking to the doctor and another person. The other guards
were finishing preparing the stage. In the stands, people would get up to see the
rest better.

"You asked for me"

"Of course, I suppose you're proud of yourself, Lana finished on time," he

replied. But before I could answer, the doctor spoke.

"Have you ever seen this can before?"

"Obviously, this is the drink I gave Lana, to keep her hydrated."

"Didn't you know that the only drinks allowed were water and vinegar?" asked
the third man.

"I... I... didn't know..." I stuttered. A knot had just tied in my stomach. I hadn't
yet reacted that a guard was on his knees beside my ankle to wrap something
around it.

"What is that?"

"It's an electronic bracelet. To make sure that you will be among us next week,"
Patrick explained with a grin.

It took me some time to react. At first, I thought it was a bad joke as Lana and
the other participants climbed onto the stage. I was in the middle of the place
with the other coaches. Was Lana aware of what had just happened?

I thought I could see on her face the surprise of being on the losing side, of
being held naked rather than being dressed in a robe like the winners.

Patrick stood in the middle and called her first, and then I saw his face turn
white, and silence came. Everyone was wondering what was going on.

"Lana, your coach cheated by giving you a prohibited substance, so you're

downgraded to last place." The crowd began to whistle and boo and then laugh
and cheer. This was pure drama.

Lana stood still, as if she hadn't understood. Then she shouted, "But it's not my
fault. It's not my fault." Already, two guards were immobilizing her, and the
collar was locked around her neck. I was touching my neck. I was still free. The
crowd was singing.

I felt guilty about what was happening. I was losing track of events. I only
looked up when the other girl was called.

"I wish SGL would help me become an obedient slave," she said, tilting her head
to make Patrick's work with the necklace easier.

'Losing is a way to choose to become a slave without having to say it,' I thought.
That was the phrase Patrick used when we first met. I thought it applied well to
that girl.

I lowered my head in shame as the crowd cheered for the winners. I was angry
at my mistake and about the consequences for Lana. I saw the box of the
electronic tag fixed around my ankle. I bit my lower lip.
Next week, I'll be here again. Unlike today, I would be naked. I would be
exposed to the public. I would be humiliated. I was thinking about giving up. So
I was thinking about those slaves I interviewed earlier in the week. Did I want to
become a slave? I was going to have to fight to prove that I deserved to remain
a free woman.

In the crowd I was looking for Alejandra's eyes, the bleachers were emptying,
and I couldn't find them. When I am on the cross it will be a fight between pain
and myself.

Slavery Games Ch. 03: Coached

byPandaPensif©

Here is Bridgett's article about Slavery Games. Like the first part, this article is
not intended for children. If you are an opponent of Slavery law, you should skip
it.

The testimonies I received from slaves during the previous week had made a
mess of my mind. I needed to find calm after the disaster that the second
crucifixion show turned into.

I went home and undressed so I could have a look at the electronic tag that was
rubbing my ankle raw. It had been placed there to ensure I would come to the
next show.

If I didn't, I would be made a slave immediately. That's the fate for the coaches
who fail to keep their trainees on the cross for long enough. My brain was so
frazzled, I was wondering if it wouldn't be better to accept slavery rather than
being hung and displayed on a cross.

I began to cook since Alejandra wasn't home. She had participated in the first
crucifixion show and when I interviewed her in the slave pen's I had taken the
life changing decision to become her coach. Since that event, she had spent
most of her nights at my home, usually naked. I really enjoyed it. I hadn't
realized that I was bisexual, nor had she but the game show had joined us
together. Our relationship was forged from the extremes of the game show. By
the time I heard the door, the meal was nearly cooked.

"Hi, Bridgett! I met Patrick Saint-Andrew earlier and we came to an agreement,"

she said. Patrick was the show organizer and the sentence was supposed to be
happy and upbeat but her tone of voice betrayed considerable anxiety.
"He accepted that my articles are enough advertisement, so I don't need to
climb on that cross?" I asked hopefully aiming to lighten the mood.

"Err, not exactly... He accepted that I will be your coach, but if you end up as a
slave I will not have to compete again. Our fates are still linked," she said
quickly. Something was odd I thought but I couldn't quite say what exactly was
wrong.

Alejandra knew how to distract me though, she stripped naked and went into her
slave fantasy. She served us our dinner and lead me to the bedroom.

"Strip!" she ordered. I was stunned. She had just given me an order. What?

"I'm no longer the slave, Bridgett. I'm your coach. You need to exercise and to
get used to being naked!" she said.

All week long she kept me busy, making me do lunges and squats as well as
quite a lot of running. I easily understood the reason why. I was scared but she
was good at making me forget my worries in bed afterwards.

I was shivering as Alejandra and I descended into the Slavery Game Limited
basement. On my previous trips I'd been a reporter or a coach. Today, I'm still a
journalist, but I'm the one that will stay in one of the cells held naked and
possibly not to return to life as a free woman. I was glad Alejandra held my
hand while we were following Patrick Saint-Andrew. I had not noticed the
previous times how grey, cold, and hostile the walls were. I didn't belong here.
At that very moment, I would have run away had it not been for the electronic
bracelet fastened around my ankle. I couldn't remove it so I knew I would have
nowhere to hide. I noticed a table had been added in the middle of the corridor.
I stepped to the side to have a look at what was laying there and behind Patrick
were three slave collars. My blood ran cold.

I also felt Alejandra's reaction at the sight of the symbols of slavery, as she
stopped walking. She was usually so confident but I could tell how nervous she
was.

"I thought you would appreciate having a look at them!" Patrick said with a wide
smile. I had to reply but struggled to find the words.

"Are they fake?" I asked.

"I don't like the word 'fake'. They are true slave collars, but they are transitional
ones. Be sure the wearer is already a true slave. Not just for trying of course,"
he joked. I didn't appreciate his sense of humour but the reality of how little that
mattered was starting to sink in.
"I... I will try..." Alejandra stuttered. She approached the table and took one of
them and held it up to her neck. I was afraid Patrick would say that she should
be kneeling to close it around her neck, but he did not.

"It's ... large... and heavy!" she said while putting it back on the table. She was
scared. So was I. Did these devices have any other purpose than scaring us?
Perhaps tomorrow they would be locked around our necks. Even if they were
'transitional' we would be slaves for life. It made me think of what Patrick
explained to me the first time I met him, that losing is a way to become a slave
without having to ask for it. But I'm a winner I thought. Well, I wasn't so sure
now. I was so afraid of not being able to win!

"It has to be noticeable," Patrick explained. "But we don't have all the time we
want! You know you mustn't meet the other participants. Here is a kind of
changing room," he said while opening a door to a cloakroom. Fear paralyzed
me. "Please Bridgett!" he insisted and I worked hard to move there. There were
cases for me to store my private things. "You can put your clothes there and you
will get them back afterwards." He didn't say it, but I heard the 'if you're still a
free woman'. I looked around and there were no curtains. I began to close the
door. "I prefer it stays open," he said looking at me. I looked at both of them.
Patrick didn't move and was still looking at me and enjoying my humiliation.
Alejandra turned her back to me. I understood I had to disrobe without privacy!

I turned to face the back of the room. I chose to remove my clothes now
because I knew I would have to take them off before going into the cell. I
removed my shirt and bra first. I noticed my nipples were hard. I hadn't noticed
that before in the turmoil of emotions I felt. I removed my trousers and panties
at once and I put them in the cupboard. I was shaking and couldn't yet make
myself turn around to face Patrick and Alejandra. Patrick went to the cupboard,
closed it and put a lock on it.

"I'll keep the key for you as I see you have no pockets," he said cheerfully and
laughed. I did not. I shielded my breasts and sex with my hands. I thought back
to when I had met the first contestants. They had all done the same and as a
free woman I had found it ridiculous and childish for people that were about to
be displayed naked on a cross. And here I was doing the same thing, but I
couldn't help it. I saw the smile on Patrick's face. Was he thinking the same?

"Here is your room, the room service is really reduced, I think," he said as he
opened a cell. I went in. Alejandra followed me. The door closed behind us.

"Oh, Alejandra! I'm so scared," I managed to say.

"Being naked increases that feeling of helplessness, doesn't it?"

"Oh god, you're right. It cannot be worse!" I said. I was naked in a cell. I just
had seen slave collars. I felt like a slave already. I thought of Cathy or
Stephanie. I thought of Lana with guilt. 'They could force me to do whatever
they want now!' was my main thought.

Alejandra went behind me. "You're prepared. Try to relax if you can. The others
will be in the same emotional state," she reassured me. She explained she had
to leave to eat. She took my hands and explained she had some things to do
and would be back later in the afternoon. Then I felt a cuff at my wrist. She
kissed me in my neck and cuffed the other wrist behind my back. "I love you, I
trust you," she said and knocked at the door.

"But...!" I asked as she left me even more helpless than I was before. I couldn't
even shield my breasts and sex with my hands!

I looked around. The cell was a not so small room with bare concrete walls. It
felt cold, but wasn't, as I was naked, and I wasn't cold. In one corner there was
a mattress and a toilet at the opposite end of the cell. The flooring was some
sort of linoleum. Walking barefoot on it wasn't unpleasant.

I just had nothing to do. Being cuffed didn't help either. All I could do was to
think about my fears: becoming a slave. The loss of control, of my property, of
being so humiliated. Perhaps not being allowed to be clothed again! Not being
allowed to discuss orders. Orders that would come from an unknown Master or
Mistress.

A Master I couldn't choose! I could be sold. I would have no say by whom. I

swallowed hard. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be a slave if I could at least
choose my Master...

That Master would decide for me. He could decide to change my appearance or
beat me to death. I thought of Bethany whose Master decided to remove her
fingers. I had tears in my eyes. I did not want to become a slave!

The door opened. And a petite woman entered. She looked at me. I felt like a
pet or even an object and it dawned on me that I was to her. Was she deciding
how much she would offer for me on the slave auction?

"I'm the esthetician. Follow me!" she said. And she led me through the corridors
to a room that was looking like a hairdresser's salon. I was uneasy walking
nude.

"Sit!" she said, and she removed the shawl she had around her neck revealing a
collar. She was a slave too!
"I have to remove your bush down there!" she said pointing at my hairy pussy.

"I... I..." I began.

"It's not like we have any choice about that. I will also remove that electronic
tag!" she said as she pushed me into the chair. It took her 20 minutes. I tried to
speak with her, but all I could get was, I will reply after your performance on the
cross.

I felt more naked and vulnerable than before. I thought of Alejandra. She had
told me I had better shave down there and I should have listened to her rather
than been forced to endure this.

Seeing the hairdresser had refocused my mind. I wasn't thinking of slavery now
but about being crucified! In a few hours from now I would be hung on display
and competing for my freedom.

I thought of the legs spread position. I thought of the cramps they got. I was so
anxious. I would be in Alejandra's power. She could make me a slave or help me
endure and escape with my liberty. 'Oh my God, what have I done?"

One thought remained. I hoped to be worthy if I was to be collared. I

remembered the man that felt betrayed in the first session. But in what state of
mind would I be after nearly one hour on the cross?

I was petrified with fear by the time Alejandra came back. What had she had to
do? It's not like we could both be slaves by tomorrow I thought. How much time
was she away? I had no clock in there.

"You're white as a ghost!" she said.

"I'm so fearful," I replied. "Please hold me."

"Oh, you met the hairdresser," she laughed looking at my hairless sex.

"Oh Alejandra, what if I fail tomorrow?"

"We would hope somebody wants a pair of lesbian slaves," she answered, but I
realized her voice wasn't so sure. She was anxious also.

"I want you to kneel, and eat me," she ordered. It was the coach that spoke, not
my slave. I had no choice but to obey. I was, after all, the one naked with my
hands cuffed behind my back.
She raised the hem of her skirt. I thought of lowering her underwear using my
teeth, but she wasn't wearing any! I went to her. I was more experienced than
the first time we made love in one of these cells. Could a Master forbid such
interaction between two slaves? I thought about Bethany's chastity belt and
hoped with every cell in my body that this would not be the last time I made
love to Alejandra.

As I smelled her scent and put my lips between her legs, I realized that I knew
how excited she was -- how excited we both were. I was incredibly aroused too.
I was a wet and willing slave slut. I wished I could use a hand on myself. She
put her hand on my head and guided me to her pussy, her sensitive clitoris.
Usually, I was in her place but now I was glad to be her slave. I wanted to be
her slave. But this was impossible. If I ended up as a slave then she would
become one too.

Her back was on the wall and she had her knees spread wide for me, as I would
be displayed on a cross in hours. "Oh my god, I will be open and displayed for
everyone to see," I thought while my tongue teased Alejandra's throbbing clit.
After I'd made her cum, she looked at me and kissed me.

"I'm in a trance also!" she said and laughed. I went to her. I wanted her to use
her hands between my legs, but she would not touch me that way. "You're my
slave this evening, for once," she said.

"Is it evening already?" I asked.

"I'm not allowed to let you know!" she laughed.

She uncuffed my hands and told me to lay on my mattress. I wasn't used to her
being so dominant. She went and sat on my face, holding my arms, teasing my
nipples. I made her cum once again, and again when she fucked my face more
forcefully and urgently. I almost came when she touched my clitoris with her
tongue, but it was such a fleeting touch it left me panting with desire.

"Sleep as well as you can. I'll be with you tomorrow, Mistress!" she said.

I didn't sleep that badly. It could have been worse. I had been awoken by the
hairdresser bringing me breakfast. I was fearful it might just be bread and
water, but it was in fact the opposite and an extravagant affair. I was given a
full continental breakfast with orange juice and a 1.5l bottle of water.

"The water is to keep you hydrated. You'll need it on the cross."

"Did you volunteer to be a slave?" I risked asking. She began to leave, then
stopped.
"Not exactly. I lost at one of the first games. 'Make them cum'." She said as she
swallowed.

"Oh... you were supposed to give hand jobs and the first man to cum and the
women that took the most time to make her man cum were enslaved?" I asked.

"Yes, there was a hand job, a blowjob... and a footjob. I lost at the third one"
she said and left in a hurry.

I couldn't help but notice this was my third participation in the game. I
swallowed and tried to think about something else. I would need that meal. At
the thought of what was to come, my stomach was knotted. I took some time
but I finished the meal and kept the bottle, to take small sips of water. I had
barely finished the bottle when the slave came again.

"Do you want another bottle?" she asked.

"Err, I'm afraid I would have to ..."

"To piss from the cross. It would be that humiliating that you prefer to end up as
a slave?" she said sarcastically.

"You wanted to be a slave, I mean... how is it?" I asked. I was uneasy. How to
ask a slave if they are happy with their fate? It was such an intimate question
but I had to know.

"I thought I was ready for it. I was not and you're not," she said, and before she
left she added, "You still have two hours".

I took the bottle again and drank a sip. She was right. I had fantasized a lot
about becoming a slave but I had to fight with everything I had to remain free.

The truck was not comfortable at all. I was naked with my wrists tied it was
difficult to keep any holder. I didn't dare to look at the others. In fact, the men
were in front of me, but my competitors were beside me. It's them that I would
evaluate to know if I had a chance. I felt like my bladder would explode. I was
angry with the slave that had given me so much water. The journey seemed
endless and yet I wasn't in a hurry for it to finish.

On arrival, two guards were assigned to help each contestant to get down. My
wrists were briefly freed but only so my arms could be tied to the beam. It was
the same for all the other contestants. each of us.

"Alejandra!" I called in distress. It was beginning already.

"She awaits you farther," one of the guards said softly. I was surprised at how
gently he spoke. He was right though and I should have remembered the
procedure as I had been a coach but I was so anxious I had forgotten.

"Caution, we are about to place the beam on your shoulders," a voice said. Once
again, I felt gentleness. Then I felt the weight of the beam, and almost fell.

"It's quite heavy, but you'll manage," he said.

I heard the whip and looked in panic as to where it came from.

"Don't panic! Manage your beam's weight! The whip is just for the show. We're
not here to hurt you just to crucify you. Move." I did as I was told. The guard at
my side helped me to get the direction, and I just had to walk under the beam. I
straightened and saw the place, the crowd. I saw the poles! I pushed on
something with my barefoot, but before I fell one of the guards helped me to
keep my balance.

"That's good," he said, "carry on and don't look at the pillars." In front of me all
I saw were tanned legs. The girl seemed muscular to me. I was the one in the
middle. I kept walking. Breathing was difficult. It was about to be done. Then I
saw the poles again, we were between the men's ones and the crowd. The path
was long, and the beam heavy. We passed the men. I realized they were naked.
I remembered the way and we were almost at the crucifixion site. I followed the
legs. I had no choice with a guard on each side. They seemed caring but the
sound of the whip kept some stress on. We were still walking on the grass, but I
felt lost. I searched for the poles with the eyes. Where are they? The guard
moved my beam backwards, and I felt the pole in my back: 'My god, we've
arrived!' I was in panic. I never wanted that. I saw Alejandra. She was not far
and winked at me and I felt a lot calmer and more at peace with my fate for
seeing her.

I just began to wonder what the guards were doing when they said: "We are
about to raise you." The sentence was not finished before the guards began to
raise the beam that held me up. I was on the tip of my toes. "Tiptoes," a guard
said. I looked at him anxiously trying not to think too much about the enormity
of what was happening. He smiled. "Breathe now and hold on," he said. "You can
do it." I complied and just concentrated on filling my lungs while I could.

It pulled on my arms. It hurt. I needed to do something, and I searched for

support with my legs. I only found the pillar. I knew it was useless but I had to
try anyway in an attempt to raise myself by pushing against the pole. I couldn't
breathe! I couldn't breathe!
I felt hands at my legs. They were pushing me up. I could breathe again. I
straighten my legs. "Relax then get down," they said. I complied and I felt them
tie my ankles to the pole. I pushed again. But this time I couldn't straighten my
legs. When I tried I pulled on my arms, upwards. It was painful to try to keep up
so I fell down, hung again from my arms. I realized I was nude. I tried to close
my legs. It was impossible. I was nude, shaved, exposed. I looked down.
Alejandra was in front of me, she smiled at me trying to give me confidence that
it would be all right and willing me to fight. "Get up," the guards ordered, but I
was unable to push up. My body moved to one side then the other. I felt the
guards, hands on my bottom. They were keeping me up: it meant painless air: I
breathed!

Then I felt a cold, slippery hand between my legs. It went to my ass. 'Oh my
god, no. I'm being lubricated. It's for the dildo I will be impaled on!' I had almost
forgotten that part!

"It's called a sedula, it will help you breathe but it has its own price," the guard
said.

"Lower yourself onto it now," he advised. I didn't comply that time.

"Do it or it will be worse if you fall on it".

"Oh no," I tried to say, but I was already short on air, and I was getting tired.

I was desperate enough to breathe and remain free that I lowered myself onto
the pole. I felt hands guiding me onto it. I really didn't want this. I didn't want it
in my ass. But they pushed me down onto it.

"Don't fight it. It will go there anyway, Bridgett," Alejandra said gently.

She had fought it and it had really hurt her. I was trying to sit down and relax as
much as I could but I was so overwhelmed. Naked, spread on display and now
being impaled. It hadn't seemed so bad watching Alejandra used like this. I
realised now that I'd actually enjoyed her pain and humiliation so I must be
brave now it was my turn. I felt it pushing into me.

"Push like you are going to the toilet," Alejandra said. I did and felt the odd thing
go deeper. I panicked and tried to use my legs to push up away from it.

Saying I was miserable would be an understatement. I was in the 'up' position,

and I still felt the thing against my anus. I could have cried and tears were
forming in the corners of my eyes. Once again, I tried to sit down on it,
accepting the full and wrong feeling as it entered me. My knees were bent, and I
had not enough strength to keep the position. I had to move down, or up. Tears
were leaking from my eyes but that was nothing compared to the pain from my
arms and legs. I thought I would have been more humiliated by my position and
imposed sodomy, but I needed to fight to stay free. I blocked out any thought
about the people watching me and took as much of the pole as I could. It was so
far in now that there was no way off it.

Once I sat on the dildo, the stress on my arms was lowered, but the pain at my
tail-bone was higher.

I was able to reduce it by pulling on my arms and the pain moved to them. Of
course, that relaxed position could not last long as to breathe I had to push on
my legs. But as my knees were bent, the position was unbearable. So, I moved
between these positions, being forced to slowly fuck myself in the ass on the
sedula.

"That's right, Bridgett. You did good. You can do this." Alejandra said. I looked
at her. I was exhausted already.

I pushed and tried to ask, "How long?" but I couldn't hold any more. I fell down
and hung there in such pain and fear. My next attempt I managed to say the
word "Time". She looked at me surprised.

"Two or three minutes, I think," she replied. I was desperate, I was sure I would
need to stay up for 20 minutes at least.

"Try to change the way you get up and down, try to push on one leg rather than
the other," Alejandra said. I tried. Whoa, I didn't expect that! The first time, the
sedula avoided me to fall on one side or the other like I did before I had it.
Second, as I moved it stimulated different parts of my anus. I hadn't realized I
could feel anything but pain and discomfort from there. I moaned as I was
getting a little pleasure in my sea of pain.

"Thanks," I half whispered and moaned.

"Do not talk too much. It costs you a lot. Nod with your head," she explained
and I nodded to show that I had understood.

"Do you want a drink?" she asked. I nodded my head and she gave me small
sips of water.

I must say that it was at that moment that I felt a deep frustration. Alejandra
only let me drink when I was in the high position, as recommended to me when
I was her coach. I couldn't take the cup with my hands tied and spread. I drank
but some of the liquid spilled onto my chest and then along my naked body,
exposed to the crowd. It was frightening but also arousing to see how excited
the people watching were by the competition. Many of the men were erect and
touching themselves but the most powerful thing was seeing the raw excitement
in the eyes of everyone watching.

The sedula was finally quite pleasant, but once again I had no control over
anything and was subject to my need to breathe and my failing physical
strength.

If the pain in my legs, and in my arms, had not already made me cry, this
intense frustration would have done it. I knew the game would be a physical
challenge, but I hadn't realized how intense the mental and emotional challenges
would be. Hung there like meat I realized how naïve I'd been and just had to
hope I would be free to learn from this.

I must seem stupid or naive. I was expecting humiliation and it was there. I was
expecting the pain and it was there. I wasn't expecting this frustration.

I also knew it was only the beginning and it would get worse.

I wanted to move and I was forcing my arms but to little effect.

I was forcing my legs, becoming aware of my open position, I felt offered.

Suddenly I realized: I was excited!

My breasts were tight, my sex had to be wet like Alejandra and Lana's. The dildo
was between my buttocks but I wanted it in my sex. I wanted to be made to
come naked and exposed as I was in front of all these people.

They were all there watching me slowly choke and were clearly enjoying my
suffering as I had the suffering of others. Were these voyeurs, these agents of
my humiliation aware of my desire for sex at that moment? Could they sense
how wildly aroused I was?

I looked around, but my tearful eyes only allowed me to see Alejandra. I wanted
to see the crucified men and their sex that I knew were held towards me,
towards us, so close, so far away from me tied to this piece of wood. I wanted to
watch in the crowd the men watching me as they stroked their hard cocks and
enjoying themselves. I wondered how many women were getting wet watching
me and hoped that some were brave enough to be touching themselves too.

Gradually the fatigue increased. I was still able to rise a little, but I could no
longer hold the high position and my descent became inevitable. The sedula took
advantage of each fall to take me more violently and it felt like it was tearing me
each time. I was hoping I could make my rest last, but since I was taking less
air, I had to do it more often. I was really starting to struggle and just hoped it
was at least as hard for the other women.

I was alone with my suffering. Alone even though Alejandra was standing close
by and willing me on.

"That's good, keep going."

No, it wasn't good; this was hell.

She was right though, talking was now almost impossible and my frustration was
growing into rage. Rage I could use to stay up a little longer even though I
wanted so badly to scream to be let down.

Then there was a scream, and at first I wasn't sure if it was me or not. Then
from the look in Alejandra's eyes, I understood one of the girls had a bad cramp.
I was trying to see, but the sweat was adding to the tears in my eyes, and
burning. I closed my eyes and tried to slow my breathing as I could feel panic
spreading through my body.

"We still have to hold on," Alejandra said.

What's the point? Did she come down?

I felt something. I was bleeding. I opened my eyes again. Alejandra was putting
lubricant back on my perineum. I groaned with pleasure and pain. I was so
scared. If I bled, I could be taken down by the doctor and would lose everything.
And all this fighting would have been for nothing.

"Do you like it?"

I nod my head, yes, I love her caresses! Even on the cross, especially on the
cross.

I need her. I want her so badly.

I make a throaty cry.

"A cramp?" she asked. It wasn't. It was desire. Pure lust. I wanted her so badly
but didn't' have the strength to say it.

I think about Stephanie and Bethany. I want to come but I know it would be the
end.

Has anyone been taken down yet?

"You want me to continue?" I plead with her as I already know the answer.

I could feel her hand running over my hips, thighs, buttocks willing me to
continue.

"Yes," and I fell back, her hand caressed me on the way back. Then it slipped
between my thighs, open just for her.

"You know I can't let you come, right?"

I nodded.

"It's a dangerous game, don't you think?"

I nodded again desperate for her touch.

"We should stop."

No, no, no, I was shaking my head. I needed her. I needed this.

"We have to, otherwise, we won't have any room for maneuver if a cramp
comes."

Please, I wanted to say begging with my open sex and eyes but she stopped.

A new sensation, I pushed up.

"You need to let go and pee. It's okay baby. Just let go. You have to keep
fighting. For your freedom, for us."

I fell down and I could no longer hold it. I felt warm urine flowing down my legs.

Suddenly there is some noise and I became agitated -- desperate for it to be

over either way.

"One of the boys has given up."

Damn. That didn't help me. I was in too much pain to pity him and anyway his
defeat was a signal that the most difficult part of the game was about to start.
One of us women was going to become a slave shortly and it couldn't be me.

I've had lovers who couldn't get me to come. They came and went without ever
finishing and left me with a sore and painful pussy. When he was clumsy, he
didn't come, but neither did I. The dildo is like these lovers. My anus was so
painful and yet I was also learning that part of me liked to be so abused!

And then the cramp came, in my right calf. I'd have to move, put my foot on the
ground. It was intense. I pushed and screamed.

"A cramp?" I nodded.

"Thigh?"

I shook my head.

"Calf?"

Yes, the calf.

I can feel Alejandra's hands massaging the tightly knotted muscle. She was
making it worse. I didn't know how much longer I could take this.

And then I felt her lips at the top of my pussy. One gentle kiss, then another. I
need more. I wanted her so much to go faster but she's taking her time. She's in
control, not me.

I love her so much. I want her so badly. My desire eases the pain and the
cramp.

I want, I want, I want but I can't do anything. Her delicious caresses help me to
forget my pains but they also torment and frustrate me. Will I ever cum again
with Alejandra? I need to so badly.

Her tongue finally comes up between my lips. I feel penetrated, but not enough.
I raise myself and moan out loud. I hear some noise. I think people are
applauding and I am ashamed.

"I pause, because you must not come, my slave," she said to me.

Quite quickly the pain of the cramp returned as my pleasure is frustrated. My

rhythm might have shown it, because I felt her warmth between my thighs, then
her tongue again on my clitoris this time.

"Get her down from there!"

I felt so sick I thought I was going to throw up. I've never been more scared in
my life. For a second I just completely froze and even stopped breathing but
soon enough I understood that it was someone else being brought down, not
me.
I had a thought for her. She was a slave then, like Stephanie, Bill, Andrew and
Lana. I was so aroused at this thought that a surge of adrenaline gave me a
little more time to fight. I was also being spurred on by Alejandra who dared to
slide her tongue all the way inside me as she would when I used her in bed each
night. This intimate place that we only reveal to our lovers was open for
everybody to see but I needed it and the crowd were excited to share such an
intimate moment.

I pushed again: "Drink."

The cup came back to my lips.

I couldn't take it anymore, but I didn't want to end it when I was so close.

Three sips or four? Then the pain was piercing my thigh again!

"Cramp in your left thigh?" Alejandra asked and I confirmed with a nod.

Alejandra was massaging it hard, but my thigh was in so much pain I couldn't
tell if it was helping.

"Push with the other leg, the dildo guides you to stay straight." That was true
but what an effort to make with the left leg...

I realized then we hadn't decided on a safe-word.

"Spirit."

"Oh, no, Bridgett. Please don't. I know how difficult this is!" I was so confused.
All I wanted to do was to get down but I could tell from the fear and anxiety in
Alejandra's voice that I had to continue.

I felt a finger sliding between my thighs and it felt so good. She was looking for
my G spot!

For a moment I wanted to open my thighs wider, but I couldn't open them any
more than I could close them. Her mouth rested on my clitoris as she did
everything she possibly could do keep me up there. I was in so much pain but at
the same time I'd never felt this much pleasure. The stakes were so high.

Oh yes, Alejandra, yes, I felt like I was climbing... She knew me so well. I was
going to cum so hard I could scream. Then she stopped. I growled, frustrated.

"You have to win, for us!" she said. I didn't understand. Second place was quite
acceptable wasn't it?

The cramps were coming back, but Alejandra was playing again with my body
and my desires.

She stroked my breasts, she pinched and slapped them hard.

Once again, as I approached orgasm she stopped.

Still noise, movement, I guess. It sounded like another crucified woman has
been taken down from her cross, but it could have been one of the men. I was
losing track of what's happening.

"Spirit".

"No, Bridgett, not right away, not yet," Alejandra said with real desperation in
her voice. I didn't understand. I thought I had won. Of course, I could stay so
that the second one would be made a slave too. I would earn more, but what
would be the point? I just wanted to get down but I guessed something seriously
bad would happen to Alejandra if I did.

She started to caress me again I felt her mouth on my sex, her lips on my lips.
Her tongue on my clitoris.

"I want to make you come like this..."

I had to stay up and fight for Alejandra. I didn't know why but I had to.

Suddenly I was in heaven but this only made the fall even more severe.

I was all the way down, unable to push on my legs, unable to breathe. The
orgasm took everything from me.

I wasn't panicking yet. I'd seen this before. They would come and get me out of
there before I lost consciousness. I just tried to take a breath.

Somehow, I pushed again. It was reflex. And then I succeeded in lifting my butt.
It was hard, but I went up, and I could breathe! Wow. I fell back enormously
relieved and I could see how much it meant to Alejandra for me to hold on that
bit longer.

"Spirit." Spirit said three times had been Alejandra's safe-word when she was on
the cross.

"No, Bridgett. Two more minutes. You must stay up for two more minutes
please." We were both so desperate but I trusted her. I knew that for her to be
this scared I had to stay where I was even if it was the hardest thing I'd ever
done.

I pushed back though I was getting angry and scared at my situation and
confused as to why I was still suffering. I hissed "pineapple", at Alejandra,
Lana's safe-word.

And then the words I'll never forget: "We have a winner!"

I felt hands pushing me up and I could breathe again.

Quite quickly I felt my legs being freed, and the sedula was removed. Then
finally the ropes that held my arms were cut, and I was gently lowered to the
floor where a robe was placed on my shoulders.

Alejandra cried while holding my glass. I sucked sweet and spicy liquid through
the straw she held in a shaking hand. I did it! We were going to be okay.

"I'll explain. I know you're mad at me!" Alejandra told me as she kissed me.

I was exhausted. I looked and I saw the other two girls being held in the stocks.
They were distraught and crying and beyond consoling. I felt bad for them but at
the same time I could see how excited the people watching were at their fates. I
saw their coaches with worried faces, and electronic tags already around their
ankles.

I won! I won!

I was about to ask Alejandra what the hell was going on when I noticed her
outfit. She was wearing a mini skirt, shoes with small heels, but considering the
terrain they were as high as you could wear. Upstairs she was wearing a t-shirt
and no bra.

"We'll help you get up to go to the stage," two guards said. I wanted to walk
alone, closing my bathrobe. On my side, two men in a bathrobe came up with
me.

On the other side of the stage, there were two naked women and a naked man.

I was a little ashamed, knowing what slavery is all about, having helped to
enslave these people. I was even going to get 10% of the proceeds from their
sale.

Behind the slaves was Alejandra. What was she doing there?
Patrick did his act. I was exhausted. Once again becoming a slave is not easy,
and there were protests, but the different slaves had their collars fitted.

Then he came to me.

"You're our big winner, Bridgett. We were all impressed with your performance.
On this subject, your coach has spared no effort, and we can say that she has
not been clumsy," he says. Was he referring to my mistake with Lana? Certainly.
I chose to ignore it.

"Yes, she is very devoted." I realized that the word was not the right one, but it
was the one that came to me.

"You don't know how much!" he began.

"Alejandra wished she didn't have to go back on a cross so she asked me for my
terms. Isn't that right, Alejandra?"

"Yes," she replied softly.

"What is a slave's outfit, Alejandra?"

I put my hand in front of my mouth as I realized what was happening. She took
off her shoes, pulled down her skirt, then took off her T-shirt. She lowered her
panties in front of everyone. She was red with shame and knelt down.

"To avoid returning to the cross, Alejandra agreed to become a slave regardless
of Bridgett's performance," Patrick explained.

"Do you want to put his collar on?" Patrick asked me.

"I... no," I began.

"Please, I want you to," Alejandra said, bowing her head and presenting her
neck to me.

Mechanically I took the collar and closed it around the one I loved and was
losing. I was so shocked and devastated. I just hoped I could afford her.

Patrick locked the collar.

"Alejandra had negotiated something else, Bridgett. If you ended up as the only
free woman and give up your bonus on the sale of these two slaves, we offer
you, Alejandra," he said.
I admit I thought about scaring Alejandra by hesitating, but I was too afraid of
losing her to consider the idea for more than a moment.

I think Alejandra was proud of her trainee and I was proud of my slave. I took
her hand.

A few hours later, at home, Alejandra massaged me after this ordeal.

"Alejandra, shouldn't all your things have been seized?" I asked.

"Yes, Mistress. But while you were in the cell, I gave you everything I had."

"What if I hadn't won?"

"I would have been a slave anyway, so I would have lost everything anyway,"
she laughed.

"What about your work?"

"From tomorrow you get my salary."

"And you're going to go naked?"

"I will go naked or dressed as my Mistress wishes," she said.

"You're crazy," I said.

"I'm sorry for not telling you the plan but do you understand why I forced you to
win?"

"I understand, but maybe I should give you the whip?"

"Cathy said it can be exciting."

"Can you believe it?"

"No, and I hope my Mistress will be more flexible than Brittany!"

It was the next day that we went to change Alejandra's collar for the definitive
one.

She was very emotional and cried a lot. I could see how anxious the other three
slaves were about what their futures would be like and some of them had
already been beaten. I tried to comfort Alejandra but it was important to get
through this stage so she could be truly mine. It was her choice after all to
become a slave. I was just glad that she was mine.

"I could never take the collar off even if I wanted to," Alejandra said to me.

"No, it was designed for that. Removing it would be very dangerous and likely
kill you."

"I'm yours then," she half sobbed and half laughed.

"Unless I sell you," I teased her.

"And unless you become a slave yourself," Patrick added.

"I'm no longer sure I want to participate in these games," I replied.

And that's when he laughed.

In the auction room, later, the slaves had the same empty gaze as those of the
first auction in which I had participated. But what irritated me most of all was
Brittany. She and her father were there.

"Aren't you tired of buying her slaves that she mistreats? It must cost you a
fortune!"

"Ma'am, you don't have to tell me what to do or not to do. Besides, don't worry
about me, the insurance company reimbursed me for my last slave!"

I was furious!

Brittany was too.

"Why don't you settle this difference in a special show?" Patrick said.

"The first of the two to come down from the cross belongs to the other?"
Brittany proposed.

"I was thinking more like a special game where only those who can take a record
on the cross will go free. Cramps free drinks allowed but those who come down
before 60 minutes will be auctioned as slaves."

I'll never forget the look of horror on Alejandra's face as I said 'Agreed'.

With the drink, I hoped one hour would be within to be reached. I had lasted 48
minutes without such drinks.
When I got home after the bet I made, Alejandra stared at me in shock.

"You realize that if you become a slave, I'll be auctioned off too as your
property!"

Of course, I was just starting to realize what the anger and adrenaline had made
me do. I'd wanted to fight Brittany, and an opportunity to make her a slave had
seduced me. It was dangerous and I knew it.

A few days later, we met again with Patrick Saint Andrew.

The black girl who had won the day of Lana's participation was there with her
coach. There was also Brittany and her coach, Kimberly.

"I would like to propose a special event. You all have experience, and I suggest
that the winning team owns the losers: participants and coach." Patrick
suggested to everyone.

"Why the coaches too?" Kimberly asked anxiously.

"Because Alejandra will inevitably be sold at the same time as Bridgett," Patrick
answered.

"It's normal for a slave," Brittany interrupted smiling.

"I think it's normal for coaches to share the same fate. You need real guts to do
what Alejandra did," added Helena's coach. [what a brave coach - I'd love to
know why she's this cavalier/brave/stupid]

"However, it was a confrontation between Bridgett and Brittany that led to this.
I'd rather go to the auction than become the property of one of them. If I win, I
want them to be sold and I get the full amount if I win," Helena imposed.

"You all consider that there will only be one winner? There will be no second
place available?" I clarified.

"It wasn't our idea," Bridgett and Patrick said.

"There is already a rule that you have to do a minimum of 60 minutes or

become a slave, even though the record is 48 minutes. Beyond that limit the
second competitor and her coach remain free," said Helena.

Everyone looked at each other.

"I think that's reasonable because if none of us can last up to one hour, Patrick
will have six slaves to sell?" said Bridgett.

"Yes, but if one of you manages more than 60 minutes then it is they who take
the slaves or the balance of their sale. I think that's very generous of me to be
honest," Patrick said defensively.

The date for the special event was set for fourteen days later.

For two weeks Alejandra and I worked intensively on my strength and

endurance. Holding on for at least 60 minutes was going to be the greatest
challenge yet.

Alejandra wanted to work on my anus too because I was going to spend a lot of
time on the sedula. I was scared but at least this time I knew a little more about
what I was facing.

"Something worries me. Brittany is the one who has held out the least, and she
is not afraid to stay on the cross for an hour. Don't you think that's strange?"
Alejandra objected.

"I'm sure she'll lose. And I don't want to own her, just humiliate her by making
her a slave. She's so naïve I'm sure she thinks she'll win," I replied.

"Be careful it's not us being humiliated as well. Besides, in my opinion, if she
ends up on the stage, her father will buy her back."

"You have a point," I noted.

Every day we go running around doing squats and lunges. The same preparation
as the time before but at a higher intensity. We had to beat a record. Any
performance below that would be insufficient.

Then it was time to go and make ourselves prisoners. The six of us were there.

"The participants undress and go to these cells, the coaches to the ones
opposite," explained Patrick.

I was shivering thinking that Alejandra would not come to relieve me. The
situation was different from the previous time, and each of us wanted to show
others that we were confident about our chances, and we seemed not to have
any trouble getting naked. But once the cell door was closed, I cried with fear.
So did the others, I think.

At least this time, I didn't need to see the hairdresser as I'd already shaved.
Time passed slowly. But finally, we had a hearty breakfast and then got into the
trucks. There were six of us in them.

When the trucks arrived, the coaches went down first, then as they reached the
pillars, we boarded, and received a beam each. Then we crossed to the square.
This time, we had no boys playing.

Being raised on the cross was almost a formality. Alejandra lubricated my anus,
and once again I sat on the sedula, the dildo that went up into my ass. It was a
humiliation but also a tool that helped us to breathe and stay straight when we
got upright.

I was on familiar ground. It was still difficult, but I knew what to expect, and I
took some pleasure in letting this sedula slowly penetrate me without being able
to oppose it. I found the frustration I had experienced a few weeks earlier had
changed to somewhere between frustration and appreciation.

It seemed almost easy for me. It had to be for the others, too, didn't it?

In more than an hour, it was my purpose, things would be different, but I

preferred to focus on the present moment and take advantage of Alejandra's
encouragement.

"It's weird... it looks like a needle on your left arm," she said.

"Where?" I replied, trying to see. I had felt a sting earlier but hadn't thought
anything of it.

"My God, Bridgett. Bridgett, no!"

"What?"

"You're bleeding."

It was a terrible shock to hear about this because I knew the consequences for
both of us.

"It's no big deal, nobody will notice," I said. Alejandra was obviously not
convinced, but no one else but the two of us seemed to have noticed it at that
point.

'She wants me to be eliminated,' I thought. Quite quickly, I reacted. Our fates

were linked. Alejandra was right. We could not ignore the bleeding.
"What to do?" I asked. Once again, my position limited my expression. I was
thinking about seeing the doctor so he had to let me continue.

"How about I talk to the doctor to see if he can fix you up on the spot?"
Alejandra proposed and I nodded.

"Get her down," he simply said. Hearing those words felt like being stabbed and
I couldn't breathe.

"No, no, it's not much," Alejandra protested but they were already starting to
take me down.

"Wrist veins are dangerous," the Doctor said mechanically. I was crying. I was
mad at being eliminated and so early.

"Stand here and quickly," said one guard, shaking his leather strap. The gesture
was much more threatening than during the initial walk. Despite a stomach tied
in knots with fear, I knelt down and placed my head in the opening so he could
close it.

Immobilized, I was not so badly installed. The holes were lined with felt and
therefore were soft against my skin. Moreover, there was a brace below my
belly. On the other hand, I was already a slave. Next, to me, Alejandra had her
wrist attached to my pillory and she handed me a drink.

"There was a needle in the rope," she said.

"A defect, no doubt," I corrected. I wasn't convinced of that, but what is the
point?

"You have to investigate," she insisted.

"Alejandra, I've been a slave for two minutes. I... I'm no longer a reporter. I
won't be able to investigate and do an article on this competition."

"I just hope Brittany doesn't win!" She said.

My God, until then I had not thought of that. I was naked on the stage and it
could get a lot worse.

Alejandra was sitting on the floor next to me, and we were watching Brittany
and Helena. I must say that Helena was very elegant in her struggle to breathe
on the cross.

I didn't see how she could lose, but this game was always full of surprises.
Besides, the pillory didn't allow me to lift my head too much, and in fact, all I
could see was the girls' legs. Alejandra was telling me what was going on.

In my head, events were rushing in. I always came back to the point that I
would have to talk about it in an article. I couldn't accept that one life was over,
and another one was starting. And what would my life as a slave be like? At my
age, what else could I be but a sex slave in a small brothel? I mean, if I didn't
end up belonging to Brittany.

I was thinking about the slave hospital and Bethany. My position reinforced my
helplessness and made me very aware I was completely naked and exposed.
And not just to be looked at but to be used too.

"What are you thinking about?" Alejandra asked me.

"I can't slip a hand between my legs, or even squeeze my thighs," I told her.
She remained incredulous for a moment.

"Can't you?" she said, slipping her free hand between her thighs that she was
holding tight, just to show me. Then she laughed and so did I.

"In any case, I think the guards are very disciplined. They must be dying to
come and get you right now," she said.

"I was thinking about it, yes."

"Having just come down from the cross your ass is ready to use," she added.

I was less excited right away, and I was squeezing my butt! Though Alejandra
would probably have told me it wasn't mine any more.

I began to wonder what would happen between the collaring and the auction.
Would the guards still be so restrained?

That's when Brittany shouted "Earth".

"It's her safe-word!" both Alejandra and me exclaimed in unison.

Obviously, Brittany was twisting with pain on the ground, and the smell quickly
gave us the reason for her abandonment.

"She has diarrhoea! It's not possible!" Kimberly said without believing it.

The guards dealt with her shame with little emotion, washing her down before
putting her in the pillory in front of me.
I was sorry I didn't get to clean her up myself just so I could enjoy her
humiliation and draw it out a little more.

She was struggling a little, and the guards had to force her.

"I was drugged!" she shouted in protest as tears streamed down her face.

It lasted a few minutes and then she calmed down. Kimberly, tied to her pillory
as Alejandra was to mine, sat solemnly next to her.

"At least we won't be her slaves," Alejandra exclaimed in relief.

"On the other hand, I have a view of her lips and her wide open ass," I laughed.

"And the guards behind you have the same view of you."

Time was dragging on as we watched Helena suffer more than any of us. She
was fighting cramps with twenty minutes to go and doing it so bravely. Her
coach was taking care of her but it was an almost impossible job to keep her up
there. It was 5 minutes from the end that the doctor took her down from the
cross because she was choking and starting to lose consciousness.

"If you're going to end up a slave, you might as well be the first. You did well,
Bridgett," Alejandra teased trying to lighten the mood.

When the pillory opened up, I was happy to be able to stand up at last! Then all
six of us were led to the stage. There I felt really naked and exposed to all eyes.
I was a bit shell-shocked at all the shouting and excitement from the crowd.

"Bridgett, you didn't last very long," Patrick said.

"Yes, sir. " I replied, lowering my head. My heart was pounding as I started to
accept my new role as slave.

My submissive words made Patrick smile in a very satisfied way.

He put his hand around my neck moving my hair out of the way so he could
wrap a cold metal collar around my neck. It felt so tight and suffocating. So
heavy too. Tears came to my eyes.

As I turned around to return to my place - naked but for a collar - I saw the
coaches undressing.

"Face the crowd. Hands behind your backs," ordered one guard. The tone was no
longer as benevolent as it was during the opening of the show. I obeyed, and
handcuffs closed on my wrists. It's hard to express my feeling of helplessness,
and despair. Still, I thought 'act as a slave, Bridgett. This is your life now.'

Brittany was then called. She struggled, shouting that the game was rigged and
that she had been poisoned. But two guards quickly dealt with her and she was
soon standing next to me naked but for her metal collar, her hands tied behind
her back. I couldn't hold back my tears, but at least I was not having to be held
up by two guards as Brittany was. I tried to take some pride in being a good
slave.

Helena was calm. "The game was too hard," she simply said. She got down on
her knees.

"May I put the collar on myself?" she asked.

"No, but you can accompany my movement," Patrick replied. She laid her hands
on his and helped him to close the symbol of slavery around her black neck. She
stood up, turned her back on the crowd. As she crossed her hands behind her
back, her beautiful eyes were full of tears. Then she came to stand next to
Brittany and turned her back on the guard who was waiting for her. "What
dignity," I thought, admiring her grace and poise.

The coaches were more moderate in their reactions. Tears were the common
part for all of us. After the way the guards dealt with Brittany they preferred to
obey. The guards hadn't bruised her or caused visible markings but they'd
caused her a lot of pain - pain you could tell she was still feeling as she sobbed
and shook.

A guard took me by the elbow, like the others.

"We're going back to the pillory," said one of them.

"Okay, I'll go."

"Sir. Finish your sentences by sir, cunt," he said, slashing at my buttocks with
his strap.

"May I go unaccompanied, sir? I won't try to escape or cause trouble, sir," I

corrected.

"You better not try to escape," he said, slamming a ten-centimetre-long leather

strap into his hands.

I was terrified, but also more excited than I'd ever been in my life. I was naked,
tied up and at the mercy of these men. I was wondering what would happen to
us while in the stocks.

Walking with my hands behind my back was not very easy, especially when
going down the stairs, but I succeeded in doing it. I had a look back and I saw
that, except Brittany, we were all walking without the help of the guards. Sharp
pain on my buttocks called me to order quickly and made me scream with shock
and pain.

"Look ahead," the guard told me.

From time to time these slaps, followed by a giggle from the crowd, were heard.

I now understood the marks on Stephanie's body when I came to visit her after
she had lost in her competition. I had a thought for all losers, especially Lana. I
was about to know what they went through. I swallowed and tried to be brave.

The heat was rising in my stomach. As incongruous as it was, the situation was
very exciting to me. I had expected to be taken back to the cells after the
competition but they could only be taking us to the stocks to use us before we
were sold.

As soon as I was secure, I felt fingers slipping between my thighs then a cock
took me all the way. I was surprised how wet I was and then again by the cock
stuffed into my mouth. Being used by two men was a first for me but I tried to
apply myself and use my tongue to help stimulate the one in my mouth.

It wasn't long before I came and unlike my usual lovers they simply left without
a word and without any care for my burning need. The next just masturbated
himself in front of me and I could do little but accept his cum on my face and
that of his friends who followed. My humiliation was complete. Not only had they
completely degraded me but all my friends and colleagues would see this. There
would no doubt be a photographer and camera man from the paper recording
my ordeal for my replacement to write about.

When the next cock was deep inside me I contracted my vagina to help him
enjoy me. He wasn't that big but I could hear and feel that he appreciate my
effort.

"Hey, she's a natural this one. So good."

"She's milking you! Lucky bastard. I'm having another go." His friend joked.

Next up was my virgin ass.

"If you want me to lubricate, you have to be convincing darling, and think of
calling me, sir. Everyone is sir to you. Now you're just a piece of shit" that was
clear.

"Sir, take me in the ass. Please, sir!" I tried. He spread a little mixture of wet
and sperm on my anus.

"That's better, but if you want more lubricant you need to keep talking dirty
slut."

The other guards were laughing at my expense. This was only the beginning.

"Fuck me. Take me deep, like a bitch. Yes, sir." I understood the degrading
game he wanted to play.

"I'm your whore. Yes, to fuck. I'm your toy. A bitch in heat. Thank you for
fucking my ass, sir." It was one and then two fingers, and then deeper inside
me. It was very humiliating but I love it. I had to accept that I loved being used
like this in front of all these people.

I was enjoying being the center of attention and used like the slave I now was
but I started to worry about how painful and raw my pussy and ass felt. Then I
thought of Helena, and could only imagine how much pain she must be in as
they used her at least as roughly.

"It's over, we're taking them home!" said a voice in the distance. I was glad I
was saved by the bell.

I would have liked to talk to Helena. To Brittany too. I would have liked to
apologize to Alejandra. But I was soon alone in my cell, and I felt dirty after
what I had been through.

As the hairdresser later led me to the shower she asked me if it had been
difficult. It had but I think it was harder for Kimberly and Brittany than me. I
think if I'm honest my life had always been leading to this so I was better
prepared for it than they were.

I was then taken to see Patrick.

"I am delighted to be able to enjoy you in this outfit," he gloated.

"I don't doubt it," I said sarcastically.

"Get on your knees and offer me your pussy and ass. You're a slave now."
My mouth went dry and I obeyed, utterly humiliating myself for him.

"Head against the ground, Bridgett!" From the corner of my eye I saw the same
leather strap as those the guards used. Then it was in motion and hard. It really
hurt and even more so than when the guards had used it on me.

"You were a little bonus for the guards. They can be a little brutal sometimes but
I hear that you enjoyed it. Others suffered more than you," he said caressing my
throbbing clit.

"It's good to have learned that sexual excitement helps to bear the pain. I think
you'll need it as a slave." I sighed enjoying his touch, so it was a surprise when
the second blow landed.

"Ow!"

"Yes, we say Master or at least sir. Thank me for this lesson!"

I was outraged to have to thank him for what he did to me! I chose to thank him
for taking care of my clitoris, where his hand had returned.

"Thank you, Master."

"No, not like that. I want you on your knees looking at me submissively."

I put myself in position already missing his caress.

"Thank you, Master."

"Now sit on the floor, legs spread. Wider."

'What else?' I thought, but I was holding back from talking. My butt was more
than sore at this point.

"Yes, disobedient girls get a sore butt," he said laughing as he looked at me. I
had trouble holding his gaze so lowered my eyes.

"You're all wet. Masturbate yourself. Tickle that clitoris for me."

My eyes opened wide in shock and shame, but my hand obeyed and was rubbing
my clit at first shyly but soon with urgency and appetite. I closed my eyes and
started to moan.

"No, look at me!" he insisted.

As I approached orgasm, sustaining his gaze was terribly humiliating. In fact, I
felt his power over me. He was the one who decided for me, for an act that was
usually private. If he asked me to stop, I would have to obey, I thought. I was
afraid he was going to ask me to stop. He was going to see me come, see me in
this animal state. I was afraid he would make me stop. I was afraid he'd keep
me going.

At the time of the orgasm, I was hypnotized and grateful to my Master. He

looked at me for a long time until I caught my breath. It was my third orgasm as
a slave, and the three most powerful I have ever had in my life.

"Back on your knees slave and put these handcuffs on."

I took the handcuffs he was giving me and closed one of the loops around the
bandage on my wrist, and then I was about to do the same on the other side...

"No. Fasten them behind your back!"

God, how could I not have thought of that? It's much more difficult! But after
some effort, I succeeded. I was happy with myself, apparently so was he. Maybe
even a little too much. His big smile was starting to scare me. Then he opened
his fly. I understood, and I opened my mouth. I wasn't obedient, or resigned,
no, I was grateful. He let me have my pleasure; I owed him his. He didn't move.
I was waiting for his standing order, mouth open.

"Come to me. I want to watch you do it." I was surprised. After my experience in
the pillory, I had expected him to take me. But instead, he ordered me to move
to this uncomfortable position so I was precariously balanced. I took his sex in
my mouth. He didn't move at all; it was up to me to lick it with the tip of my
tongue. I didn't like the guards, but it had felt easier to submit to them. Now I
was being put to work. Shyly, I felt him harden in my mouth and as he grew I
grew in confidence too.

"Yes, you finally understand! There, yes. I like it very much. But, I think I will
especially appreciate not reading your articles in which you attack slavery,
calling it misogynistic. Look at you. You like to be controlled by men! Hmmm oh
yes, swallow it all. Save us the trouble of taking you back to the shower."

I was outraged but tried not to show it. Finally, he ejaculated down my throat.

"You were upset by the show, I can feel it. But I can also tell that you're quite
excited, so I will leave your handcuffs on for the night. So you won't hurt
yourself," he announced before leaving the room.
I was there, naked, handcuffed, on my knees. I felt desperate and excited. Soon
I understood that I wouldn't be able to masturbate. That was the purpose of the
handcuffs. I was a little offended but aware that this was the kind of thing I had
to learn to accept now.

The lying down position with handcuffs is not comfortable, and the fire that was
smoldering between my legs didn't allow me to fall asleep. I thought maybe
something would save me from being a slave. At the last minute, perhaps a
notary would come to say that the game was void. I was thinking about my first
few hours as a slave. I hadn't felt anything like that sexually before. Was I made
to be a slave? At the mercy of all these men I was particularly excited, and this
violent and uncomplicated sexuality particularly satisfied me. I wanted more. I
groaned in a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

Unable to sleep, I started to get up. Yes, with your hands behind your back, it's
difficult! Then I would get down on my knees and get up. I had read that slaves
had to wait on their knees, and often had their hands tied behind their backs.
These exercises would, therefore, be useful. They were also exhausting, and that
was one of the effects I wanted. Eventually I got exhausted and fell asleep.

The next morning came and I was awoken by the hairdresser's arrival.

"Your breakfast," said the hairdresser here to release me from my handcuffs.

"Thank you very much," I said with surprise. I was expecting dry bread and
water, but no, there were pastries, orange juice, and coffee. Not as luxurious an
offering as the day before, but better than I feared I would get.

"I was a little rough yesterday. I'm sorry. But usually, slaves complain when I
take them to the shower."

They have just been raped, I thought but didn't say anything because slaves
aren't people any more so don't have to give consent.

"Hmm, I didn't take the pill, and yesterday... well, I wouldn't want to be
pregnant," I said. She went through one of her pockets and handed me a pill
before leaving.

I was thinking back to the day before, and how I had let myself be manipulated.
The sex that I love is sweet and slow: a shared sensuality. I know how to enjoy
these orgies, but it was not me. I had to do something. Reality then struck me.
Slave, I had no right to do anything but to obey.

"Hello, Bridgett!" John greeted me as he entered my cell. "We will work on the
basic positions. Come."
There were Alejandra, Bridgett, Helena, Kimberly, all six of them. I was looking
at the red marks. Brittany was particularly marked. She must have despised me
and told herself that I lacked the character of not having defended myself more.
On my knees with my legs apart, my hands behind my back in the resting
position. Then I was standing with my legs apart, hands on my head, elbows up.
The last one was buttocks in the air and head on the ground. John would make
us move from one to the other by slamming his leather strap. No need to touch
us. The noise was enough to scare us!

When Patrick called, I noticed that time had passed quickly. There is nothing
better than exercise to avoid thinking. Maybe it was better that way.

On a table were five collars. I swallowed, and I thought about the notary. He
had to hurry because in a few moments a permanent collar would be closed
around my neck.

"Who wants to start?" We were looking at each other. We all had to want to be
naked neck for the arrival of the last-minute emissary. He wouldn't be coming.
My eyes caught Helena's, and I raised my hand as she raised hers.

"Bridgett, then Helena. Come here Bridgett." He put me in the standing position
as I had seen Alejandra do it the week before. He showed me the BRIDGETT
collar and I realized that that was it. I really am a slave now, forever. I put my
hands on my bowed head, holding my hair out of the way as he fastened the
slave collar around my neck.

I hadn't realized how heavy the collar was. He gave me a piece of cloth that I
passed between the collar and my skin so that I wouldn't be burned by the heat
released by the chemical reaction that sealed my future as a slave. Even if a
notary were to arrive now, this collar could no longer be removed. I couldn't
hold back my tears anymore. A hand rested on my shoulder without saying
anything. Our collars touched, hers had ALEJANDRA written on it.

"Sorry."

"Its life," Alejandra said sticking close to me for the last time before we were
sold.

Patrick was starting to put Helena's collar on. She let herself be collared, even if
the tears flowed before the collar was finished sealed.

Meanwhile, Kimberly took the opportunity to escape. She ran to the cells, and
the staircase we had entered the day before. There were noises and screams.
Then the guards returned carrying her. She was screaming, but held so tightly
she wasn't able to move anything but her vocal chords. It wasn't long until John
had collared us all and we were being taken back to our cells.

"Come here and show me what you can do." John said entering my cell and
lowering his pants. I came to kneel before him, before even seeing the leather
strap in his hand. I opened my mouth and leaned towards him so I could take
him in my mouth.

"No, kiss it. Play with it. Use your hands!" The day before Patrick seemed to
prefer without. I took his testicles in one hand, his sex in the other. I was moved
by the warmth. I could feel his heart beating. I kissed the end that protruded
from my hand, and like a little animal, I felt it move. His sex was still unfolding.
The heat was rising in my lower abdomen. I realized a little late how excited I
was. I licked the tip that protruded from my hand by modulating the pressure of
my hand and massaging his balls. He was swinging back and forth, closing his
eyes. The feeling of being used turned into a feeling of handling him, I had the
remote control in my hands. Even if the pleasure was for him, I had a certain
satisfaction. I still feared his dissatisfaction, and gradually my hand was exposed
to make his sex gradually enter my mouth. I was playing with him,
accompanying his pendulum movement. I was moving forward when he was
moving back and vice versa, and I noticed that he was correcting himself. I
smiled inwardly at the power that I, as a slave, had over this man who had to
tame me. Then I thought about the act. I was thinking about what had
happened the day before and the very morning, and I was starting to move
forward and backwards to slide his candy cane between my lips. I came towards
him by positioning my tongue so that his stick would come to rest on a tender,
warm and wet surface. Of course, I would have benefited more from it if his
piston movements had been among my other lips but this was a lesson in
learning my place. A lesson he reinforced by putting his hands on my head to
force me to take all of him deep down my throat. I was choking even before he
accelerated the rhythm but I wanted to do this.

"Try to swallow. Most masters appreciate it and it avoids having to go back to

the shower," he says between his growls of pleasure. Then there was his tremor,
which heralded the start of his ejaculation. It is not the quantity that is the
problem in swallowing, it is the high frequency of the jets. In spite of my lack of
skill he congratulated me on my effort and left my cell. There the impression of
control evaporated and only the feeling of having been used remained.

My favourite beautician arrived quickly afterwards with sandwiches. It must have

been around noon. The time of the sale was approaching. Was I going to be
drugged like the others?

"Are they drugging us for the sale?"

"Don't worry. Don't worry. It's me who'll prepare you."

That's what worried me. Usually, when someone tells me not to worry I worry. I
worry because usually there is something to worry about. I was hungry, but
swallowing my sandwich was impossible.

Once again, the windowless cell did not allow me to get an idea of the time that
was passing. So I had the impression that a lot of time had passed when she
came back. I was very nervous.

"If you haven't been to the bathroom, I encourage you to do so, and then we'll
go. I'll handcuff you."

"In front of you? Are we going to the sale?"

"Yes in front of me. You are a slave now. No, you have a little time before, I'll
prepare you. I know it's difficult but I'll help you."

She took me to the same hairdresser's salon.

"What size are you?" she asked pulling out a pair of black heels. I thought my
heart was going to pass through my breast. I was trying on the shoes. She
offered me a bigger pair, but finally, we stayed on that initial pair. Then she
attached a kind of leash to my collar but this one was rigid not flexible. I had
seen it on the slaves in previous sales.

"This is to guide you, especially if the collar is mounted because it means there
is a step in front of you." I didn't know what to say. Why would anyone need to
tell me there's a step in front of me?

"Would you like some gum? Chewing helps to relax."

I obeyed.

Then she had me in the chair. And immediately she pulled a strap around my
chest to hold me securely in place.

"It's so I don't hurt you if you move." I was a little shocked, but as I relaxed she
pulled a second belt around my head.

"I know that you feel this as an assault," she says. She held my eyelids open
with the fingers of one hand while using the other to put a lens on my eye. I
blinked, and before I knew it, she had done the same with the second eye.

"But..." I tried without being able to articulate.

"This gum has an anaesthetic effect. You won't be able to talk for a few hours,
and yes, lenses are opaque. That's why you'll be guided." I tried to open my
eyes, but I stayed in the dark. The anguish was growing up inside me.

She untied me and guided me with the leash and with her voice. I had to trust
her completely. Hands behind my back, with high heels and without seeing
anything, I was completely helpless. Straight ahead, not a little to the right, now
up some steps... It seemed pretty intuitive to me, but very scary. We had soon
left the salon and I was left to wait close to where I was to be sold.

"Don't move, you'll just hurt yourself. You'll be on in three minutes," she
explained pushing in earplugs so I was completely isolated. I felt so lost and
scared and so guilty for what I had done to Alejandra too. I had known this was
a likely fate for me and accepted the risks but Alejandra was now going from a
Mistress who loved her to an unknown and undoubtedly worse fate.

It seemed an age before the leash pulled me forward. 'I'm next'. Then there
were three steps, then a turn. Was I in the salesroom? Certainly, I now
understood the remarkable passivity of the slaves I'd seen in this place. I could
vaguely hear voices, perhaps bids, but I didn't understand them. There was a
blow, probably the hammer, and I was guided backwards, back down the steps
where the hairdresser removed the lenses then ear-plugs.

"You're not staying with us," the hairdresser told me.

"And Alejandra?" I tried to say without success as my throat was too dry to get
the words out.

"Your coach was also sold, but not to the same company."

'A company. I had been bought by a company?' I thought. My head was

spinning. What kind of company? A brothel? Also, some big companies were
buying their reception staff. Naked waitress bars too...

John took my leash and lead me outside still naked and in heels with my hands
cuffed behind my back. The fresh air was wonderful but also reminded me of my
nakedness. He opened a door and pushed me into a car. John closed the door
and passed the handcuff key to the driver who started the engine. I risked a
quick glance at the driver and was shocked to recognize Ben.

The newspaper editor was there next to me. I was babbling a little bit.

"Yes, the newspaper bought you. I wanted you to write the end of your series of
articles," he said. I was speechless at first, then I reacted. "Can you take me to
the newspaper?"
"In this outfit, you would make a sensation?"

"I... I have nothing left."

"Didn't you ever send me that?" I was looking at that paper he gave me. I was
seeing it for the first time. I had given all my belongings to the newspaper a
week ago. My signature was not very well forged. Ben's, on the other hand, was
correct.

"Did you make a fake?"

"No, not me."

"Alejandra?" I realized how much I owed her, and I was ashamed of myself for
committing to this stupid bet.

"Yes. She was sold to a birthing clinic to work as a midwife." I was relieved to
hear she would be able to work at a 'normal' job rather than as a sex slave.

"You couldn't..."

"It was too expensive, but I was able to contact common friends in time. You will
go there, to do an article on how free people and slaves work together."

"And Brittany?"

"Her father bought her."

"If I understand correctly, I'm working for the newspaper again?"

"You belong to the newspaper. It must make its investment profitable." If it was
a joke, he didn't make me laugh. But I would get my clothes from when I went
to SGL, my papers, my keys, from the back of his car and he would drop me off
in front of my apartment. I was on my way home relieved. I decided to take a
bath and then go to bed. I had a thought for Alejandra who had been smarter
than I had.

The next morning, I realized that my car, finally the one the newspaper was
making available to me, now was in front of SGL, so I decided to take the bus to
the newspaper.

Finding an outfit that would go with the collar was not very easy, but in the end,
I was satisfied and glad that this slavery story turned out that way. I took a light
step into the street to the bus ticket machine to buy a one-way ticket book. For
a moment I wondered if slaves were not entitled to a reduced rate. But soon
enough I was disappointed:

"Card invalidated," the machine declared to me.

"Normally slaves don't have credit cards," a lady told me. I felt uncomfortable
realizing that my status was obvious due to the collar. I was looking at her.

"Slaves have no bank account. You've been a slave how long?" she asked.

"Since yesterday... I have to go to work..." I said.

"You have to pay in cash, or I'll give you a ticket," a man said. I was relieved
and went to thank him.

"Thank me another way, instead," he waved at me and showed me his fly.

"Well, I..." I was trying to get out of this situation...

"And you don't obey a free person?" the woman said to me. I suddenly realized
that, as a slave, I had to obey if I wanted to avoid public punishment. So I
bowed down, knelt before the man and did it. For a bus ticket, I had to suck him
and swallow his seed. When I got up, my stockings were ruined. My life as a
slave would not be as easy as I thought if every time I interact with free people,
I would have to obey them. The bus ride was difficult, I couldn't digest the
sperm I had just swallowed. Besides, my pantyhose were destroyed when I had
to get on my knees. What was going to happen when I arrived at the
newspaper? Everyone could ask me what they wanted. I burst into tears. I didn't
realize then what other slaves lives were really like.

Once at the newspaper, I would go to Ben's office and tell him about my
journey.

"Yes, your accounts have been closed and the content has been put in the
newspaper," Ben told me more seriously. He was speaking of my savings, my
retirement savings.

"What about my salary?"

"You belong to the newspaper. Eventually, you could work elsewhere and the
newspaper would receive money." It took me a while to realize. Yet when I was
receiving Alejandra's salary it didn't shock me so much.

"Okay, Bridgett, I understand, but you can use your car."

"I left it at SGL."

"But no, they brought it in front of the newspaper. Come on, pull yourself
together, and try to find out who bought slaves, and try to question them.
You're going to do an article on SGL's losers."

Before I got in my car, I called SGL and was told that the list of the latest sales
would be available to me. So I took my car and went back to that place. When I
arrived I had goosebumps. I was asked to wait until somebody called for me.

"I was wondering if it would be you!" said the hairdresser. "Come on, I've
prepared a file for you." Indeed, a clutch bag was placed on the table of the
room in which we had just arrived.

"It's going to be okay. You think you can to be both a reporter and a slave?" she
asked.

"I think so..." Actually I didn't know.

"I admire you, you have courage. I prefer to hide here. Outside too many people
abuse us. Say it in your..." She was interrupted by Patrick's entry

"I didn't think I'd see you anymore. Your outfit is cute, but it's not a slave's one.
Undress!" The other slave waved at me to obey, and I did, finding myself naked
again in front of him.

"Lie down on the table." I was getting on the table. So was he. I was terrified
but excited too. I thought that this time I wasn't going to be used for the sole
pleasure of a free man. He made me lie down, then he came to ride on me. I
was surprised at first, but soon enough his intentions were clear. He slipped his
sex between my breasts. I had never done that before. He squeezed my breasts.
Then he stirred back and forth. I was amused to see the sex tip appear and
disappear between my globes. The feeling on my chest was not unpleasant. I
looked up and held out my tongue to manage to touch the tip of his love stick.
The position amused me, and I played it. Touching the tip with my tongue was
not so easy, because I had to lift my head up. Apparently, he liked it too, and he
exploded right in my face. When he came down from the table I had his seed on
my breasts and face. I was disgusting. And I guessed I'd have to leave soon. He
left the room.

The slave took my hand and led me into the bathroom.

"Take a shower, you'll get better after" she was shaking her butt.

"Thank you"
"Can I? Wash you?"

I looked at her and I accepted. I adjusted the water temperature. I took a step,
she turned around and left her dress drop to the floor. She turned her back to
me, dropped her panties and showed me her perfectly waxed buttocks. Then she
came back to me. She kissed me on the mouth, rubbing her breasts against
mine. She put soap on her skin, then came to me and rubbed herself against
me.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time," she said. Thank you for letting me do
this."

"What's your name?"

"Carmen," she told me when she came to suckle my breasts. Then her fingers
touched my sex. She hurt me, pulling my womanhood like never before. By the
time I reacted, an unexpected orgasm struck me. I took her in my arms and
stroked her chest, then I smoothed my fingers.

"Squeeze my clitoris between two fingers while slapping it sharply," she told me.
It took me three tries!

"It's a trick," she laughed as she came out of the still sloping shower of that
flash orgasm.

When I left, it seemed to me that she had added something to the files.

A while later I was at the newspaper reading the files. I did indeed have the
addresses of the different buyers. But how to go and see them without being
abused every time?

I was looking at the second file. It was something else: photos, accounting
documents. I realized that Carmen had asked me to come and see her after my
crucifixion twice. She had a file for me. But in the euphoria of my victory, I
didn't do it the first time. It was becoming late.

"Bridgett, I'm sorry about what's happening to you," Louis told me before he
left.

"Do you want to take me before you leave?" I asked him. He had the right to do
so.

"No, no, actually, I've wanted to invite you for a long time, but I didn't dare.
Would you like to have dinner with me?" I was unfair to him.
"Before I would have refused at least once, and I would have kept you waiting
before spending the night with you. Now it's easier. I can't say no anymore. But
it is with pleasure that I accept."

He had found an original and friendly restaurant. In his company, I was safe and
I could relax. After the meal, he offered me a ride home. I was a little
disappointed that he didn't ask me to come to his house. I realized that my
answer must have made him uncomfortable.

"You don't want to go up?" I insisted one last time as we arrived. He was really
confused. I had to insist again that he come home.

"I didn't want you to think I would do it just for that..." he answered as he went
with me.

"If it was, you would have asked me to do it at the paper. And for once I want to
do it with someone who feels something for me," I reassured him by rubbing up
against him. He seemed to like it, because he kept playing this game, and let me
undress him. All he had left was an undergarment. I exchanged roles, and took
off my clothes in turn. I was a little disappointed with the bump in his crotch.
Was he hard, and then I would be disappointed or wasn't I exciting him?

And then, I remembered that Carmen gave me an emergency pill: "I'm going to
the bathroom", I said to take my periods into account. A sanitary tampon later I
came back to him.

I felt uncomfortable with him, indeed he wasn't hard. I wasn't panicking, and I
tried a blowjob. No effect. I was frustrated. What was he thinking? He must have
thought I was a nymphomaniac or a horny bitch. He was also frustrated, I felt it.

"I'm sorry,"

"So am I."

"I need your protection. As a slave, I no longer have any rights," I fell on the
bed, crying. He snuggled up against me.

"I'll be there if you want." It made my heart warm, and we stayed together like
that for an hour or two. Then he moved like he was uneasy. I appreciated his
warmth. This naughty evening would finally be a big hug. But there against my
buttock, I felt something very hot, and a little hard! I bit my lip and lowered my
hand. It was a generous size. I wrapped it with my fingers. He moaned. I was
kissing him. I was slipping in to give him a blowjob.
"I don't want to force you."

"Do I look like I'm being forced?" He was uncomfortable. I was afraid he would
lose his erection again.

"You don't prefer something more reciprocal?" he proposed. I smile at him.

"I have my periods. But, you can go around back?" I suggested.

"Doggy style?"

"No, really behind," his eyes opened, his sex swelled. I was sure he liked the
idea.

"But it's going to hurt you!"

"Less than when it's the guards on the day of the crucifixion."

"My god!"

"My devil," I responded in a piecemeal way. He was laughing. While I was

playing with his sex, he would brush my anus with lubricant, then I came to sit
on him. I was thinking about the cross. But this time I was in control. I was
putting my weight on his stick. I felt it rearing up, and gradually opening up to
me. I was moving from right to left to help.

I felt myself opening up little by little to make room for him. When the head
came inside me, I was screaming. I made a pause until I got used to it. Then I
pressed again, and he entered, he slips into me. I let him do the work and he
was gentle but so excited. He blew. I thought he liked it, and so did I. I felt it
wriggling. I accelerated. I was losing my senses. He grunted. He grunted a lot.
Eventually, he slipped better, he had filled my bowels. I sank on him and I too
was coming. And I'd sneak up on him.

Later I would take over my file while he was asleep. I was writing down the
content. I was looking on the Internet. I was thinking of those who are my slave
brothers and sisters. Then I took the other file. And then I didn't understand any
more.

This file was different. It was bank statements, photos.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. They slipped this into my documents at SGL."

"You want me to look at the account statements I'm used to, here look it's a
bank in the Bahamas." He was asking me, but he was already taking the file
from me.

"And the picture, look, it's a rope with orange streaks."

"Yes, and there are needles like the ones I had in my wrist," I said. My heart
was tightening. What the hell was that?

"Do you have pictures of the crucified ones?"

"No, but on the Internet, we will find that."

The next day I decided to meet Andrew and the gay couple who bought him. On
the phone they were charming and I decided to go alone and let Louis do his
research on the accounts.

"Hello, I'm sorry, I wanted to do a survey on slaves."

"Yes, we read your articles. We were very touched by the case of Stephanie, and
the other abused slaves, but you know, some Masters take care of their slaves,"
one of them told me.

"For example, Andrew was not gay. Did you have him trained?"

"We discussed it with him. As long as he behaves well, we don't, but if he tries
something, we will. We do not agree with the techniques used by these
organizations. In fact, we would like to be an example of ethical slavery," the
other told me.

"Andrew wasn't gay when you bought him," I objected.

"We offered him a chance to try for a month. We explained to him what we
wanted, and why we had bought him. If he didn't agree, we would claim to get
our money back. He would be sold once again. For the moment he seemed
happy to stay with us" they looked into each other's eyes.

"In addition, we share him on this Internet platform, you know Air-Slav. And so
every week he spends some time with a mistress who rents him to us. He gets
some heterosexuality like that," the second added.

Andrew came and knelt when he saw us.

"Hello, Mrs Bridgett,"

"But no, she's a slave too. How silly he is," laughed one of the masters.

"We make him wear this black latex outfit. It's beautiful on his skin, isn't it? But
he can't take it off. Even to urinate he must ask us,"

Indeed, he wore a latex suit. A zipper started from his belly button and went up
to his back. On each side, there was a padlock. The material molded him and
made all the muscles I had seen in his cell just before he was sold stand out
beautifully. His sex also left a print in the latex.

"We're leaving you both alone, but no games, ok?"

Andrew would rather have stayed with this couple. In fact, they had bought a
human sex toy, but they took care of it in their own way. Andrew seemed to be
satisfied with it. He even blushed when he told me he didn't want to leave them.
When I asked him about the outfit and the fact that it was closed, he laughed
and told me that it gave him breaks. I had a thought for this couple; I had
already tested Andrew's sex. They had made a good choice. My mouth watered
when I left them, perhaps not only my mouth.

My next visit was for my slave, Alejandra. She worked as a midwife in a

company near the hospital where she used to work. As I arrived, my heart
tightened: The facility was more like a prison.

"Are you all right?" I asked her.

"Yes, I follow more pregnancies than childbirth, but I'm fine," she told me. I
wasn't sure about that. Her eyes were avoiding me. Her tone wasn't the one she
had before.

"Who are the people who are here? Are they difficult pregnancies?"

"No, not at all. They are slaves. There are only slaves, doctors, midwives, and
patients." There was a tear in her eye. I was thinking of Ben's idea of an article
on interactivity between free people and slaves.

"Pregnant slaves? It's strange, isn't it?" I asked. She looked at me. I felt she
thought I was stupid or something like that. Obliviously there was something I
did not understand. She took a break before replying.

"No, Bridgett. That is what we are doing here: It's a baby factory."

"I'm sorry?" I was not sure I heard what she said.

"We are regularly impregnated by customers or other slaves with interesting

genetic properties. Then our pregnancies are monitored. And the children are
sold." She said with a tear in her eye.

"But and you, you're here to monitor the pregnant slaves?"

She opened her gown to show me a chastity belt.

"Not yet, they're waiting for my ovulation day. I wore this so they are sure I
would be desperate to cum. It also ensures they know who the father is."

"But aren't you here as a midwife?"

"Yes, that too."

I left her and returned to the newspaper. I was shocked by what I had seen.

"Louis, we must denounce what slavery is!"

"Bridgett, we need to talk about this, but so far I've been looking at SGL's
accounts. I would like to meet Stephanie and Bill. Do you think it's possible?"

"Are you ready for a naughty night out?" His smile answered for him.

Half an hour later we were in the Dancing Pink Flamingo.

"The atmosphere is curious, isn't it?" Louis asked me. I felt comfortable in my
short skirt. All the waitresses wore a collar like mine.

"What can I get you?" one of them asked us.

"A Pina-cola-da for me, and a whisky for him," I replied. We talked about this
earlier.

"I'm sorry. I can't take order with alcohol for a slave. But perhaps, Sir wants
both drinks?" asked the waitress in a curious voice.

"Yes, very well," replied Louis, visibly annoyed.

I was amused to see these very scantily dressed waitresses, and especially to
see the naked dancers. All were slaves. Belonging to the club, they were staying
here according to the information I had taken. As for the rules on alcohol not
being sold to slaves, they had to be controlled.

The waitress gave us our drinks. She put mine being halfway between Louis and
me. And all of a sudden as I was looking at her collar, I recognized the name
engraved into it.

"Bill? you're Bill" The waitress looked at me, and in a deeper voice confirmed
what I had guessed. But she was soon to dance, and she offered to receive us in
her dressing room.

We were talking while observing the club. Many lonely men were accompanied
by slaves. Did they all belong to the club? Louis suddenly asked me if I would
like him to slide his hand between my legs. Some men did much more daring
things. I simply replied that as a slave, I had no right to oppose it. He did not
dare. I was amazed by his reaction. I liked him so much.

Bill's dance surprised us. At no time could we have guessed that she was a man.
I was telling Louis how afraid Bill was of being feminized before he was sold.

Once it was finished, we would go backstage.

"Bill? No Betsy! Her dressing room is here, but she has a fan right now, so wait,"
we were told. The sounds coming from the dressing room were explicit. Bill must
have liked this fan according to Louis.

A man came out of the dressing room, and Bill was still naked, he asked us for a
minute before he opened us again. Condoms and bank notes confirmed what I
thought. Bill was a prostitute. However, this allowed him to have cash I
supposed, the only kind of money slaves can use.

"Do you know the Blue Bayou?" Louis asked immediately.

"It's the restaurant across the street from mine. At least from the one who was
mine..."

"Did you had some news about it"

"I was the chief you know. For a restaurant losing its chief, it's beginning from
zero again."

We left Bill/Betsy and Louis told me on the way out that the owner of this
restaurant had paid $15,000 into an account related to Patrick Saint Andrew a
few days before the show where Bill had lost. Bill's wrist rope had orange dots
on it, but not the others. Strings like these can be seen in the pictures of
Stephanie's feet or my wrist for my second crucifixion. It is the same string
shown on the pictures given by Carmen.

"There were needles in the strings of my wrist, Alejandra saw them too," I
confirmed.
"Slaves' testimonies do not count," Betsy said bitterly.

After the Pink Flamingo, I was taking Louis to the S4S, "Slaves for Slaves", a
discreet club. Had I not the address we wouldn't have found it.

"You want a session for two?" asked one of the hostesses.

"Is it possible to meet Stephanie?"

"Of course, Sir you will test your handcuffs," she said, charging us.

"She's a slave again," Louis slipped me.

"Of course, low-paid, degrading jobs are for slaves, they can't complain."

"And the people who had her jobs?" he replied.

"They lose their jobs and become slaves, so they are no longer paid."

As we entered the room. A whip cracked in front of Louis' nose.

"On your knees, you!" the young woman said. She was dressed in a mini skirt
and a black leather bra. Her pointed heels marked her dominatrix game. The
only fausse note was her slave collar. 'Stephanie' was written.

Louis hesitated, and she hit him in the thigh, yelling at him with a scream.

"So obey, you larvae! And what is the natural position of a slave?" She screamed

We knelt down on our knees.

"I would just..." Louis began.

"...That I smash your bullets like I crack nuts?" Stephanie continued. I was
surprised at the girl's violent language.

"No, no..." Louis continued.

"So you shut up, worm, and undress, staying on your knees," she demanded,
slamming her whip.

"And you, I must train you, because your master is too weak to do it himself?"
she asked me.

"Not exactly..." my sentence was cut by the whack of a whip.

"I don't care, you get rid of your clothes, and fast. You shouldn't even be
dressed, Grandma."

"Well, what about you? It takes you a while, you will feel my whip for every
minute lost." Louis lost his calm, and mixed in his buttons, he was so emotional.
For my part, I wanted to laugh, but the whip was very real, and I didn't want to
taste it.

Once I was naked, Stephanie examined my body and from the handle of her
whip she pointed out the marks I had left from my sales preparation. As I recall,
she had more.

"There's a horse there, in position," she said to me. She would help me, then
she tied my ankles and wrists to the horse's feet so that my buttocks would be
in the air, my legs spread. I was glad there were only the three of us. A normal
position for a slave, certainly, but I hadn't yet got used to it. She then asked me
to hold something in my mouth. It took me a few moments to realize that it was
a cane.

Meanwhile, Louis had finished undressing. She pointed at his sex with her whip.

"I didn't mean to say so well when talking about worms, you're really
undersized!" She laughed. It is true that Louis was not showing himself at his
best.

"Show me what you're doing with your tongue," she added, sitting on the horse
next to me after lifting her skirt. She put the whip before my eyes and took the
cane and used it to caress Louis' back.

"You're the journalist. Curiosity is a bad thing, right? Did you end up a slave
yourself?"

"Yes, Stephanie..."

"Mistress! I have this privilege as a slave to be able to be called that, I take

advantage of it! Hmm, keep going, the worm."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Well... it'll be a blow on the butt per question... Because you came back to ask
me questions," she laughed. I was hoping for an intervention from Louis.

"I'm the one who..." The whip whistled.

"You're scrambling me!"

"I... We wanted to know if you knew Brittany's father, or if your parents knew
him?" I risked.

"That's two questions! I saw her once at a party at her house, where she took
advantage of the fact that I had been drinking to make me take that stupid bet.
My father works in the tax department, I think he controlled Brittany's father,
but I didn't know that before the bet. You're not doing so bad, the worm... push
out your tongue more."

"You are well treated here?" I asked.

"I'm a whore, you see. But at least I'm getting back at my customers, umm yes,
the worm, like that, and the tips are for me. The company houses me and feeds
me. I'm punished if the customers are unhappy, or if I don't take enough of
them, hmmm yes!"

Was she faking it, or did Louis make her come?

But very quickly she sent him back to the back of the room and put him in
handcuffs. Then she grabbed a cane and showed it to me at length.

"Three strokes or you have more questions." I was squeezing my ass and hoping
she wouldn't dare.

"No, Mistress, please." I tried.

"What I would like, four blows without further questions," she said smiling

"Stephanie, stop now," tried Louis.

"You tell me what to do, the worm! I'll warm your bottom next, and it'll be four
for the bitch of a journalist."

The whistle preceded the sound of the wooden rod on my butt. It was with a
strange delay that the pain went up, and I heard myself yelling. She was not
easy on me.

I had just kept quiet and recovered that the whistle came back. I was screaming
in fear before I was even touched. The pain was still there.

She slipped her hand between my open thighs.

"You're a wet little whore. You like to get your ass full of it, don't you? And you,
the worm, did you know she liked it?"

Then she went back to work and continued to draw a third, then a fourth red line
on my butt.

I was thinking about what we were told at the entrance.

"Louis, the handcuffs, take them off."

"But how? Oh, yes, yes"

Louis got up and stopped Stephanie's arm.

"Oh, sir, have mercy on your slave," she said, changing her behaviour.

"But..."

"Take me, to calm you down!" I realized Louis was erect. Was it to see me
beaten by Stephanie? Anyway, she got down on her knees and started sucking
on him, he took his hair and started fucking her face. At that time I wanted him
inside me, and he was taking care of Stephanie.

"Louis, please!"

"Ah uh, untie her," he ordered,

"Hmm, she rather wants your imposing stake, Sir," Stephanie said and she
guided his sex towards me. She spat on my ass to lubricate, and she led the
turgid sex towards my little hole.

"Uh, Ahh" I shouted. But in his haste he penetrated me, yelling out a cry of pain.
I was barely ready.

He was so excited, my screams didn't change anything, he was fucking me.

Little by little the pain turned into pleasure, and I growled in my offered position
and finally, he came into me. Stephanie laughed and came behind me. She put
her hands on the red zebras, then slipped on my buttocks, lips and clitoris,
which she pinched.

I was screaming in pain, she caressed me and made me come without me being
able to control myself.

It took us a few moments to recover from our emotions and return home. To
take stock of the investigation: I could no longer sit down, and there were
reasons why Bill and Stephanie were "helped" to lose. We had proof of payment.
We also had the motives.

The next day we went to the police station to drop off our items. They confirmed
that this was enough to launch investigations. For our part, we informed them of
our intention to publish in this article.

"And now what?" Louis asked me.

"I would like to apologize to Lana. She was bought by a farm. Agricultural work
must be difficult. Will you come with me?"

"I am at your command, Mistress!"

It was about an hour from the city. There were only fields left. The GPS indicated
two farms. Lana had been bought by the smaller one.

"Look, what is it?" Louis asked me.

"My God, they're women, dressed in black and white, like cows!"

Where were we? Had Lana been turned into a cow?

The car stopped in front of the farmhouse, and we were on our way to the
reception when a woman came towards us.

"Welcome to the new human farm."

I didn't understand the term "human" in a good way, I think when I saw Lana's
purchaser.

"What do you want to do, train your new slave?"

Louis looked at me. He wanted to tell me something.

"I wonder, yes!" he said. I was outraged before I understood the strategy he
wanted to use.

"How do you see her, as a cow, as a pony, as a dog?"

" I don't know exactly yet. I thought you could show us around?"

"I'm sorry, I can't walk a slave through the estate. However, it won't take long
to make a pretty little dog out of her for the duration of the visit. That way you'll
have an idea of how we do it."
"Perfect!" How could he say that?

Cathy let me into one of the buildings and got me undressed. She then asked
me to put on a brown jumpsuit. I was rather uncomfortable when I noticed that
this suit had holes between the legs and chest. As a slave, protesting would
have been unacceptable. I was putting on the suit. It was clearly reinforced at
the elbows and knees. Cathy approached my back and closed the zipper while I
noticed that the sleeves ended in mittens.

"Yes, you won't need your fingers, or even your hands," she said.

"Anyway, you couldn't reach. Come on, get on that table, on all fours." It was a
coffee table. I was quite uncomfortable because on all fours my genitals were
exposed, and my chest was hanging. She grabbed a foot and tied it to my thigh.
Then she did the same on the other side.

"How long have you been a slave?"

"Since the day before yesterday"

"Oh, you're very obedient, but this recent correction may have something to do
with it. We're going to move on to the front legs," she said, passing her hand
over the red stripes that Stephanie left me. She took my hand and folded it over
my shoulder, and tied it there.

"Please?"

"Yes," she said, doing the same thing on the other side.

"I'm not going to be able to walk like that!"

"Of course you will! We even train our dogs to jump and run like that! Of course,
for you will walk!" she said.

She pinched my nose, I opened my mouth, and she put a ball gag in it.

"Little bitches don't talk, and they obey," she said, putting a mask in the shape
of cocker spaniels muzzle on my face. Then she showed me a whip: "Otherwise."

Then she hung a leash on my slave collar. She pulled forward.

"There is an inclined plane so that you can go down, then with practice, you will
be able to go down without it."

I moved one leg after the other in movements that were difficult to coordinate.
But Cathy wasn't getting impatient. However, my leash was tight.

"Is she having trouble?" Louis asked.

"It's difficult, especially at first. But you made a very good purchase, it seems to
me, because she didn't try to fight it. It will be easier for her.

Cathy took Louis by the arm and showed him the different buildings.

"In front of you are the horse's stables. To the left are the cow's stables and to
the side the kennels."

I wanted to scream, these are human beings who are there!

"You don't find it dehumanizing?" Louis asked.

"This is what our customers are looking for in their acquisitions."

Here I was no longer even a slave, just an acquisition!"

"Do you have your own... animals or only those of your customers?"

"Oh, both. The cows are ours, and we market their milk. The other anilaves
belong to our customers; except for a few that we bought and sold. Would you
like to see our latest acquisition? It's a pony: Lana."

I had trouble listening and moving at the same time.

"Oh, look at your dog. She tries to follow our conversation while walking. You
see, she's doing it well. You should give her to us for a few days."

'Oh, no, Louis, please,' I thought

"Why not, but maybe not right now!"

The jumpsuit was well done because the reinforcements in the elbows and knees
allowed me to walk without pain. On the other hand, I was totally forced. It was
impossible for me to get up or talk.

Cathy led us to the horse's stables. We entered the building that was originally
dedicated to real horses.

There were two ponies in stalls. They were standing with their hands tied behind
their backs with their wrists against their elbows. They were dressed in black
latex, with blinders.
"Are all your 'anilaves' dressed in latex?"

"Oh no, but leather is more expensive, so many masters are satisfied with latex.
It's good too, you know."

"You're good too, good dog," she said, tapping my head like you do for a dog. It
was very humiliating. At the same time, I was able to synchronize my front legs
with my hind legs, and the leash was less tight.

We went out on the other side of the building, to see several ponies running on a
track.

"Look, Lana's here, in a few weeks we train her like that!"

She was there in front of us. She wore a black leather corset. Laces passed
between her legs, but her slit was visible to everyone, well mine was too. The
corset supported and highlighted her breasts. In the back, there were two tubes
for her arms. She also wore a hood with blinkers. In her mouth, she had a bit,
like a real horse. To see better I supported my front legs to straighten up. She
also wore an anal plug with a horse tail coming out of it. Her shoes were shaped
like a hoof and forced her to walk on her toes.

"Oh, look at your bitch, she's really acting like a dog. It's natural for her." Then
she started talking to me, resting my paws on the ground.

"Huh, the good doggy dog, but you don't lean on the fence, otherwise, the
spanking" and she gave me some soft spanks on my buttocks. I was lowering
my head.

"Oh, she's so cute," Cathy cried.

For a moment I envied Lana, the pony was so much slimmer than bitches like
me. She had an ease that seemed natural to me.

On the track, Lana seemed tired. She was slowing down a little.

"Lana, we keep the rhythm," said a coach and the whip slammed, Lana had a
little scream and accelerated. I think I'd rather be a good doggy dog.

"Do you think I can talk to her?" Louis asked.

Cathy looked at him. She was probing him.

"Normally anilaves don't talk. But I'll see if she's having a break."
I was yapping at Louis while Cathy was away.

"Yes, Bridgett, I suspect it must be humiliating, but I think we have to go

through this" he said, patting my head. I groaned and nodded.

"She has worked well, her trainer is willing, but no more than 5 minutes, no bad
habits are needed, meanwhile I take care of your dog." She took my leash and
led me to a sandy area. I was looking at Louis. Lana was approaching him,
probably surprised that her bit had been removed.

"Come on Bridgett, the ground is soft; if you fall you won't hurt yourself. Try
walking fast and then running. No, don't look at your master; now you have to
obey me, otherwise, you know what's going to happen."

Walking fast was a little difficult; finally, I was able to do it.

"Come on, let's run now, push on your legs!" That was another thing to do.

"It's hard, but since you've done a good job, we're going to play." I didn't want
to play, I wanted to talk to Lana. I was looking at Louis. He was showing me to
Lana.

"Come on, look at the plastic bone, Bridgett, go get it!" she said, untying my
leash, and she was throwing the dog toy. Do I need to describe how I felt? I was
walking to fetch it.

"What the hell is this lazy bitch! Come on, let's run and pick it up."

With the muzzles how to do it? I pushed it out of my nose, then I missed it by a
mile. It locked itself into the fake dog mouth. I was actually quite relieved not to
have to take it in my mouth!

"Your master is finished," Cathy told me as she clipped my leash. Louis was
joining us.

Take her on a leash, she said. And he was the one who walked me back to the
reception.

She put me back on the table by the inclined plane.

"An hour and a half and she almost doesn't need that anymore."

I was relieved when the suit opened. I had some ants in my arms and legs.
"Here are our rates, for canine and equine education." She said, giving Louis
complete documentation.

Once in the car, I would ask him, "So?"

"She doesn't understand how you could have made such a mistake. Anyway,
there's nothing we can do about it now. She thought you were a great bitch. So
do I by the way. I'll talk to the chief about it!" I was offended, but when I saw
Louis' phone, I noticed a message. [I'm so glad she'll get more training like this.
She's a great bitch.]

Patrick Saint Andrew was questioned at the police station, and he preferred to
admit the facts.

The rest of SGL's staff and slaves were still to be heard, but it was certain that a
trial would take place. I supposed that was good news. Of course, slavery is
final. None of us would get its freedom back.

The newspaper invested in a slave in the interest of its readers. However, this
investment is a major investment for our editorial staff, so those of our readers
who would like to rent it can contact the editor-in-chief.