Episode Transcript
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(00:08):
Hi, welcome to the latest episode of Mistress Mia's
Dungeon. I'm your Hostess, Mistress Mia,
and today I bring you Mistress Mia's bedtime stories.
Today I read from utopiastories.com, the Lifestyle
Farmer and Awakening. This is Part 3 and it begins.
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Malcolm and Christ continued to be an immense help to me.
Malcolm in particular seemed to have a huge range of contacts
within the group, as they calledit.
He had advertised my induction into its membership widely and
quite a few wish to make use of my skills.
Over the months I undertook various forms of work from
developing security software to acquiring hacked information and
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in return saved up future favors.
It constituted an initial stake in their dark and secret
society. Some of these people I met face
to face, but others were more secretive and communicated only
by encrypted e-mail. One of the most useful proved to
be Ken, who I met only a few months after that fateful
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afternoon at Malcolm and Chris'sfarm.
He had specifically asked to meet me and Malcolm had invited
him to stay for the weekend for that purpose, much to the
annoyance of Chris who made a range of faces and complaints
about being quote UN quote the dullest yet most annoying man on
the planet as he called him Malcolm.
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Chris and I were standing in their lounge 1 sunny autumn
evening, sipping wine and looking out over the darkening
landscape when the buzzer of theintercom rang.
Ken had just arrived at their gate a mile or so down the lane.
Few minutes later we were standing in the yard when a
large car drew up. The door opened and Ken got out
and stretched his arms extravagantly.
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He wasn't a large man, a few good inches shorter than me and
skinny to boot, with a thin neckand a hollow chest.
Scrawny was the first word whichsprang into my head when he
stepped out of his car. He wore tan chinos and a short
sleeve white shirt which seemed to hang from his frame.
His hair was receding, thin and greasy, and his skin was sallow
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and unhealthy looking, as if he'd been released from a long
stint in prison. He was probably about the same,
just me, but could have been anything up to 20 years older.
All in all, he was not an impressive physical specimen.
Hello again, Malcolm and Chris. He said as he crossed the yard,
his hand outstretched to shake their hands.
Long time no see. He turned to me and grinned, his
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teeth crooked and stained. You must be Jake, the new
recruit. That's me.
I smiled back, shaking his hand.Almost predictably.
His grip was limp and clammy. Welcome to our merry band.
I'm sure I can help you out a lot, getting you on your feet in
this business and so forth. I expect you've had a few good,
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useful skills I might be able touse.
Over Ken's shoulder, Chris was grimacing and rolling his eyes.
I could see what he meant. There was a falsehood about him,
more than a dash of ego about this man to boot.
But I put on my best smile, shook his hand warmly and told
him that I thought he was probably right.
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Shall we go inside? Dinner's on the stove, said
Malcolm. Great, said Ken, rubbing his
hands together enthusiastically in a way that almost seems
sarcastic. I'm starving.
But first, I've brought a coupleof home comforts with me for my
visit. Of course.
I hope you don't mind. Not a problem.
Do you need a hand? Asked Malcolm.
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I'll help, I volunteered. Why not?
I thought it seemed best to get off on the good start with this
man. Irritating as though he might
be, I'd learned it's best at this point to be seen as a
friendly person in the group. It was best to have as many
people on your side as possible.Ken led the way to the back of
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the car and open the door to reveal what appeared from its
shape to be a large box covered in a tarp.
He then flicked it forward and revealed 2 large wire mesh
cages, each containing the form of a tightly bound woman.
I couldn't see much in the yellow interior light of the
car, but both were lying on their fronts, nylon clad legs
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that were tightly held by their wrists to their backs with steel
cuffs and chains. My latest acquisitions.
Said Ken. Still learning how I like
things, but they'll do. He bent down and flicked the
catch on the 1st cage. No need for a padlock, I don't
think they're going to go anywhere.
He was right of course, The woman who was locked in steel
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cuffs and I could now see hooded, a tight leather hooded
form attached to a collar which hugged her neck.
However, I would still have useda padlock, I thought.
Never assume with security. They were Malcolm's words and
they echoed through my mind. Ken's comments suggested a
potentially dangerous arrogance and underestimation of his
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stock, but at that moment they were controlled.
Ken had undone the first woman'scuffs and attached a leash to
the collar and was pulling her from the cage.
She faltered slightly, clambering between the rear of
the car and the ground, a combination probably as stiff
limbs of long restraint and her lack of vision.
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Ken jerked the leash hard in response, holding her head up in
an awkward angle. I could see now that she was
dressed only in lingerie, a Lacymix of white panties, bra and a
suspended belt holding matching stockings while she balanced on
a pair of strappy heels. There must have been at least 4
inches high. Ken grabbed a handful of one
ample breast and using it and pulling the leash, she pulled
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her from the car, eliciting a muffled squeal from behind, the
swinging scrotum shaped end of which was presumably a large
penis gag protruding from the hood.
Here, have a look at her, said Ken.
Take off her hood, it just unclips from the collar and
lifts past the gag. Thanks very much.
I said. The woman was obviously nervous,
her head turning from side to side, trying to use her hearing
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to gather what information she could about her surroundings.
I put a stop to that when I tookthe leash, holding it firmly
closely to her collar, preventing the movement and
leaving her in no doubt that shewas fully controlled.
She was a little shorter than me, with her heels on.
She had doughy breasts, overflowing the tight lace cups
for bra and wide curving hips. Taking my time, I ran my hand
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down the flanks, enjoying her softness in the contrast with
the rougher lace of her panties and suspend her belt.
Although her firm yet soft muscle tone suggested a good
diet and strict exercise regime,there was a slight coarseness
and sag to her skin and fullnessto her hips that suggested
maturity. I suspected that this one was a
bit older than she appeared withthe hood on.
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I felt her shudder and shift slightly, obviously not enjoying
my attentions. I glanced at Ken.
He had back to me and was busy pulling his other slave from the
cage in the back of the car. I hesitated slightly, I didn't
know the etiquette in these situations.
In the end I decided I found Ken's over familiar, slightly
superior manner annoying and I wanted to send him a message.
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Call it male bravado, but there was no way I was going to let
this pencil neck treat me like some ignorant newbie.
I wanted to be seen more as an equal in this particular pecking
order. Accordingly, I tightened my grip
on the fidgety little slave and yanked downwards, pulling her
head down until it was just below the level of my waist.
She squawked an alarm behind hergag and teetered on her heels.
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Caught off balance, I grabbed a handful of her fleshy ass to
steady her and then brought my hand back and down with some
force. Slap, stand still right now,
slave. I barked.
If I'm feeling your assets, you do not fucking move.
I continued, punctuating each word with another sting slap to
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her ass. Now let's get this off and have
a look at you. I began unclipping the bottom of
the leather hood from her collaruntil it was free and I could
lift it off. I pulled her upright, pulling
the leash upward until she was standing on tiptoe and I was
looking into her eyes. She had a rounded, homely face,
which even in the low light put her somewhere in her mid 40s.
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It was a sort of face one might see hundreds of on any high
level St. in the county, that sort of thing.
With a little make up it might have be remotely attractive.
Honestly, right now it was gasping with the shock of my
treatment, strands of blonde hair plastered from the sweat of
the hood across her cheeks and its forehead, which was
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terrifying. Her eyes met mine now.
I said, holding her gaze. Where was I before I was so
rudely interrupted? Dropping the leash, I put both
arms around her, seized handfulsof her ass and pulled her
tightly against me, holding her wide eyes on my own.
My hands kneaded away separatingher ass cheeks, my fingers
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probing her ring through the lace for panties, making her
squeak in protest and attempt topush away, but managing only to
press her fleshly mound against my growling erection.
I continued for a few seconds when hand moving to cup and rub
and finger her still, which she pushed insistently just because
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her rosebud was twisting and turning in my fingers.
Her eyes were now screwed shut and tears of humiliation were
squeezing between them and trickling down her cheeks.
That's better. Now stand still and quiet while
we wait for your master. She stumbled slightly as I let
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her go, but recovered her balance despite the heels and
her cuffed hands. She stood with her head down,
looking at the ground, still, still trembling.
Satisfied, I turned and met Ken's gaze.
As I'd hoped, he didn't look quite so confident now, his eyes
showing uncertainty at my brazenhandling of his property.
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This one needs to learn a few lessons.
Is she new? I asked.
Yeah, yeah, she is. I bought the bitch a month or so
ago from her former husband, whowanted a younger model.
He's a retired policeman of all things and just got bored after
20 years of marriage and all that time.
So he said she never gave him a blowjob, never let him do
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anything but the missionary position.
He gave a nasal snort that passed for a chuckle.
She never bargained on his contacts with the group though.
She is actually dead officially.You know, she disappeared on
holiday in Thailand and he had her delivered to his place in
the country where he kept her nicely caged and put her through
her paces properly. I don't think there are many
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hours in that time when one or more holes weren't filled with
something. Then I came along, put him in
touch with someone who had a much younger meat for sale, and
took the bitch off of his hands pretty much on a whim.
Why'd you do that? I asked.
She's got a few miles on the clock, hasn't she?
Ken snorted again and looked a little embarrassed.
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I know, but I like the idea of owning a senior policeman's
wife, you know? Plus she was cheap, useful, you
know? I like to, you know, use her to
test things. Come up with.
It was my turn to laugh. I know exactly what you mean,
mate. Have you seen Malcolm and
Chris's pony, Buddyscotch? Oh, absolutely.
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She's not a bad filly either. Wasted on Malcolm and Chris
though. I chuckled.
Indeed she is. By now Ken had the other woman
out of the car and was unbuckling her hood.
She was obviously younger than the slave I held with petite
slim body, a narrow waist and smaller perky breasts.
The details were obscured slightly as she was wearing a
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fetching pink baby doll in a gauzy semi sheer fabric with
matching lacing panties and holding up stockings, again on
heels similar to those worn by his other slave.
As the hood came off it revealeda fragile looking delicate face
dominated by large dark eyes anda mass of curly dark hair.
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Her mouth was also stretched widely around a large penis gag.
She was no older than 18 or 19 and was blinking and looking
around wildly trying to assess her situation.
Very nice. I said, appreciating all of the
necessary assets she had. She looks like fresh meat, not
someone's old worn out cast off.Ken grinned at my comment.
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That's exactly what she was. I got her cheap off someone I
know. He's a clever bloke, really.
Modified his lorry to make it into a massive trap.
He leaves it unobscured in likely places.
In France, illegal immigrants sneak in thinking they're pretty
clever and really lucky, but before they know it he's locked
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the doors and flooded the back with a anesthetic gas.
He has contacts with the customspeople he keeps very well paid
to look the other way and Nets 10s of thousands of slaves at a
time. Sometimes they come in all
shapes, sizes, colors, but nearly all of them are young and
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it's not hard to find a buyer for almost all of the stock for
some use or another. Best of all, no one looks very
hard for them when they disappear and no one really
knows where to start looking if they wanted to.
I just got lucky with this stupid little bitch.
She was trying to get here from the Ukraine or somewhere with
her boyfriend. I'd made a few specialist
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devices for my friend and he gave her to me as a partial
settlement for the debt. Ken was sounding pretty self
satisfied, but what he'd said was fascinating.
I have no idea that slavery wenton like that, on that level,
that scale, with that much sophistication.
The coming months would reveal even more to me.
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What happened to the boyfriend? I asked.
Ken chuckled. Poor bastard was sold at the
auction where I met my friend topick his girlfriend up.
Some clients of mine bought him 2 old sisters who were into age.
Regression said she needed a cute little baby boy and he was
just the ticket. I was at their place a few weeks
ago, making a delivery. It's just then that they had
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this big massive house with 10 slaves or so, all regressed to
toddlers and babies. They've got a freakish nursery
in the roof of the house with rows of cots, each one
containing a slave chained up and babified.
Freaky really, but it takes all sorts.
Shall we go in? He asked, picking up a hold all
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up from the boot of the car. Why not?
I replied, stepping aside for him to pass.
I gave the leash I held a tug and walked after him, my slave
following, tits swaying and barely restrained by their Lacy
prison. Kin's slave walked behind him at
the end of the leash, giving hima great view of her Peach like
rear, which was nicely on show below the hem of her baby doll,
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her buttocks deliciously emphasized by the back of her
thong disappearing between them at the top.
What kept you 2? Chris said loudly, holding up a
beer as we entered the living room.
Oh, just having a chat. I smiled.
Fair enough, I've got the beers in.
Is there anything else you all need?
How about for these two? He gestured at the two gagged
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and cuffed women. A bowl of water.
And have you got any leftovers or scraps they could have?
Chris considered. How about some pony food?
Perfect. Said Ken Neil.
Cunts, said Ken casually, appearing as if no one in
particular even mattered at thispoint.
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Both women were immediately struggling, keeping their eyes
fixed on the floor and their knees spread wide to expose the
pleasing side of their lace covered mounds.
I found Chris verbally abusive and his style with his two
slaves was yet another one of many annoying traits.
Not because I felt they deservedrespect, but they were a mirror
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property and that would be ridiculous.
It was more because I felt unnecessary and excessive given
their degraded circumstances. Here was a formerly well off
wife of respected pillar of the community and a girl who'd been
heading for Britain to find a new life well, who found
themselves suddenly reduced to the status of livestock being
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helplessly brought. And here they were, sold,
bought, abused by their new owners.
Simple name calling seemed crassand lacking in a certain style
and panache to me in the circumstances.
Ken's use of it suggested he needed to keep reassuring
himself of his own superiority and that he lacked imagination.
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Perhaps even both. At this point Chris reappeared
carrying two bowls, one of waterand the other with a brownish
mush containing fragments of steak and brownish mush
containing fragments and streaksof green and orange, which were
presumably vegetables and other ingredients that had survived
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the blender. Thanks Chris, said Ken and took
the bowl, setting them down in front of the young dark haired
girl and the older woman. Now let's keep these two
occupied, we have a fair bit to chat about, could you take your
gag out for me? He said, gesturing to the older
woman. Sure.
I said, and I walked behind the kneeling slave to unbuckle its
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straps. The penis gag was quite an
impressive length for an oral device and must have been
sitting in the woman's throat, suggesting the well trained
reflexes. I suspected she had a lot of
practice recently. I like the realism of the mock
scrotum, which seemed to make itvery interesting that the thin
flexible leather, or perhaps fabric of some kind of leather,
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contained 2 heavy rounded weights simulating 2 balls
nicely. It was even hairy, as if it was
the indignity of having the penis shoved down the wearer's
throat was not enough. She also had two mocked
testicles knocking against her chin.
Obviously it was uncomfortable to wear as the slave.
She was working her jaw over andover again for hours.
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By now Ken had forced the dark haired girl's head down into the
bowl, giving me a nice view of the Oval pussy between her
spread legs, not quite covered by the thin strap of her pink
thong slut. Ken barked, looking at the slave
at my feet. Before your main course, you're
going to have a pussy starter. Get down there and get your
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tongue in her holes. If she doesn't come before that
food is finished, you'll get nothing, you understand?
Whether this was some new degradation her Master was
heaping on her, or whether it was because she was ordered to
do something in front of me, I didn't know.
But the blonde haired slave hesitated and I heard a stifled
SOB as her head shook slightly before her eyes began to plead.
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Ken reached into his pocket and brought something out, which,
when she saw it, made her widen her eyes and start moving to
carry out his command as soon asshe saw it.
But it was too late. He held some sort of device in
his hand, pushed a button which drew a short scream from her.
The slave fell into her side, twisted her body in apparent
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agony as she gasped for breath. It lasted no more than a couple
of seconds before Ken relented, leaving the slave lying on her
side, her chest heaving, 1 breast having slipped from her
bra cup in her struggles. Now do it cunt.
Ken ordered desperately. The slave struggled to her knees
and pulled herself over to the rear of her fellow chattel.
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One seemed to be lapping up the pony food with gusto.
I assume Ken kept them hungry. Her head jerked up slightly and
she squeezed as the older woman pressed her face against her
between her legs, using her noseto hook the thong out of the
way. I watched with interest, my cock
stiffening as the desperate woman's pink tongue pushed
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between the lips of the kneelinggirl began to work, eliciting a
slow moan and a shudder. Impressive.
I said I was lying. How did you do that?
Ken shrugged. Simple, really.
I created a device of my own. It's just a remote control
linking a shocking device built into their collars.
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He held out a small black plastic box, looking for all the
world like a miniature TV remote, which had a series of
buttons on its front. I can vary the intensity of the
shock. The one I gave her was some
moderate one, but it worked wellenough.
Damn right, I exclaimed. It certainly changed her mind
about refusing. I glanced over to the two
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slaves. The older woman was pursuing her
task with gusto, driven by fear of the shocker in her collar,
her face buried between the younger girl's legs while her
one breast freely dangled, swinging, jiggling in time with
her exertions. The recipient of her attentions
was having trouble focusing on eating, her body shuddering or
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her back arching involuntarily with the sensations she had no
choice but to endure. She was moaning and squeaking
almost continuously now, building towards her unwanted
climax. The collar didn't look like
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much, just a plastic and leatherring secured snugly around the
slaves throats, presumably with metal contacts against their
skin. Personally, I preferred
administering discipline directly.
I like the personal touch. Using a device like the collar
was simply conditioning a response nowhere near as
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enjoyable. Unless, of course, one enjoyed
the simple infliction of pain with minimum effort.
Yet I could see possibilities for the device, a place for
something or another. It looked like it was in my
plans. Ken was still talking about his
invention. It's been very popular, you
know, the best thing of its kind, I'm told.
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I've made all sorts of variants for people.
Dildos, butt plugs, cock rings, all sorts.
It gets me all sorts of favors, you know.
That's how I got this one cheap.He nodded towards the dark
haired woman who was now buckingand withering on her knees, her
remaining food forgotten in the throes of orgasm.
One SEC. Said Ken and moved over to the
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two women. Stop, slut.
He commanded the older woman, who ceased and struggled
upright, her eyes fixed to the floor and her face glistening
with the other girl's juices. Kin seized a handful of the dark
hair and pulled her upright evenas she shuddered through the
subsiding spasms of her orgasm. She looked like a state where
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her eyes were wide with a combination of waning lust and
apprehension, and her lower facewas streaked in the mush that
she had been eating. Keeping a firm grip, Kin
maneuvered the girl around to face the other as she shuffled
to keep up with her struggling on her knees.
Now lick her face clean, slut. Without hesitation, the blonde
woman who bent forward. I began to lick the other's
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cheeks. I sipped my beers.
Kin watched her progress. There was something intensely
erotic in watching the pink tongue lick its way around the
dark haired girl's mouth, cleaning as it went, and I could
feel my erection pushing hard against the inside of my jeans.
When she'd almost finished, Ken grabbed a handful of blonde
hair, provoking a Yelp of pain, and pushed the faces together.
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Now get your tongue in her mouth.
She complied immediately, pressing her tongue and her
mouth against the lips of the other girl, her tongue
momentarily visible as it plunged between them.
I guess this was something she was more familiar with and
surmised that it was perhaps oneof Ken's favourites.
After a while, Ken evidently wassatisfied enough.
Releasing the dark haired woman,he pushed the blonde's head down
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into the bowl as she began to eat, ravenously wolfing down the
mush despite its appearance. I wondered when Ken had last fed
them. Before long, she too was
twitching and squeaking as Ken pushed the delicate features of
her companion into her exposed pussy.
He then bent and released the woman, allowing her breasts to
swing outside of her bra, the large brown nipples almost
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brushing the floor. Ken returned to the armchair it
occupied and took a long pull from his beer.
You and I have some things to talk about.
I think, Ken, I can see some real applications for your
collars or something like them, and what I'm planning.
I don't know if what I want is even possible.
But you seem to be the man. I need to talk to Malcolm and
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Christopher Wright, and I need to know if there's anything I
can do for you in return. Ken looked at me.
I could see he was pleased, his ego boosted by my remarks.
I'm sure I can figure something out.
These things are never difficultif you put your mind to it.
What is it you need exactly? I spent a few minutes describing
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my requirements and what I was trying to achieve to Ken and we
began to talk around the possibilities.
Annoying though he was, I had tosay that Ken knew his stuff and
was passionate about it. He came alive as we discussed
microphones, sound frequencies, timer sensors, electrodes,
controls, batteries and software, and by the time
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Malcolm and Chris announced thatdinner was ready, Ken was
enthused at the new project I'd handed him.
Ken secured the slaves before weleft the room.
We'd been talking for a good 20 minutes, mostly obvious to them,
although Ken had reinserted the blonde woman's gags when her
involuntary orgasm cries had disturbed us too much.
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She had long finished the pony food in the bowl, but as she had
not been told to move and the dark haired girl had not been
told to stop her attentions, they had stayed in position, the
older woman coming over and overagain.
She was in quite a state when kin returned to them, but he
ignored it. He re gagged the younger girl
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and reached into his bag for twodildos, which had been roughly
10 inches long at least and werestudded and ribbed like medieval
war maces. Ken attached him to the floor by
means of suckers on their bases and then snapped his fingers and
pointed, looking at the two girls.
Both shuffled on their knees towards the two monstrous
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protrusions and raised themselves up on their knees.
Ken squatted by the dark haired girl and pulled her thong to one
side, positioning the head of the dildo at the entrance to her
shaved pussy. Down.
He commanded, and with a sob shebegan to lower herself.
It was obvious a struggle to accommodate the monster, but
gradually she did it, her pussy lips stretching as each knob and
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rib disappeared inside of her asshe gasped and grunted,
encouraged by the occasional slap on her ass from Ken.
Finally most of the dildo had disappeared.
Ken was satisfied as she knelt, her legs now splayed widely,
impaling on it, her face spewed with discomfort and her breath
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panting. Good girl, now stay there.
He said and cuffed her ankles toeach side and to her collar.
Then he turned to the blonde woman, her face and breast now
streaked with pony food. This shouldn't be too hard for
this one. Her husband stretched her
nicely. She coloured at his words,
obviously still capable of embarrassment despite her
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degradation. Trudican's words.
She had much less trouble with her intruder, though it was
obviously far from comfortable. As a final touch, Ken bent and
touched something at the base ofboth devices, and a low
mechanical hum became audible. Both slaves stiffened, their
eyes widened, and squeaks and squeals issued from behind their
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gags as the dildos came to life inside of them.
That should juice them up nicelyfor me later.
Shall we go eat? Said Ken.
Definitely. I'm starving.
And we left the room, a final glance showing the blonde slave
already bent over, convulsed in orgasm, her haunches working
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involuntarily, sliding up and down the shaft of the dildo.
Oh, how delicious. Ken had not been the first
member of the group I had met, nor was he the last, although he
may have been the most annoying and the most dull.
He was, however, a clever man and that made him useful and
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worth cultivating. I met a number of those two, all
with their own skill sets and still others who simply wanted
to pay me to undertake some taskfor them.
One of the first was Malcolm andChris's vet, a stocky man in his
30s called Ed. He had buck teeth and permanent
stubble and seemed to be interesting, owning no slaves
(29:56):
himself but travelling around visiting and caring for human
livestock belonging to the groupall over the country and the
continent. He told me it was pretty
lucrative in that he earned goodmoney as a Courier carrying
items for members which couldn'tbe trusted to the post.
Another was Nigel, a well spokenbut bland and instantly
(30:17):
forgettable man around 60, who was a senior judge no less.
I was quietly shocked of how thoroughly the establishment was
infiltrated by the group. As a result, it seemed I could
get away with pretty much anything up to and including
murder, as long as it was careful.
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Nigel was part of that influencing decision in the
group's favour in return from membership.
All in all, it had its perks. In his case, that was three
teenage boys he kept caged, encased in rubber and thoroughly
plugged in his cellar playroom. I also met Felix the Slaver, a
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man who with a small group of associates made a lucrative and
According to him very enjoyable living from kidnapping,
enslavement and generally supplying group members with
what they wanted. I went to see him with Malcolm
as he was very interested in employing my skills to acquire
personal details, potential targets to make surveillance and
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snatching easier. We were taken blindfolded to the
facility somewhere in the English countryside.
The where I couldn't possibly have said is we didn't really
see the outside of the building and all we could see through the
windows were trees. Once we arrived, however, we
found him to be unusual but hospitable and accommodating,
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and Malcolm and I spent a pleasant few hours and then a
few days there as I undertook mywork for him.
It was while we were at Felix's facility that I met Elise,
probably my favorite of all the group members.
Malcolm introduced me to her. She was a 40 something lawyer,
tall, intelligent blonde, all sharp suits and nylon legs, the
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very image of this dominatrix about town.
But beyond her icy stare was an irreverent sense of humor and a
gregarious manner. At least you know with her
equals it was very appealing. To her slaves she was a terror,
though she was visiting Felix topick up some new slave and the
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young man in his 20s she had taken.
She had taken a fancy to him, that was for sure.
She had contacted Felix and he had undertaken the necessary
research and kidnapped and contacted her as soon as it was
all done. I first met her when Malcolm had
taken me to the guest suite she was staying in to introduce me.
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We'd knocked, entered at her call to find her seated with her
new acquisition naked at her feet.
Hi boys, she said bruisily, as if she'd known me for years.
Come in and sit down, help yourself to a drink.
She gestured to a side table. Then, quite deliberately, she
ran her eyes up and down me and licked her lips and winked.
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Well, well, quite a catch, aren't you?
I bet you look good naked and caged.
Her blue eyes sparkled with laughter as she said it,
removing any hint of a threat. Oh stop it, Elise Jakes far too
useful to let you get your clutches on him.
Elise sniffed and turned her nose up, her well manicured hand
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pushing to an imaginary stray lock of her perfectly coiff tear
behind an ear. I can't blame a girl for trying.
It's just nice to see someone inthis group that isn't a dirty
old man or a old geezer. At least I'm not a perv like the
two of you. Come on.
Malcolm merely raised his eyebrow and looked pointedly at
the slave on the floor. He was lying on his side, his
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forearms tightly cuffed to his ankles, bending his body
backwards like a bow about to release an arrow.
This had the effect of thrustinghis groin forward, emphasizing a
substantial erection, at the base of which encircled was a
metal ring which emitted a faintbuzzing noise.
His neck was encircled by a wideleather collar, which
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effectively immobilized his head.
He had a blindfold he couldn't see.
He was making grunting noises, perhaps partially due to the
action of the cockering, but largely because Elise had her
nylon foot thrust into his mouth, stretching the lower part
of his face grotesquely. Oh well, I might be a geezer,
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but I think my credentials as a perv are pretty secure.
I grinned. Elise threw her head back and
laughed, an earthy cackle completely at odds with her
appearance of elegant poise. I'm glad to hear it.
You'd be a bit out of place otherwise.
Now come in, pour me a drink while you're up and sitting
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down. And tell me about yourself, she
replied. My recollections of the rest of
the evening are a little hazy asI woke the following morning
with one of the worst hangovers it has ever been in my entire
life. Elise was friendly, hospitable,
and we had gotten along like a house on fire.
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The evening had a slightly surreal element to it, as Elise
had continued to toy with her new slave throughout the course
of the evening as we'd drunk, exchanged stories, and generally
gotten to know each other as he lay bound and naked on the floor
between us. Elise had explained that his
ears were thoroughly plugged, and although he may have been
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aware that we were there in the room, he probably had no idea
how many and certainly not what was being said.
He was an object and treated as such.
Apparently, everything he had consumed since his capture had
been laced with Viagra, so the vibrations of the cock ring had
a rapid effect. However, every time Elise judged
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he was getting too close to the edge, her crop would come
descending sharply onto his cockand he would groan and thrash in
his bonds with the pain of it, his erection disappearing, only
to rise again, starting the cycle anew.
Until barely 24 hours previously, the slave had, Elise
told us, had been a young lawyershe had encountered months
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previously that she noticed him.She had lost a case to a team of
which she had been a part of. He had made the mistake of
gloating over it to Elise and sealed his fate.
Revenge, as she had told us, is a dish most definitely best
served cold. Elise and I had a great deal in
common in our attitudes to the world, and in another life we
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may have even been romantically involved, but I think we both
knew instinctively that we each liked our own way entirely too
much. Consequently, we have become
great friends with the deep mutual respect and exchanging
visits and communicating regularly.
Not all my meetings with group members were so positive or
warm. Perhaps the most chilling came
shortly after Chris and I had attempted our plowing experiment
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and began when Malcolm turned upat my door 1 evening wearing a
worried. Anything wrong Malcolm?
I asked him as I poured him a glass of wine.
Oh, nothing too major, just something I need to ask you
about. Oh yes, another group member
wants to meet you. Said Malcolm.
She wants you to do some IT workfor her security.
She said, but I don't know what exactly.
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Well what's wrong with that? I've helped several others so
far and I didn't see that there was an issue before.
Malcolm nodded. I know, but this is a bit
different and more complicated. Her name is Margaret Fenshaw.
She's a wealthy businesswoman, owns a shipping company she took
over when her husband died. She's a group member, but also
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part of something called the Blake Sorority.
Ever heard of it? I shook my head, I had no idea
what he was talking about. Well, I've introduced you to
quite a few members of the groupso far, and I idealistic bunch,
wouldn't you agree? I mean, you'd be hard put to
describe us as an organization because we don't have really,
you know, anyone directing us. We just get things done in small
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groups based on individual initiative, the cooperation of a
few ground rules. But Despite that, we have a
worldwide distribution. We're successful, definitely.
I nodded, sipping my wine and lowering myself into an
armchair. Malcolm continued.
But within our umbrella, there'sseveral specific subgroups who
are more or less coherent and linked to the overall group, so
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to say, in various degrees. The Blake sorority is different.
It's a very separate entity, separate even from wider
society. To a degree, it even has its own
schools where it educates and trains the daughters of its
members for roles within its organization.
For example, it's like a different country, but operating
within and parallel to the rest of society, insinuating its
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members into positions of power and influencing others one way
or another. It is probably smaller in terms
of the numbers of its members, but not by much.
It's successful, but unlike us, it's well organized.
Like, really well organized. As the name suggests, its
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members are all female, and theybelieve, to varying degrees in
female supremacy over the male of the species.
Wow, I said. I I wasn't quite sure I believed
him, but given what I'd witnessed in the past year, I
was prepared to listen. How long have they been around?
About 250 years, as far as we know.
Longer than we have had, at least even in this century.
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As far as the outsiders know, they originated as a small group
of the wives of influential or wealthy men who managed to.
Manipulate their spouses and those around them and grow more
and more powerful as the decadespassed, evolving their ideology
as they did so. Today.
They are like us worldwide in their scope and able to
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influence governments, corporations and individuals
using blackmail, bribery and threats which they're more
willing to carry out. Are they dangerous?
I asked if you cross them. Yes, said Malcolm.
We exist in a sort of Mexican standoff.
Both the sorority and our group fear exposure more than
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anything. An outright war between us would
be too uncontrollable and probably result in mutual
destruction, and both sides knowit.
They can't do anything to take us out because we're too
numerous and and no one's in overall charge and we can't
remove them as we're not organized enough.
That's not to say, of course, that individuals don't disappear
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on both sides. It's a bit of a Cold War,
really. So why is this Margaret woman
contacting you then? I wondered.
Malcolm looked thoughtful and grimaced.
I'm not really sure, and that bothers me, though I have a
theory. Which is?
I asked. The sorority is like any other
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hierarchy. Many of those in what seems to
be the top of the food chain, they're different.
They have different opinions. And so factions develop and
politics become fierce. Some of their members are
zealots and extremists and have nothing to do with males except
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as slaves, and preach for more aggressive policies on
domination and expansion. Others are more moderate,
wanting to maintain the status quo and maintain a dialogue
growing steadily in the shadows.Margaret is one of the latter.
She talks to us and keeps communications open.
I visit her several times as we have mutual interests.
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I suspect being gay helps with that.
Now they have their own IT specialist.
So I think she may want to talk to you because she wants
something done and she doesn't trust anyone who's part of the
sorority. I think she sees you as
unnecessary but hopefully neutral evil.
Having said that, do not think she's one of us or not a
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wholehearted believer in the sorority's ideology.
She appeared quite suddenly about four years ago after being
introduced by another woman who appears to be an ally of hers.
It's a fairly open secret that she killed her husband in order
to inherit his company, but no one can prove it.
Wow, quite a piece of work then.How do you know?
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I asked. We don't.
All we do know is that she's been married, now nine years
ago. Then five years ago, after his
yacht sank off the coast of Scotland, neither his body or
that of his two teenage sons, her stepsons, were ever
recovered. His son stood to inherit after
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his death. Everything convenient, don't you
think? Then she inherits the company
and is revealed to the group, atleast as one of the Blake's
sororities. It's all pretty suspicious, but
we can't prove anything, though we've looked into it.
I had to say my curiosity was piqued.
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An organization of dominatrixes sounded like a fetishist wet
dream, although I suspected thatthe reality was rather harsher
and less pleasant than most suchdreams.
Part of me wanted to take up thechallenge simply to see what the
sorority or at least one of its members might be about.
Another part of me believed in the advantage of knowing their
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enemy and wanting to take the work to acquire some knowledge
of a potential threat. But yet another section of my
mind could sense Malcolm's seriousness and was screaming
caution. So I think we're going to end it
here, and thank you for listening.
Until then, may all your fantasies become realities.