Confessions of a Slaver

CONFESSIONS OF A SLAVER: PART 2

 

It was late on a Saturday morning when Dad walked in on us.  His normal routine was to spend the morning working, then coming home early to take us all to dinner.  He'd been gone for a couple of hours, and neither of us expected to see him again until at least 3:00 that afternoon.  We were wrong.

 

I'd just finished watching Carolyn bring herself to orgasm ‑ she was being rewarded for getting a D on a term paper ‑ this time by pressing herself onto the dining room table, rubbing her wet cunt up and down over the pointed corner, until she came, screaming.  She'd just fallen to the floor, exhausted, her swollen, abused gash fully exposed, when I heard the front door open.

 

 Understandably, the first words out of Dad=s mouth at seeing his 15 year old daughter splayed naked on the floor, panting from an explosive orgasm, were, "What the fuck?"

 

I, of course answered in a typically intelligent and coherent manner.

 

"Uh, hi, Dad.  I...uh...didn't know you were coming home."  Life as I knew it was coming to a quick end.

 

"Well, that's sure as Hell obvious.  Care to tell me what the fuck is going on here?  Why the fuck is your sister naked?" 

 

This was no time for lies or bullshit.  I took a deep breath.  The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth.

 

"I don't let Carolyn wear clothes when you're not home, Dad," I began explaining.

 

"You 'don't let her wear clothes?'  Just what does that mean?" he cut me off. "Why the hell would she do what you say, anyway?

 

"She's my slave, Dad." 

 

He didn't say anything for several seconds, just moving his eyes back and forth between the two of us.

 

"Slave," he finally said.

 

"Slave,' I affirmed.

 

AYou force her to do this, then.@

 

ANo.  She does it willingly, Dad.  It=s just the way she is. Me, too, for that matter.  Not a slave, I mean, not me.  I=m the other way,@ I tried unsuccessfully to explain.

 

"And you want this, Carolyn?" he asked, looking at her.   I looked at her nodded, signaling for her to answer.

 

 She averted her eyes before softly responding, "Yes, Sir."

 

"Why?  How long?  Shit, I don't believe any of this," he said, shaking his head.

 

Carolyn placed her hand in front of her mouth, indicating a request to be permitted to speak.  Again, I nodded.

 

"Sir," Carolyn started, "I can't remember a time when it didn't feel right to not do what he says.  I guess you could say I've really been his slave as long as I can remember.  I don't think I can really explain why, other than to say 'because it's what I am, because it feels right, because this is what I'm supposed to be."

 

AI suppose you've been fucking her regularly, too?  Peddling her ass to your buddies, maybe?@ he asked venomously, his eyes focused angrily on me.

 

ANo, Dad, not yet.   She wants me to, but I=m not sure I want to do that.  Eventually, I=m going to fuck her, and I might even whore her out after that, or maybe even sell her cherry,  but she's not ready yet.  She does give pretty good head, though.@  I cringed inwardly after blurting that last part out, wondering if my life would end now.

 

He mulled my comments over for a moment before responding.  ASo, my daughter is a cock sucker and a slave to her brother, but still a virgin, huh?@ he commented.

 

AThat=s about it, Dad,@  I answered.  The room fell silent, the only sound that of the clock tick‑tocking on the mantle.

 

AI see," he said, returning his attention to his naked daughter, kneeling now, knees spread wide and her cunt visibly dripping.  "You say she has a decent mouth?  How long have you been using it?"

 

"About a year," I answered.  I could tell he was giving the concept of his daughter being a slave some thought.  It was more the change in attitude than the obvious hardness in the front of his pants, but the change was quite clear.

 

"May I address your slave, then?" he asked, much calmer now.

 

"It's your house, and she=s your daughter," I shrugged.  "You have as much right as anyone."

 

"Get up on your feet, you little bitch!" he suddenly yelled, grabbing her by the hair and wrapping one of his huge fists in it.  "You want to be a sex slave, fine, but your days of ignoring the man who gives you food and shelter are over.  If you want to remain in my home, you'll be my slave just as much as you are your brother=s.  Understand, cunt?"

 

'Y...yes, Sir," she stammered, shocked by the change of events.

 

"Is that all right with you?" he asked me.  "I don't have a problem with your relationship, but if you want to live here, you'll both abide by MY rules."

 

"No problem at all, Dad," I replied.  "Consider it rent if you want.  Carolyn, from now on you obey your father as you would me," I told her.

 

"Yes, Sir," she answered, dropping to her knees at Dad's feet.

 

"Good.  I'm glad we understand each other.  Now, it's been over a month for me, so how about you wrap those slutty lips around my cock and start sucking!"

 

That day marked a major change in our lives ‑ mine, Dad's, but most of all, Carolyn's.  We transformed her bedroom into something out of a sexual sadist's dream.   First, we stripped it completely ‑ no carpet, no draperies, no furniture.  The heat and air conditioning vent was permanently shut, and the window locked.  We replaced the door with a heavy-duty, fire rated one, and installed twin keyed deadbolts to secure it.  Carolyn could now be locked in or out at our choosing.  For ambiance, we Awallpapered@ the room with cutouts from skin magazines showing naked women being abused - whipped, ass-fucked, sucking off dogs, just about everything imaginable - and later, supplemented these with photos of Carolyn=s naked, abused body.  A heavy eye bolt secured to the floor gave us a place to lock our slave to when we weren't using her.  The only furnishings were an old, filthy mattress on the floor, her water and food bowls, and a bucket she could use as a toilet.  We seldom let her empty it more than twice a week, so she was careful to use it only when absolutely necessary.

 

She didn't spend much time in her room, though.  Her days were filled with chores, and at night, she would be chained by the collar to the foot of either my bed or dad=s. Wherever she spent the night, she served as an alarm clock, gently sucking on cock until her Master of the morning awakened, spewing his load into her eager teenage mouth, then following up with his morning piss.  Once that was over, she crawled into the other bedroom and repeated the process.

 

With her normal breakfast of two loads of cum and urine consumed, she was expected to prepare our breakfasts.  The fare varied day‑to‑day, but was always served hot and cooked to perfection.  Anything less, she knew, would result in a beating she'd not soon forget.

 

Once breakfast was over, Dad and I would go get dressed for our day, while Carolyn would hurry through her morning chores ‑ washing the dishes and making sure the house was spotless.  If she had done an acceptable job, we=d allow her an orgasm once every few days, usually by pressing herself into the palm of our hand or the tip of a shoe.  She usually had about five minutes to get dressed, including putting her makeup on, before school.  The privilege of orgasm had a price, however; she never had enough time  to get cleaned up before school, and would end up attending class with cum and piss on her breath.

 

Dad thought up all sorts of nasty and humiliating things to make Carolyn do, too.  For instance, since she was already wiping my ass after I shit, Dad decided we didn't need to spend money on toilet paper; she could just use her hand.  From that, it was just a small step to having her clean our assholes with her tongue.  It was Dad who suggested tying fishing weights to tiny flat metal clips, then clamping them on to her inner labia. She screamed the first time we did it, but we just ignored her and continued adding weights. It wasn't very long before her inner lips hung down below the outer ones.

 

It was also Dad who set up her diet: breakfast for Carolyn was a bowl of dry dog food, usually moistened with her own piss; dinner consisted of scraps tossed onto the floor for her to scramble after.  Lunch, if she had any, was usually a cold stew of vegetable trimmings, and perhaps, if she'd been exceptionally obedient, a few little chunks of fat trimmed from our steaks. On school days, she just went hungry – unless I decided to fill her belly with a couple of shots of semen.  We were careful to make sure she stayed healthy, though; a sick slave is just a burden, so she got a daily megadose of vitamins, antibiotics at the first sign of illness, and she got a normal meal every two days.

 

Dad and I both used her mouth each the morning,  being very careful to resist the temptation afforded by her wet pussy.  We did finally break in her asshole, Dad suggesting it as an alternative hole for us to use, while allowing her cherry to remain intact.  It soon became normal for her to walk to school not only with piss on her breath, but cum dripping out of her abused rectum.   

 

Once in a while Dad would bring a date home - sometimes obviously a hooker - that we'd share.  If the date seemed like she'd be okay with it, we'd have Carolyn "fluff" us, then clean everyone up afterwards.  A couple of times ‑ usually with some whore Dad rented, but once with a regular date ‑ we'd have a girl‑on‑girl show to get things warmed up.  We both noticed how much Carolyn didn't like to eat another girl=s pussy, so we started doing that regularly.

 

Dad and I decided it was time to change Carolyn's dress code again.  Frilly socks and patent leather shoes were out; in were mini‑skirts, stockings and spiked‑heel shoes.  Her blouses always showed plenty of cleavage, enhanced considerably by her lack of a bra. On the few occasions when she was permitted panties (usually only when her skirt was so short that she'd be exposed when standing), they were nothing but the tiniest of g‑strings.  She was still required to wear red during her period ‑ a not‑so‑fashionable red leather choker, which embarrassed her even more than her scarf had.

 

Carolyn's attire pushed ‑ more often than not exceeded ‑ the school's published dress code.  Her skimpy attire resulted in being sent to the Principal's office nearly weekly, but she soon learned that detention could be easily avoided.  All she had to do was crawl under the Principal's desk and open that sexy mouth of hers.  The Principal was the only person in the school who knew Carolyn for the slut she was; to everyone else, she was a cock‑tease who showed off, never dated and never, ever put out.

 

Her becoming a cock tease was an intentional move on my part.  No longer completely prohibited from talking to male classmates, she could now respond if they initiated the conversation.  However, she was required to speak in a seductive, sexy voice, filled with sexual innuendo. She could fondle boys through their trousers, rub her own crotch and squeeze her breasts while they talked to her, but that was as far as she was permitted to go.  Nobody was allowed to touch her, and she was not permitted to be alone with anyone but me or dad.  By the end of the first semester, she=d pissed of and frustrated nearly the entire male student body ‑  exactly what I wanted.

 

Though certainly no stranger to cock, Carolyn managed to keep her cherry intact, and was still a virgin on her sixteenth birthday.   Now, you might think it strange that a teenage boy with readily‑available and willing pussy wouldn't avail himself of it, but keeping Carolyn's cherry intact was always foremost in my mind.  Besides, between Dad's whores and my own dates, I was getting plenty of snatch.  As a middle‑schooler, I was already taking classes at the high school level, and even tutored a couple of high school girls ‑ both juniors on the cheerleading squad ‑ who paid for their weekly sessions by spreading their cute little tanned legs for me.

 

Dad and I decided that sixteen would be the magic age for the true slut in Carolyn to be permitted to appear in public.  Fifteen was the age of consent in our state back then, which meant nobody could be prosecuted for statutory rape, as long as she was willing.  We'd also quietly discussed the precise manner in which she'd lose her virginity; I knew she wanted something romantic and loving; she'd asked me several times to be the one to do it, but I wanted her to be humiliated and totally degraded.  Needless to say, my wishes took precedence over hers.

 

A rumor ‑ initiated by yours truly ‑ quickly circulated by whispered word that Carolyn wanted to sell her virginity so she could buy designer clothes for herself.  Not a car, not money for college or anything that might be considered marginally acceptable, but expensive, slutty clothes.  Many of the girls already wondered aloud whether she bought her outfits at  "Sluts R Us," and the comments became even cruder when “her” desires became known.

 

Of course, they weren't her desires at all, and none of the money would be going into her pocket anyway.  Carolyn was quite content to continue servicing Dad and myself, and if one of us wanted her pussy, that was fine with her.  The only thing was, her own wishes didn't matter a bit.  So, a cherry auction was arranged. The school cock‑tease was going to be transformed, at least in the eyes of her classmates, into the school whore.  What she didn't realize was that's exactly what she was going to be ‑ the school's whore.

 

By now ‑ her sophomore year ‑ she'd outgrown the prepubescent baby fat that had caused her such consternation and worry.  At 5'5" and 96 pounds, though, she was a still a pedophilic dream ‑ particularly with her shaved, untouched gash.  Her wavy brunette hair hung in light wisps down to the middle of her back.  I found it very handy to be able to grab a handful of hair and force her head onto my cock, or to tie it to the headboard.  With her hands secured tightly behind her back, she was totally helpless and completely available whenever I wanted a midnight blow job, or just felt the need to amuse myself by molesting her young body. Of course, as light as she was, she didn't have much in the way of tits, just a 32B, but based on photos of our well‑endowed mother, I figured she'd soon grow upstairs. Besides, her height coupled with her 22 inch waist made her tits seem larger than they really were.  I=d recently heard of hormones to make breasts grow, and wondered what she=d look like as a 48DD.

 

Her body was unmarked, except for the occasional bruises or welts from her latest whipping.  For her "cumming out" party, she had neither; we'd been careful to allow the bruises and welts to disappear, giving her an even more innocent, virginal appearance.  She was neither pierced nor tattooed (except for ear piercings, such things weren't  fashionable yet), and didn't have a single permanent blemish on her body.  Even her teeth were perfect, straight and ivory white, without a single filling.  She was fastidious about her hygiene when permitted, and as I insisted, clean shaven.

 

We'd used Carolyn regularly over the two weeks leading up to her 'devirginization," but had allowed her no release of her own.  By now, her need was apparent, and she was desperately docile and compliant in the hopes that she'd be allowed to cum.  She, of course, didn't know anything of our plans, other than that she was going to have her virginity taken by the highest bidder.

 

The night of our fifteenth birthday, we sixteen year olds celebrating a "grown up" birthday; I wore a suit, and Carolyn wore a cute lacy party dress, stockings, heels, and a moderate amount of makeup.  It was what wasn't readily visible that differed.  Under Carolyn's dress she wore nothing but a garter belt.  The heels, barely visible under the dress, were six inches high.  Little rubber bands at the base of her nipples made them poke out, long and erect, and the butt plug in her ass kept the copious amount of lubricant from dripping out.  Her cunt was swollen and wet, thanks to the several hours of self‑abuse we'd made her inflict on herself, never allowing her to cum.

 

Carolyn sat quietly through dinner, picking at the plain dinner salad (no dressing) and sipping at her water while Dad and I gorged on prime rib and baked potatoes, with large slices of ice cream‑covered pie for desert.  Carolyn had tasted neither pie nor ice cream since she was twelve years old, and audibly whimpered when the waitress bought our portions out.  While we enjoyed our desert, Dad whispered to Carolyn that the only cream she'd be getting be what she sucked from cocks.  The teasing and fear she had of the unknown degradations she'd be experiencing finally brought tears to her eyes.

 

Once back in the van, Carolyn was outfitted with the final parts of her outfit for the evening:  a restraint set consisting of a thick red leather collar and matching ankle and wrist restraints.  Heavy chains connected her ankles and wrists to each other, and a third chain ran from the collar to her wrists, terminating at the center of the hobble chain between her ankles.  Finally, a large red ball gag topped her outfit off.

 

Our destination, though Carolyn didn't yet know it, was the high school we both attended.  The Principal ‑ who Carolyn had been regularly offering her sweet mouth to ‑ eagerly provided us access to the school's theater.  It was a fine theater, on par with those found in many medium‑sized colleges.  Perfect acoustics, unobstructed seating and a complete sound and lighting system were all going to make for a memorable evening.

 

Carolyn looked horrified when she saw that Dad was pulling into the school parking lot. The realization that her virginity was going to be taken in front of her classmates struck, her like a hammer blow to the abdomen.  She'd assumed this event would be restricted to a few select men, but now it might well be the whole student body!

 

Well, I did nothing to quell her fears, but there were nowhere near that number of people.  Certainly more than the select few she'd prayed for, but 200 attendees was small in comparison to the total enrollment at the school.  Among this group, each of whom had paid a $50 entrance fee just to be here, were more than a few teachers and administrators.  Even without the auction ‑ or the other activities I had planned ‑ my sister=s cherry had already earned me $10,000.

 

As I led my chained and gagged sister out onto the stage, a hush fell over the audience.  With the spotlights blinding her, of course, Carolyn had no idea how many people were present, nor who they were.  Her only hint was the quiet murmurs and rustling of papers ‑ each attendee received a souvenir portfolio of photos, of the cock‑tease herself in a variety of obscene poses.  Each picture was captioned with some lewd yet totally fictitious comment allegedly from my sister, just to whet their appetites.

 

I led Carolyn over to the four‑poster bed strategically placed in the middle of the stage, a leftover from the Drama class=s recent performance of AA Christmas Tale,@ and used a padlock to secure her collar to a short chain at the footboard.  I then walked to the microphone at stage right, leaving her standing alone in the glare of the spotlights pointed at her. She certainly had no idea what was coming next, probably expecting that bidding would start, she'd go lay down on the bed, and her virginity would go away.  Well, bidding would start, but not quite the way she expected.

 

"Gentlemen ‑ and ladies‑ welcome to tonight's activities," I announced.  Carolyn glanced fearfully at me.   She hadn't expected any women or girls to be present!  To get fucked in front of a bunch of men was one thing, but to have other girls watch?  Her face glowed bright red in the light of the spotlights. "I know you're all anxious to see my cock‑tease of a sister turned into a slut, but here are some preliminaries to take care of first."  A groan rolled from the audience, and I waited a moment before continuing.

 

"First of all, since this is all Carolyn's idea, and since she asked me to help, she wants to pay me back for my time and effort in getting this going.  What she's asked is that before her cherry is auctioned off, she=d like to make souvenirs of her clothes. We'll auction off each item she=s wearing.  Whoever wins an article will then get to remove it from her him‑ or herself, and then get five minutes of doing whatever you want to whatever parts of her body are uncovered.  The only restriction on that is no serious harm, as defined by me, and her cherry remains intact for the winning bidder of that item. You can poke, prod, pinch, tickle, slap, whatever, but when I say time=s up or you=re going to far, that=s it.  Anyone exceeds those limits, the auction is over and she goes home with her cherry intact.@  I let them mull that over for a moment before I continued.

 

AThe grand prize will be her panties; the winner will have the option of taking her virginity right here on the stage, or later, in private.  Then after she=s fucked for the first time, she=d like to make >sloppy seconds= available to anyone who willing to spend ten bucks for a crack at one of her holes.  And yes, I mean exactly what I said.  Any hole at all.  Except for her pussy, the cock‑tease you've all been lusting after is quite experienced with both her mouth and asshole.  Consider it your contribution to her clothing fund, if you wish.@  Carolyn looked horrified, while a cheer erupted from the room.

 

I only got fifty dollars for the dress, considerably less than it cost me, but the pimply‑faced freshman who won it had been one of those kids Carolyn had denigrated since the third grade.  He took great pleasure in having my sister kneel in front of him and suck on his cock.  Her face was, after all, uncovered.  Bidding picked up after that, and by the time by the time she was standing in nothing but white spiked heel shoes, lace‑topped stockings and skimpy panties, I was nearly two thousand dollars to the good.  Her face and nipples had taken the brunt of the action, the two boys getting sloppy blow jobs, while the girl who won her slip taking her disgust out on my sister’s nipples with her long, manicured fingernails.

 

I was about to continue with the stockings, figuring wearing almost nothing but her shoes would be good for business, when a voice rang out from the audience. "I want to fuck her the way she is!@  Another voice agreed, and as more joined in, I thought it over quickly.

 

"Okay," I announced, "The next bidding will be for the lot...panties, shoes, stockings and cherry!  You can have her wear whatever you want when you fuck her!"

 

The wagering went hot and heavy, starting at a full thousand dollars.  I'd figured I=d get three or four hundred at the most, but I'd underestimated both the funds available to  my clientele and their the interest in untouched cunt.  Standing on the stage as I was, I could make out little more than shadowy figures.  As the bidding progressed, it narrowed to a contest between two; what no one knew was that it was all a setup.  I=d made these arrangements months ago, and everything from this point had been carefully choreographed. 

 

My gavel pounded on the lectern three times, and Carolyn=s virginity was sold.   There were actually two winners, who as far as anyone knew, had pooled their funds at the last minute.  In reality, they=d been picked well in advance because of their particular predilections, though the money was quite real.  I didn’t feel as though I’d cheated anyone; they were the high bidders, after all.

 

AIt seems we have a conflict,@ I announced, going over the written request sent up to me.  AWe actually have two winners who have combined their money to submit the high bid.  At their request, the first will actually make the first penetration and strip my sister of her virginity; the second will be the one to cum inside her. Please meet the winners, Juanita Juarez and Mike Wilson=s dog, Prince!@