Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Sold Into Slavery: The Dorms

The night when Stephanie had assisted with the party was a turning point. The night had been hard work, from cleaning, to serving food, to serving men. But Stephanie had done everything with a skill and speed that brought her to the attention of the men as being more than just a good fuck. From then on, she had been granted more and more responsibility and with that responsibility she had some freedoms.

She no longer slept in a slave storage cupboard, but slept in a dormitory for slave girls that had some level of responsibility over other slaves. Stephanie had no direct slaves working for her, but she was being given responsibilities for planning and conducting various activities around the house. She was sort of a coordinator, organizing activities, everything from luncheons to small parties, to transporting of slaves from one facility to another.

While she and the others were kept naked all the time, this was not a hardship. Stephanie had come to accept this with ease and comfort long ago. During her initial training she had been tortured and kept confined, used, starved, and had so many demands on her that her nudity was the least of her concerns.

Now, with other women that were seldom clothed, Stephanie didn't even think about nudity.

The girls she lived with were given a bed of their own and a locker in which to keep any personal belongings. The idea of having a personal belonging was new to Stephanie; when you are naked all the time, and do nothing but work and service others, there are no personal belongings.

Some of the girls had some rudimentary makeup, a brush, and perhaps some of their own cleaning items or tools they used on their respective jobs. Stephanie acquired some writing instruments; paper, pen, a notebook. These actually helped her tremendously in her new role as a planner, organizer and executor of various events and projects around the household.

One of the most surprising elements of Stephanie's new status was how the women interacted and shared when put together in the dorms. There was a political structure, sort of a hierarchy that formed, depending on the strength of each woman, as well as her standing in the household. Some of the women were dominant over other women in the dorms, and Stephanie quickly learned her place as the new girl.

One of the other women, a girl younger than Stephanie named Farah, quickly exerted her authority over the newcomer.

"Give me your blanket," she told Stephanie as soon as she arrived (each girl was given one blanket).

"No, this one was given to me," explained Stephanie. She was used to being a slave, submissive to others, but it wasn't clear she had to obey this other woman.

The result was a fight. Farah quickly wrestled Stephanie to the ground, kneeing her in the stomach, and grabbing her hair to jerk her down.  The two naked women fought for about two minutes, rolling around, pulled each other's hair, trying to get the upper hand. The other girl finally subdued Stephanie.

Not only did Farah take possession of Stephanie's blanket, she demanded demeaning obeisance.

"On your stomach before me, bitch," Farah said. The other naked women looked on as Stephanie rolled over onto her stomach.

"Kiss my foot. Show who's bitch you are," Farah barked.

Stephanie crawled to where Fara was sitting and kissed her foot. In fact, she kissed, sucked, licked and generally cleaned both of Farah's feet with her tongue.

The pecking order was clearly defined and Stephanie was at the bottom.

In addition to domination and cliques that formed in the dorm, Stephanie was surprised to find alliances. These alliances were not only women joining together to exert control over other women, but some of them because romantic and sexual.

Farah, for example, shared her bed with two other women on occasion. One was Farah;s bitch, a girl like Stephanie that Farah had come and serve her sexually when they were both spending time in the dorm, not occupied with their duties. Farah would demand this girl (who was quite young) come and eat her cunt, stimulating her between her legs. Farah demanded an orgasm, and if she didn't get one quickly enough, she would abuse the poor young bitch.

Farah also had a lover; a girl that she had sex with but seemed to have a more personal, affectionate connection with. The two frequently slept together, not just engaging in mutual sexual activity but cuddling, sleeping, and showing emotional support.

Stephanie was shocked at this. Farah wasn't the only one in the room that had taken a lover, and the whole idea that any of the women could have formed an intimate or emotional relationship with each other was difficult to accept.

Stephanie had effectively had all civilization beaten out of her. The idea of any woman being any more than just chattel, serving the whims of a man, was strange to her. Yet here it was, in the dorms. Couples forming, romances appearing between the women.

Of course, there wasn't much time for these relationships, because the girls generally worked 16 hours a day. Perhaps this is why some of the women formed romantic relationships; the only time they could interact was when they were sleeping, exhausted, and thus they shared their bed with another woman.

Farah and Stephanie had an increasingly difficult relationship. It arose from the fact that Stephanie was succeeding at being a slave, and pleasing her masters, where as Farah was slowly losing ground. She had been publicly punished at least once.

One night one of Mr. Jackson's wives had come down and called for all the dorm girls to attend a punishment. "Come girls. Attention. There's a punishment tonight."

Punishments were common. Some were conducted in private, some were shown and observed by all the slaves in order to demonstrate the consequences for poor performance.

"It's Farah," whispered one of the girls.

The dorm girls, about ten in all, were taken down to the punishment room, a torture chamber where all sorts of dreaded punishments took place. Stephanie herself had spent a few days there, receiving painful shocks until her mind had essentially broken and she had become compliant, accepting and embracing her position.

Farah was there, strapped to the whipping cross. "At least it is only a whipping," Stephanie said to the girl next to her, who nodded. Much, much worse things could happen in the punishment room.

A single tail whip was used, a long one that wrapped around Farah's body. The slave master, a man who managed the women in the household, conducted the whipping. He showed no mercy. Farah screamed at every stroke, and the girls watched all cringed. Slowly, red welts showed on Farah's breasts and chest, then her hips and cunt.

The welts oozed blood after a few minutes of whipping, and when the whip struck Farah's flesh, blood went splattering over the watching slaves.

When it was over, Farah hung from her wrist restraints, all her strength gone. The girls filed back to their rooms, each feeling terrible for Farah, but also feeling good that it wasn't them. Stephanie especially did not mind seeing Farah writhing in pain. Stephanie had been tortured many times, and it felt good to see that the other women received the same treatment.

Two weeks later, Stephanie became the dominant woman in the dorms. It happened when Farah and Stephanie got into a fight over some trivial matter such as who was causing the smell from not washing properly. Stephanie knew it was Farah, but Farah tried to blame Stephanie. Stephanie did not take the insult this time, and fought back.

It didn't take long. After a couple of minutes of struggling, it was clear that Stephanie was going to win. "Eat me! Eat me, bitch!" Stephanie screamed at the woman beneath her.

This was a common form of exerting dominance in the dorm.  Forcing another girl to put her head between the dominant's legs and eat her cunt, bringing her to orgasm.

Farah did it. Stephanie sat with her legs spread, Farah between them licking and suckling her cunt.

For the first time since Stephanie had been sold as a slave in Malsi, she was in charge of something; she was on top of something else. She had some small, tiny bit of control over her world. It wasn't much, but it gave her an amazing, righteous orgasm that made her entire body shudder and her legs gripped Farah's head so hard she squealed and begged to be let go.

From then on, Farah became Stephanie's bitch. When working for men Stephanie was a good slave, subservient, obedient, obsequious. But in the dorm, she was in charge, and most night's Farah sank to her knees and serviced Stephanie in order to reaffirm Stephanie's dominance.

Thursday, January 5, 2017

The CSJC: A Shocking Conclusion

In time the Social Justice Movement came to mold and redefine the justice system. A new phenomena rose and was tried in some of the larger cities-- The Corporal Social Justice Center. In these centers the accused were tortured publicly, and in many cases the public was invited to participate in the punishment as part of the public shaming ritual of the social justice principles. As part of the Social Justice code, conviction of a crime was not required for punishment to be assigned; accusation was enough.

Marissa stood in front of the four person tribunal in the small room of the college student union. There were three students behind the table, and three accusers standing off to the right.

Marissa was a petite brunette, sexy in a rather girl next door way with long brown hair and a beautiful smile that had long since disappeared from her face.

A tall black guy spoke up. "She's racist, the worst kind."

Another of the accusers spoke up. "I heard from a friend that she was told that she had posted hate posts on facebook!"

The three judges, a freshman and two juniors, looked very troubled. The freshman judge became angry.

Marissa protested, "all I said was that I didn't want to go to the party with him! I don't like him that much, I wanted to go with James!"

"You see!?" shouted that black man. "James is white! Proof!"

The junior student judge behind the table began to pronounce a sentence. "For your egregious and overt racist attitude and actions, you are sentenced--"

"But all I did was say I didn't want to go to the party with him!!!" Marissa screamed.

The freshman responded. "By rejecting the company of a man of color, posting racist comments, and expressing a hatred of blacks--"

"I didn't post any comments, and I didn't say I hated blacks, I said I hated him!!!" Yelled Marissa.

"He is black, you hate him, therefore you hate blacks. Someone here said you posted racist comments, therefore you are subject to punishment. Four hours painful humiliation at the CSJC, to be performed this coming Monday morning. Punishment schedule to be posted on campus at the usual locations so anyone who wishes to can attend and join in the humiliation."

Her accuser smiled a satisfied smile.

--------

Marissa showed up at the CSJC, just two blocks away from campus, at the designated time on Monday. She was outraged at how they had railroaded her, but she also knew there was no point in fighting it. She had to serve her time and get it over with. Move on with life, if they would let her.

She sat in a sterile white waiting room on a hard plastic chair. Six others were in the room with her, most from the college. A total of four women and three men were waiting. No one looked happy, and two of the women were sobbing quietly.

A brusque technician came into the room through a plain white door. "Very well, we are ready for you all. If you will follow me."

The victims rose and filed through the door, following the technician.

They entered another sterile room that looked rather like an operating theater, except there was no table. There were several hoists on the side wall, and poles with bags, what looked like IV drips, and other stainless steel equipment.

"Everyone, remove all clothing, fold and place in the containers on that table." The technician pointed to a table that had a number of clear plastic boxes, about twice the size of a shoebox.  "Shoes can be placed on the floor beneath."

Marissa looked around at the other victims. Her heart was beating hard. She had never been in the CSJC before and she was completely unprepared. She was already humiliated by being told to strip with these others, and the sterility of the room made her feel so exposed and helpless.

Slowly, she began removing clothes. First she pulled her top over her head. She saw two of the other girls doing the same, and one of the girls that was sobbing unbuttoning her top. The guys were also disrobing.

Next, Marissa removed her jeans. They were tight, so it took a little wriggling, but she soon had them off, her shapely naked legs exposed. Next... the bra. Marissa reached in front of her and unclasped. Her breasts fell down in front of her. Next to her, a blonde girl had removed her bra, exposing two huge, hanging breasts. The girl that had struggled with the buttons had her bra off, and her breasts were petite and firm.

Suddenly Marissa noticed the guy standing one over. He was a tall dude with sandy hair, skinny with a hard body. She wondered what he had done to be sent for punishment. But what she really noticed was his cock. He had just slipped off his underwear and stood completely naked, and his cock stood out hard and straight in front of him.

He looked afraid and embarrassed, the poor guy. And yet he had a raging erection. As Marissa removed her panties, exposing herself completely to the other victims and technician, she found herself staring at the hard cock. She was ever so slightly moist between her legs.

It wasn't long before all seven of them were standing naked. The girls were trying to cover themselves, a useless but automatic gesture. Two of the guys had erections, probably from their own and the women's nakedness.

The technician stood before them as they faced forward. "Very well then. All jewelry removed, glasses, everything? Good. Now, as you know, this punishment is to last four hours. For this reason we offer the option of an enema to any person who--"

"An enema?" gasped one of the guys.

"Yes, an enema. Four hours on display with no ability to move, many people find the need to go. For the women, this means defecating on the floor below them, for everyone to see. For men, the spiked dildo is in the rectum, and thus defecation is mostly impossible. It can add to the discomfort. So, if you wish an enema to avoid this possibility, now is the time."

Marissa was sickened by the idea. But then, the concept of having to defecate while on display.... sickened her even more. She would die if a friend came to watch and saw her do that. And what if a family member... "I want an enema," Marissa said firmly.

"Anyone wishing an enema please go over to the tables just across the room. Lean over and spread your legs."

Marissa looked over. There was a series of metal tables that looked like exam or autopsy tables against the wall. She moved over and bent over. Her ass was sticking out now, and she knew all the others were looking at her. At least... at least she had a nice ass. She also knew her cunt was probably visible, peaking out between her legs.

Several others joined her at the tables, but not all. Two of the girls and two of the guys decided they would take their chances.

It was humiliating leaning over and spreading themselves for the entire group to watch, but then, that was part of the punishment. Being treated as things, as less than human, exposed and manipulated and embarrassed by having things done to their bodies.

The technician came by each of the tables and shoved a rubber tube with a nozzle into each person's ass. It wasn't gentle, the nozzle was rammed in without any lubrication. Marissa knew what was coming because each of the people before her had grunted and cried out when it was inserted. The technician spread her ass cheeks, shoved in the tube and suddenly she felt her bowels filling with cold water.

Marissa had never had an enema before and it was a strange, completely unexpected sensation. Her abdomen felt full, there was gurgling and then it began to feel distended. Then the peristalsis set in; cramping as her intestines started fighting the incoming rush of water, trying to expel it. But there was too much, coming too fast, and so she simply moaned on the table and waited for the flow to stop. The water was literally being pumped in.

She waited for about five minutes and finally the technician removed the tube, first warning, "squeeze your sphincter or it will leak out. Go immediately to the restroom and relieve yourself."

The tube was yanked and a tiny bit of water did spurt out, but she clamped and kept most of it in. Two other victims had used the restroom before her and it stank, but it was a tremendous relief when the huge, bloated feeling slowly dissipated as the water and feces were flushed out into the toilet.

"Oh, god... oh, god... oh god..." Marissa said over and over as she tried to get it all out. Toward the end the technician came by to watch her. She had never had someone watch her in the bathroom before, but ... again. She was naked and being humiliated, it was why she was here, so not unexpected. "Hurry," the technician said. "There are two others will full intestines waiting for you to be done. They hurt too."

Finally Marissa was emptied and she wiped thoroughly, going back to join the other victims in the prep room.

They waited as the others finished their enemas, and then the technician gave them a lecture about what would happen during their punishment.

"Your punishment is classified as mild humiliation and discomfort. This specific method of punishment is fulfilled by having each of you sit on an immobility spike. This is what you will be sitting on, or at least a version of this attached to the bench."

It was a conically shaped black thing, roughly the shape of a dildo but sloped from a point at the top to wider at the bottom. It appeared smooth. Marissa eyed it with distrust and discomfort. She was supposed to sit on that thing??? It was too wide, too long!

"These are attached to a bench. What you don't see very well is that each of these dildos has a sort of fur of metal hairs. There is a strong electromagnet inside holding these hairs down in tiny ridges so the external surface is quite smooth."

The technician allowed the example device to be passed around. Each victim handled it. The surface appeared smooth to the touch.

"When the electromagnet is turned off the metallic fur spikes flex outward. These spikes all point down, as if the spike were furry and the fur lay naturally. But as with fur, if you rub it the wrong way it sticks up."

To illustrate the technician turned off the electromagnet. The victims immediately saw hundreds of small hair-like metal wires sticking out of the dildo. The technician took a wooden board and rubbed it along the dildo.

"As you can see, moving down on the spike is easy. Moving up," the wood was pulled up and immediately stuck fast as the metal fibers impaled themselves into the board, "results in the metal spikes impaling themselves on anything touching the dildo. Which would be, in your case, the flesh of your vaginal walls or for the men, your rectal walls."

The entire group of victims cringed. Marissa felt a pang of terror. This device was a horror.

"Basically, you can sit down on these, but any attempt to rise will result in your insides being shredded. Trust me, you don't want to move once you have sat down on one of these."

Marissa felt a tear trickling down her cheek.

"Duration of the punishment for your social transgressions is four hours, which will begin once everyone is situated on their dildo device. Let's get started, shall we?"

The technician led the group into a long empty room with a glass wall on one side and a long bench with a row of dildo spikes against the wall.

"All right. Go head and sit down on your spikes. Women, spread your pussy lips and ease down on it, tilting forward slightly. Men, spread ass cheeks and sit straight down. When everyone is down, the punishment will begin."

Marissa straddled her bench and used her fingers to spread her labia. She was crying while this went on. Lowering herself on the point of the device she felt it spreading her flesh wider. She pushed down slowly, and the point entered, and as it went deeper her pussy was spread further and further wide. It began to hurt, simply because she was being stretched so horribly.

"I can't do it!" she cried, suddenly rising up. The women were all in various stages of trying to sit down on the smooth dildo spikes. One girl had got hers all the way in and was sitting on the bench, naked and panting, not moving.

"Some girls need a little practice. Don't take long though, everyone is waiting for you."

The technician brought out a portable bench with several dildo sizes. "Start at the smallest, move up and down on it to get yourself relaxed, then move to the next size. When you get all the way, then you should be able to accommodate the punishment spike."

Marissa looked around at the other six victims. She then realized there were people on the other side of the glass, watching her. There were about five men there but the number was growing as several women entered. The group pointed and laughed at Marissa, seeing what she was doing.

"Yes, as part of Humiliation you will have an audience. Anyone is free to come to the CSJC and observe those being punished for social justice crimes."

Marissa was sobbing now, but spread her legs for the audience to see and sat down on the smallest dildo. It felt a lot like the size of her father's cock. How was she going to take anything larger?

She moved up and down on it. Her body sensed the penetration and began lubing her vagina. Realizing this embarrassed Marissa even more and she flushed. She was becoming sexually aroused.

She moved off the smallest dildo and onto the next largest one. She slid down, gasping as it pushed against her cervix. It stretched her tightly, her flesh clinging to the sides of the phallus.

Looking up at the glass wall, Marissa saw that most of the observers were clustered together watching her, closely observing her spread legs, penetration, and tears. They chatted excitedly.

Marissa lifted off the second dildo and positioned over the third. Taking a deep breath she sank down on it, feeling it spread and distend her pussy lips. She felt her tissues might tear at any moment, but she pressed down until it was all the way inside.  The observers looked closely and Marissa knew they were close enough to see the folds of her pussy flesh stretched around the practice dildo.

Last one. The last of the dildos, the largest. and Marissa moved to it. Pressing down, using her body weight to force something that felt like it was going to kill her. She cried out in pain. It felt like she was giving birth in reverse. One of the other victims, a girl, yelled, "hurry up. I am sitting here waiting for you. The timer doesn't begin until you are mounted on your device too!"

To make sure she was ready, Marissa moved up and down on the large practice dildo. Her cunt wrapped tightly, very tightly around the thing. The audience watched with delight as she fucked the plastic thing that threatened to tear her flesh.

"All right... I am ready..." she finally said and moved back to her bench.

She grabbed the sides of her pussy and sat. The massive punishment dildo sank deep inside her, and she screamed as it rammed home.

"Good!" said the technician. A switch was flipped, there was a quiet thunk, and the technician announced, "Four hours. The time has started. Enjoy your humiliation. Whatever you do, minimize any movement, and don't try to get up!"

When the time had started, Marissa had felt a gentle pressure, as if the massive spike inside her had gotten slightly larger.

One of the girls next to her suddenly cried out and then screamed. Marisssa wondered what was happening but then when she turned to look she moved, slightly shifting her position and a sudden painful stab happened deep inside her. She screamed as well, and even the scream caused a slight movement of her vaginal walls and she was impaled again by the small metal spikes that now pointed down, toward the opening of her cunt.

The men were sweating and panting, obviously in pain. The entire group had discovered that any movement at all would cause the tiny thin metal wires inside them to poke and pierce their flesh.

Marissa straightened herself, looking straight ahead, not moving. She stared right into the eyes of her English teacher.

Her English teacher had come to the CSJC to watch her sit naked, unable to move, legs spread, and in pain. Her English teacher had come to enjoy her pain and embarrassment.

Marissa sobbed. She was humiliated. She was angry. She was in pain. All this because she had chosen not to go out with a guy who happened to be black, and had been accused of being intolerant. She wasn't intolerant, she had many black friends-- she cut her thoughts short. That phrase had been adopted as proof that one was in fact a complete racist, whether it was true or not.

There was no choice. She had to sit there for four hours, facing the stream of observers.

Her legs were spread. In fact, they were forced apart so the audience could clearly see the source of her suffering-- her impaled cunt.

Next to her a woman screamed again. Marissa didn't move this time, fearful of causing the tiny metal hairs of her own impalement dildo to gouge her sensitive flesh. But she looked in the glass before her, and saw the reflection of the woman. She was leaning over, looking between her legs. A small pool of blood was forming there.

Marissa cried, her tears trickling down her cheeks as she sat as still as possible, legs spread and in pain for the amusement of the steady stream of observers.

After an hour her back was cramping. She dared not move, but she had to. Her back was in paroxysms of pain, and slowly she leaned to the side. She felt the metallic fur of the spike slowly digging into her vaginal walls, and she slowly countered the action with her hips. She managed to adjust her weight with minimal damage to her flesh.

She then tried moving to the other side, and was more skilled at this. Her vagina remained exactly in place, but she managed to lean sideways, then back and forth. She raised her arms and wiped tears away from her face.

The spiked dildo up her cunt was massive. Even if it had not been spiked with tiny hairs of metal, it would have torn her cunt flesh and been miserable.

A group of teens came into the observation room and clustered in front of her. She couldn't hear much of what they were saying, but they were pointing at her exposed cunt and laughing. She could hear them say something about "a good fuck" and "velvety smooth" and "my hard cock"... they boys were talking about what it would be like to fuck her.

Her entire body flushed red with embarrassment and anger. She moved slightly and screamed. Her body had risen but the metal fur on the dildo had grabbed her like some sort of nasty crazy glue and jerked her back down.

Marissa sobbed, each sob causing tiny movements in her cunt, each movement hurting even more.

The audience watching her was fascinated, reacting each time she moved and experienced pain.

People behind the glass were obscured because of reflection. She actually was more able to see herself, her wide open legs, the pool of blood between them, the tears that trickled down her face... but she was able to look past the reflection.

Her brother was there. Her little pissant brother stood out there, staring at her nakedness, her inability to cover herself. She had long suspected he masturbated while thinking about her, and even that he might have taken some surreptitious photos of her in the bathroom. His presence here... he was getting off on her suffering.

Marissa didn't know how long it had been when suddenly she heard a clunk beneath her and the feeling of a stabbing, rasping cheese grater rubbing inside her vagina suddenly disappeared. She sobbed in relieve, and suddenly shifted position. Gently, she began to stand, letting the huge phallus slide out.

The girl next to her looked and said, with teeth clenched in her own pain, "What's with you? You don't have to serve your full time? We've only been here two hours! Bitch!"

Marissa had no idea why she had been released. She was just glad for the relief. The watchers on the other side of the glass were pointing and jabbering among themselves.

The CSJC torture technician came into the punishment room and took Marissa by the arm. "A further declaration and clarification of your punishment has come in. In order to make an example, you have been shifted to a different punishment type. Please follow me."

Marissa felt her stomach sink. She was not released, simply being moved and probably to something more severe. She stumbled along to a room immediately next to the one where she had been suffering.

Inside this room were several chairs, mostly empty. Actually, they weren't really chairs; they were more like metal frames. They had no seat, just metal piping with straps hanging down.

A woman was strapped to one of the frames. She had on a heavy, thick, tall leather collar that kept her head up in a raised position. Her arms were bracketed behind her back, and her shoulders, thighs and ankles were also bracketed tightly with metal. She was obviously in pain and made small whimpering, suffering noises the entire time.

The woman's collar was too severe and stiff for her to turn her head and look; she simply stared at the observation glass with her mouth slightly open and whimpered in pain.

Marissa could see why. She had a long, heavy dildo inserted into her wide-spread legs, and it was churning in and out of her. Thrusting up suddenly and forcefully once about every second and then retracting quickly, ready to thrust again a second later, this dildo was fucking the poor woman hard and fast.

Her cunt lips were bruised, raw, bleeding. She was bracketed securely and unable to do anything but sit in place and take the hard fucking that had obviously been going on for some time.

Marissa stepped back in horror. "NO! NO! Please, not that!"

"Oh, don't worry. Your procedure isn't the same as Annette, here. Her time is up in about an hour. You have two hours to go. Let's get you started."

The soft hum of the fucking machine pounding into Annette continued, accompanied by the soft slurp of slapping cunt flesh as the technician guided Marissa to another metal frame. She lowered herself down into it and found her arms being bracketed in back of her in exactly the same way as Annette. Her breasts were forced out in front of her.

Marissa's brother stood with about 20 people in the observation area, watching as Marissa was slowly strapped into place on the metal frame. While she was in a seated position, the only support to her body was a thin metal pipe that ran beneath each thigh. This became uncomfortable and even painful almost immediately.

Marissa's neck was strapped into place against the back of the frame. The technician gently but forcefully spread her legs wide, very wide, and then strapped them in place.

There was laughter and conversation from the audience on the other side of the glass. Marissa was already suffering, simply being strapped and bracketed in this exposed position.

But then the true horror of what was happening set in. The technician inserted another dildo into Marissa's cunt. It was large, and made of copper. It slid in deeply after which screws tightened it in place. It was rammed inside Marissa's vagina deep, about 9 inches, and there was no escaping it.

A heavy electric cable was attached to it.

As Marissa began to cry in the horror of anticipation, the realization that she was about to be electrocuted, the technician wrapped a heavy copper cable around each of Marissa's large, heavy breasts. This made them stand out sharply, a position that the observers seemed to enjoy.

A heavy electrical clamp was attached to the copper breast restraints.

"See you in two hours. Enjoy." The technician said with a smirk and then left.

Marissa sat tensely, waiting for the first jolt of electricity. Everything was quiet except for the whir of the fucking machine next to her, and the slapping of flesh from Annette's ongoing torment.

Suddenly a bucket of water was released on Marissa, splashing all over the place. It was such a surprise and shock that she screamed just a little.

Then she screamed for real. A long, loud, agonizing scream. The electricity had begun. She couldn't tell whether it originated from her breasts or from her vagina, and it didn't matter. Both burned as if she had been lit on fire and her whole body jerked, tensed, and strained against her straps.

The audience watching her let out a uniform "ooooooooo" as they observed Marissa's tormented body go into contortions, straining against the metal that held her limbs immobile.

As the continuous shock continued, Marissa's eyes rolled up into her head, her screams turned into a gurgle and her arms and legs strained stiff against the frame that held her so strongly that blood began to seep out.

The shock lasted about 30 seconds, but it seemed like an eternity to Marissa. When it stopped her breasts and genitals remained on fire, but her muscles were able to relax and she broke into gasping sobs.

The observers clumped closer to the glass to try and get a look at as much detail of Marissa's suffering as possible. Her brother was there, and to anyone who looked it was obvious he had an erection under his pants and he was slowly rubbing it against the glass.

After a couple of minutes of recovery time, the shock hit Marissa again.  Once again, her entire body convulsed, muscles tensing and straining, a scream making its way out of her clenched teeth. When all the air had been expelled from her lungs, she simply gurgled. She was unable to draw a breath until, 30 seconds later, the shock ceased. She gasped a sobbing breath and screamed again, the scream slowly descending into sobs.

Marissa was being tortured far beyond the original sentence. Her mind was not clear about this, she had little of her rational though left. All she knew at that moment was the environment around her. The dark torture chamber, the secure, hard metal that held her in place, the tight metal shoved inside and wrapped around her body that delivered the agonizing punishment to her.

The technician entered the chamber again. Marissa looked at him with pitiful eyes and begged. "Please.. please... I am not supposed to be subjected--"

The technician took advantage of Marissa's pleas to slip a bit gag into her mouth and between her teeth.

"This won't stop you screaming, but it will keep you from biting your tongue off."

The technician stroked Marissa's breasts tenderly and left the room.

Almost immediately Marissa convulsed in agony again.

Two hours later a gurney was rolled into the chamber. Annette was long gone, her automated fucking punishment fulfilled. Marissa was unstrapped from the metal frame and her limp body was lifted to the gurney where she was given oxygen and started on an IV of saline.

The audience outside the chamber began to move on, seeking another view of a different chamber and some other victim at the CSJC. One particular spot on the glass, right where Marissa's brother had been standing, had some sort of gooey substance smeared over it at about waist height.

----

Several days later Marissa had returned to campus, mostly recovered from her ordeal at the CSJC. She ran across the tall black man that had been her primary accuser.

"So, would you like to go out this Saturday night?" The man said.

"Sure," said Marissa. "I would love to."

A week later, Marissa was standing before the social justice student tribunal, pointing at the black man. "He raped me!" she screamed.

"I did not! I didn't even get close to her, it was a date, and I took her home!" The man protested.

"He forced himself on me, twice, in the back seat of his car!"

The tribunal looked at the man angrily. There could be no tolerance where rape was concerned...

Friday, November 18, 2016

A Successful Slave


One day a beautiful, elegant woman wearing a sensual black dress came to the kitchen and approached Stephanie. Because of her dress, Stephanie knew this woman must be one of the top women in the household. All women were slaves, but some were accorded status almost as high as men.

"Stephanie, I hear good things about you. My name is Bridget, and I am Mr. Jackson's third wife. We are having a party tomorrow, and I would like you to work preparing and serving in the guest area."

Stephanie's jaw dropped. This was an important opportunity for her. It was almost a promotion. To be allowed to serve the men, especially at an important party.

"Thank you, thank you Miss Bridget!" Stephanie exclaimed.

The third wife smiled, and touched Stephanie. "Just don't let me down. This is a big leap for you. If you do well, you will be promoted and have more responsibility in the household."

From talking with Elsa, Stephanie had learned that the highest ranking females in a large household were the 'wives'. While the highest ranking female slave was the 'first wife'. In a household as large as the Jackson's, the third wife was a very important person. She serviced the head male directly, both by managing slaves, the household, and and providing sexual service.

Stephanie was taken to the chief household slave, a woman named Magda that managed all important household duties.

"You will be assigned to prepare certain areas of the house for the party. We shall begin with cleaning the hallway and stairs."

Magda gave Stephanie a small brush and told her to clean the stair railing. Every nook and cranny of the stairs was to be cleaned.

Stephanie knelt and began scrubbing with the brush and small bowl of soapy cleaner she had been given. She was determined to do a good job. She was still wearing metal restrains marking her as a lower slave, and was, of course, naked. Only wives and women in business were allowed to wear clothes.

Stephanie kept working, hard, making sure the stairs shined as they never had before. When she was done, she took initiative (a dangerous thing for a woman in Malsi). She began cleaning the hardwood floors. She had nothing to clean then with, but she had the bowl of cleaner.

Licking up cleaner, she spit it onto the hardwood floor and began licking it up. Slowly, she made her way across the entry hall floor, making it shine as it never had before.

As she did this, Stephanie's naked body was crouched down on the floor, ass up in the air, head down. It was quite a provocative position, and when a male in the household saw her working, he stopped and admired her beauty.

"Where has Jackson been keeping you? You are certainly a cherry slave," the man said gruffly. Stephanie rose up to her submissive waiting position, but the man waved her on.

"Don't let me stop you from your duties. Continue."

Stephanie went back to washing the floor with her tongue, but the man took advantage of her position and unzipped. She could hear his pants and knew what was coming, and sure enough, moments later his cock was seeking her pussy.

Several months ago, Stephanie would have cried rape and fought back. Now, she simply spread her legs slightly wider, lowered her stomach a bit, all to provide a better angle of entry. She didn't stop cleaning. She kept licking as the stranger plunged into her cunt, fucked her, and came inside.

He pulled out, swatted her ass, zipped up, and left.

Stephanie never stopped working, and a little while later had finished with the floor.

Magda came to check on her and was impressed with the work she had done. "Good girl. Except... what is this?" She pointed to a glob of white goo on the floor.

Stephanie flushed with embarrassment. "I... Um... a male came by and took me while I was cleaning. I think some of his cum leaked out onto the floor... and, well, I missed it."

Magda was disappointed. "You know better than this. It is your responsibility to make sure all body fluids are cleaned after being used. Lick it up and go stand in the corner."

Stephanie was hugely relieved. Normally, an infraction such as this would result in a whipping or some other diabolic punishment, but Magda was apparently happy with the floor otherwise, so she simply licked up the cum and went and stood in the corner in a submissive storage posture until she was needed again.

She stayed there in corner storage for about an hour before Magda came back.

"You are to serve at the party. Go make sure your body is shaved and greased, and you are presentable and report to me in the kitchen in 20 minutes."

Stephanie leaped in excitement. She was to be allowed to serve at a major party! Only the best, youngest, most attractive, obedient slaves were chosen for this! She ran down to the slave dressing area, quickly refreshed her shaving of all private areas to make sure she was completely smooth. She then took slave oil (similar to baby oil) and applied it to her entire body. It gave her flesh a very subtle, sexy sheen.

She ran back up to the kitchen and reported with several other girls to Magda, who quickly began giving instructions. Guests were already arriving, and the priority was to serve drinks.

But, to provide some decor and flash to the rather elegant party, each of the serving slaves were fastened in some sort of bondage. One girl had her wrists shackled to a waist belt, preventing her from moving her hands either up or down her body.  Another cute girl with short blonde hair had her elbows strapped behind her back.

All the various forms of restraint made it harder for the girls to do their job, though it was still possible. They just had to struggle at it. The girl with elbows strapped behind her back was given a tray to carry, a cruel complication to her predicament.

Stephanie was restrained by an arm spreader. This was a device she had worn before while cleaning and serving in the house. A simple rod stretched about four feet apart, with a collar in the middle. The collar was secured around Stephanie's neck and locked in place.

Then, each of Stephanie's wrists were locked to the ends of the long bar, so they were stretched out as if she were suspended on a cross.

In this way, Stephanie could take two glasses and serve the guests. It was difficult not to spill, especially when handing off a drink. She had to kneel down to give it to the guest, or to put the glass on a table.

There were both men and women at this party. The women were slaves as well, of course, but they appeared to be very high class ones; favored and given privilege and position by their male owners. The more Stephanie saw these women the more she remembered that she had once been allowed to wear clothes. She had been able to come and go as she pleased.

Stephanie felt vulnerable and naked for the first time in a long time, because she served an entire room full of men and women who were all clothed.

Nevertheless she did her job.

During the cocktail hour, some of the girls were sidetracked from serving and used as amusement. Stephanie was lucky in that she was not, but she did watch as a girl named Sabrina was suddenly taken by two of the guests, a male and female, and made to bend over and expose her sex.

The male guest then watched as the female guest played with Sabrina, pushing objects into her cunt, making her grunt in pain, and then stimulating her clitoris, making her moan in pleasure. This went on for some time until Sabrina shuddered in an orgasm, and then screamed in pain when the vicious woman guest put out a cigarette on her labia.

She was then allowed to continue serving.

Stephanie also observed as another of the slaves was intercepted by a male guest who squeezed and pinched her nipples as hard as he could. The men around them laughed when the slave girl cried out and asked for mercy. In response, each male guest took turns squeezing and twisting the poor girl's nipples as hard as possible, during which she sobbed and moaned.

The male dominants seemed to think the slave girl looked better with tears streaking her cheeks.

These amusements continued during the early evening until all the slave servers were called back to the kitchen. It was going to be time for dinner soon.

For dinner, the slave girls were actually to put on some basic costumes. These were not clothing, but accessories designed to enhance the elegance of the venue.

Stephanie found it very strange to actually put on clothes, to wear any item of clothing at all, after being in Malsi and kept naked for so long. It had been months since she had been sold into slavery, and in that time she had been stripped and trained effectively. Clothes were alien to her.

Some of the girls were dressed only in stockings, held with garter belts.

Magda wore a traditional maid's outfit with an incredibly short skit.

Stephanie was given a corset to wear.

She had never worn a corset in her life, not in Malsi and not back at home. This one was put on her by Magda, who placed it around her body and pulled it tight, lacing the back slowly and carefully.

It felt strange at first, to be wearing something around her stomach. Then as Magda began to cinch the laces tighter and tighter, it began to hurt. It dug into her ribs, pressing flesh against bone and pressing the ribs inward.

The bottom edge pressed against her hips, though that didn't hurt as much as the pressure on her ribs.

Then Magda cinched the waist even tighter, pushing her foot against Stephanie's back, pulling with all her might to get Stephanie's waist compressed to the smallest it would go.

Stephanie would have gasped, but she couldn't. The corset was pressing so tightly she could hardly breath. Every breath was a struggle for her. She began to think of the corset as some sort of torture punishment, though she actually was honored to wear it while serving.

When the corset was finally on, Her hair was arranged and done, face cleaned and scrubbed to make her look pink and fresh, and finally was given a posture collar to wear. This high leather collar kept her neck elongated and her chin up. A small metal spike extended up from the front of the collar to dig into her chin, reminding her to always keep her face up, high and visible to the guests.

Stephanie went out into the party where the guests were sitting around an opulent table and began serving dinner.

For the first time since coming to Malsi, Stephanie actually felt sexy. Her entire experience until now had been as an object. Learning to obey without question, learning her needs were nothing, learning how to work and serve as a tool of the male. She was simply flesh to be used.

As she walked around the table and quietly served soup, sherbet to clear the palate, pheasant as the main course, and other exotic dishes, she realized she was the object of attention of many of the men.

Even some of the women took notice of her. She was gorgeous, and with her breasts protruding from the top of the corset, her thin waist and exposed pussy between her thin thighs... she was sexy.

Some of the men felt her pussy as she served. She made sure to spread her legs slightly to make it easy for them. The attention was delightful, and she reveled in it.

Stephanie even felt her posture collar, even though it dug painfully into her chin, helped make her more attractive and enjoyed wearing it.

Stephanie was incredibly happy for the first time since becoming a slave. She had made it. She was serving dinner wearing sexy clothing, attracting the best men, feeling them finger her cunt, at the best most elegant party of the year.

Her cunt grew wet as the men touched her, and one man, after pressing two fingers deep into her when she removed his soup bowl, raised his fingers to his nose and sniffed. He sighed, and Stephanie felt so proud.

The woman with this man looked unhappy and gave Stephanie a nasty look. Stephanie didn't care. She had finally truly achieved something and was successful as a slave in Malsi. If this pride made her wet and the man liked her smell, all the better.

At last the evening was over. Stephanie was released from her incredibly tight corset (she had been seeing spots before her eyes for lack of oxygen), and had the collar removed. She was about to return happily to her cupboard when a woman came into the kitchen.

"Mr. Franco wishes to have this one tonight," she said, pointing to Stephanie.

Stephanie didn't understand at first. When Magda pushed her and said, "Well, go then. Enjoy yourself, but return as soon as he is done with you," she suddenly realized. The man had requested her to service him in bed.

Stephanie walked naked through the corridors of the mansion that evening, later after all the guests had retired for the night. Walking around on her own, unfettered by ropes or chains, was an amazing, liberating feeling. She was on her way to service a man-- not tied and spread by force, but in his bed, to be taken and made love to.

When she arrived in the man's room, she knocked and upon hearing the word, "Enter", she went in. The man was there, in his bed. He lifted the sheets and said, "Stephanie. They tell me your name is Stephanie. I couldn't take my eyes off you this evening. Come..." He invited her under the covers.

What an honor! Stephanie had never been taken to bed by a man in Malsi before. Certainly, she had been fucked by countless men. All had taken her when she was bound and could not resist, or as a passing dalliance while she was working.

This man was making love to her.

Stephanie gave it her all. She remembered just how good it felt to engage with a man, to make him feel good, and to find pleasure in sharing bodies. Her own pleasure was secondary, but the fact this man was pleased with her was enough to bring Stephanie to orgasm after orgasm.

She even rode him. Never before had she been on top of a man in Malsi, she had always been below. Always in the submissive position. This time, she sat on his cock, felt it sink deep, then rose and felt it slip out. Up and down she went, riding him, feeling him plunge inside her body until finally she felt the cock pulse and contract in spasms and the warm semen spew into her once again.

She slept in the bed with this man that evening. She had not slept in a bed since she had been sold and it was the most decadent, luxurious thing she could think of, to lay in these sheets and feel the strong arms of the man around her.

She never asked his name. He never gave it. The next morning she returned to the kitchen and resumed her duties.

But at that point, Stephanie knew she was succeeding. She was a good slave. She was going to be a better slave, and reap the rewards of obedience and providing pleasure and service to her male masters. Life was getting better.

Friday, October 14, 2016

The CSJC: Whipping Machine

In time the Social Justice Movement came to mold and redefine the justice system. A new phenomena rose and was tried in some of the larger cities-- The Corporal Social Justice Center. In these centers the accused were tortured publicly, and in many cases the public was invited to participate in the punishment as part of the public shaming ritual of the social justice principles. As part of the Social Justice code, conviction of a crime was not required for punishment to be assigned; accusation was enough.

There were 87 students in the senior class at Never Offensive High School. This year, the administration decided they should tour the CSJC (Corporal Social Justice Center), for as adults they would be subject to the punishments that offensive or intolerant behavior carried. These teens were to be exposed to the consequences of breaking the extremely strict, though vague and ever changing social justice rules.

The result of this new social justice system was that everyone, no exceptions, would eventually end up at the CSJC, being punished for some offensive or intolerant act.

The CSJC was a five story modern concrete and class building in downtown Denver. It had two entrances; the front was for those coming to observe the punished and participate in doling out the punishment to the offenders. The back entrance, larger and more formal, was for those who came to serve their sentence. Offenders arrived there, frequently stripped and subject to running a gauntlet of taunting observers, and entered the building to receive their justice.

The class of NOHS filed through the front doors and gathered in the lobby.

"We are separating into three groups!" Called out Miss Cray, "Don't worry, each tour will be the same, there is plenty to see here and none of you will miss out on anything! OK, people with tickets numbered 1 through 30 please follow me!"

Miss Cray went through one of the doors exiting the lobby, followed by slouching, snarky high school students.

Moments later they were all standing in a narrow darkened room with several levels of floor, each with a railing. It was designed for viewing through a window on one side of the room. All the students turned and looked through the one way glass.

The room they were looking into was white, austere, almost like a doctor's office. There was little equipment in it, except for a table, a chair, and a strange machine on the table. The machine was a black metal box with a round wheel on the top.

The students all leaned forward on the railings eagerly, waiting their first official viewing of a social justice traitor, as the condemned we called. About five minutes later the punishment victim entered.

She was a woman of about 30. A pretty blond, she was completely naked. Some of the guys snickered and made comments about her breasts, nice ones that bobbled just a bit as she walked.  She was followed by a bored office worker who took the woman's wrists and quickly shackled them high above her head.

With a quick yank the shackles raised and the young woman was stretched upward, her arms extended straight above her, the ribs of her chest easily seen, her stomach going concave as her body stretched.  A speaker above the audience caught the sound of the victim's grunt as she felt her body being pulled up.

"Class! Class! Pay attention, now!" Miss Cray was talking at the front. "This social justice traitor was accused of offending another woman by criticizing her breast size. Now, as we know from class just last week, commenting on any aspect of a woman's body is illegal, though commenting on men's bodies is considering humorous and not punishable. This offender has been condemned to take 15 minutes of an automatic whipping, one of the lesser punishments as it is her first offense."

They watched as the bored bureaucrat fitted a long flexible stiff leather arm to the circular top of the machine on the table. She then sat in a chair, announced, "Punishment will begin."

She flipped a switch on the black box and the long leather strap began to rotate slowly. When it reached about halfway around a circle, it suddenly snapped forward, so fast it was a blur. The strap struck the woman across her back, making a loud snapping noise, followed by a yelp from the woman as she jumped in pain.

The leather strap continued rotating on the wheel. It took about 30 seconds to slowly rotate back into position and then suddenly shoot forward. "ThwwaaackkK!!!" the woman hanging by her wrists jerked and screamed "AAAAAAAAA!!"

The rotating wheel continued. 30 second later, it shot forward and struck the poor woman again. "WWHHAAACK!"

Again, she screamed, "AAAHGGHGGgggg!" Her entire body jerked and tried to move to get away, but suspended as she was she couldn't. She simply wriggled in an extremely erotic way. Her hips thrust forward and then back, her waist twisted, her boobs bobbled.

The students watching this punishment were fascinated. Most had never seen corporal punishment before, as it was no longer practiced in the home, under any circumstances. Spanking a child was abuse and could lead to long and severe sentences in the CSJC. Seeing a living young woman stripped naked and whipped was an overwhelming experience for some. For others, it was a shock. For a few, it was a secret delight.

15 minutes of strokes; one stroke every 30 seconds, this made for 30 strokes.  When they were done the woman was sobbing, tears running down her cheeks. Her body was criss-crossed with red stripes.

Two guards came in and unhooked the crying woman, helping her to limp out of the room.

Miss Cray stood up in front of the group. "All right, listen up. This is one of the most minor forms of punishment here at the CSJC, reserved for first time offenders and minor complaints and accusations. It is most likely that all of you will at some point be subject to discipline within the CSJC. I myself have been here three times..."  At this there was a murmur of surprise from the students.

"So we are offering you a very special opportunity. If any of you wish to feel what it is like to receive strokes here, at the CSJC, from the whipping machine, you may do so now. With the class watching."

A number of the students laughed. Who would actually volunteer for something like this?

Then one girl named Christy raised her hand. "How many strokes?" she asked.

"Five minutes, 10 strokes," said Miss Cray.

Christy nodded. "I will give it a try. I am curious."

Christy was a badass. She was known as a bit of a slut (though no one would say anything about that for fear of breaking the social justice rules). She had piercings and it was known she took a variety of drugs. That said, she had a knockout body and was really cute.

"Very well, come with me." Miss Cray took Christy out a side door.  The students all milled about, wondering why Christy would volunteer for something like this. A couple of the guys said they had heard Christy was in some sort of bondage or slave relationship with an older guy, that she was kinky, but that was only rumor.

After a few minutes a door into the white punishment room opened and Christy entered with the punishment operator. She had been stripped down to her panties which caused the guys in the room to drool. A few whistled or made comments (all completely against the social justice rules).

Christy was hung up from the chains above, her fine body pulled and stretched out before the watching class. There were a number of tattoos visible that no one had seen before because of their location on her naked body. She looked calm.

The whipping machine was turned on. The whip whirred around and then suddenly lashed out, striking Christy hard in the back. The end of the whip wrapped around her side and to the front just a little. The end flicked hard against her breast.

Christy said nothing, made no noise, just grimaced from the pain, until the third stroke when she yelped. By the fifth stroke she was crying silently, making very small grunting noises with each painful lash of the whip.

The class of seniors watched with amazement as their female classmate was whipped mercilessly by this mindless whipping machine, red stripes and finally nasty welts appearing on her fine, young flesh. Some of the girls had seen Christy naked in the locker room before, but none of the guys had. Well, except for two or three that had been lucky enough to fuck her.

She took the whipping well. When the 5 minutes were up she was standing proudly, marked with ten red, painfully swollen welts. When she was unhooked from the ceiling, she thanked the punishment operator and left.

Christy later joined the group, all dressed. They asked to see the welts, and she obligingly pulled up her top to show the red stripes across her back.

Everyone asked what it felt like. "Like a white hot knife slicing through your skin," she answered. "It actually hurt really bad, but it faded quickly, too. I am just sore now. I bet these marks will be gone in a couple of days."

The class remained while the next victim was brought in for punishment. A businesswoman in her 40s, strong and lean and attractive, she was stripped naked and placed in front of the whipping machine.

Miss Cray explained the procedure. "This woman was accused of snubbing an African American at a party. For this offense she is to be given a caning. Canings are much more painful than whippings, and the welts last longer. Let's watch."

The class watched breathlessly as the machine was fitted with a thin wooden stick.

There was a small wooden stand placed in front of the woman's hips, in order to keep her from moving forward to avoid the painful impact of the cane.  The machine pulled back, then let loose with a sudden loud slapping noise, striking her ass dead center. The woman screamed, and then sobbed, her breasts bouncing up and down. She struggled, trying to get her wrists free from the restraints above her head. She couldn't get free, but as she struggled the cane struck her again.

The woman screamed again, suddenly dropping down and hanging from her bound wrists. This meant the next strike hit her lower back, which caused a sobbing cry, and the woman stood again to try and make sure the cane hit her ass, not her back.

The pain from the relentless, mindless, merciless caning was obvious. The woman cried, sobbed, begged for mercy. Her ass and lower back were a mass of welts and in spite of the air conditioned room she was sweating profusely.

When it was finally over, the group of students moved on, and finally returned to school. They were subdued by what they had seen.

The experience at the Corporal Social Justice Center had a strong impact on the graduating class. Most went out into the world more carefully, watching their words and attempting to offend no one, for any reason.

They failed, and all ended up being sent to the CSJC for varying levels of punishment after their graduation.

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Suicide Club: Simone


The Suicide Club had grown some in the last year. One suicide per month, but they had about 15 new members. That means it had actually grown by 3.

It wasn't easy getting into the club. In fact, it was virtually impossible. By invitation only, it was a very special group of people, despairing of life, wanting and seeking a way out, but unable to bring themselves to actually perform the act. Unable to go through with it.

Thus, the Suicide Club. Join the club, you commit yourself to die along with other members of the club. Each month the group gathered, a lottery was performed, and the person randomly selected would commit suicide. Technically, the group arranged their death; the selected person need do nothing but submit. Last month a young woman was hanged by the group.

The Suicide Club breathed new life into some members. The idea that really, their lives would be ending soon because it was just a matter of time before their number was up in the lottery, was a tremendous burden relieved. They actually lived better, more meaningful lives. Happier lives. All the way up until their number was selected, and they died.

Being a member of this select group, committing to the club, meant not backing out. Once you joined, you were dead. Eventually. Joining was a suicidal act.

And like fight club, there was one inviolate rule: don't talk about Suicide Club. Ever.

Elise had been a member of the club for three months. She was surprised at the atmosphere. The members were happy, positive people. For a bunch of suicidal depressives, they seemed to enjoy life and the proceedings quite a bit.

She was also surprised by the party-like, almost orgiastic nature of the gatherings. She had been told by one of the members that had been with the club for well over a year (and never had his number come up) that it hadn't always been that way. Slowly, with each group meeting, there had been increasing sexual activity, more pleasure seeking, more wanton debauchery.

At first it had been sort of a way of blowing off steam, of showing relief at not having been chosen that month, of sharing life. Not everyone had joined in, just a few who had felt the need to fuck after one of their members left this life for the next.

The last few months, the sexual aspect of the Suicide Club had become more and more salient. Sexual activity occurred before the lottery, and frequently went on during the execution itself.

Elise had hooked up with Omar, a tall, dark and handsome guy that had just been diagnosed with ALS that month, and was just showing creeping signs of muscular degeneration and difficulty coordinating movement. They had fucked on her first meeting, after the hanging of a young woman named Kristina, and it had helped her cope a bit. During the second execution, the drowning of a woman named Fay, she had been seated on Omar's lap, his cock embedded in her, riding him as the condemned Fay had been lowered struggling into the dark water.

The group's suicide method was usually either hanging or drowning. Elise had witnessed one woman hanged, one drowned, and a man hanged. Today's suicide was to be a drowning.

The large yacht easily accommodated the 23 members of the club. They were puttering out of the harbor slowly. There had been hoer's devours, Omar was there and looking handsome though his ALS was causing him some major problems. He was actually hoping to be selected that day, so rather than wait for The Ritual, Elise went below with Omar, stripped off their clothes, and he pushed her against the curved cabin wall as he pounded deep inside her.

When it was time for the ritual, Elise and Omar joined everyone on deck still naked. They weren't the only ones; several of the members were naked, having satisfied sexual lust in anticipation of their potential demise.

A random selection. First, cards were distributed to each person. Dice were then thrown to select which cards were to be selected for the first round. Out of 23 possibles, 10 were selected for the second round. Both Omar and Elise were selected.

It was a bit like Russian Roulette. Very exciting in a dangerous, deadly way.

Straws were then broken; four straws shorter than the others. Placed in a holder that presented an even chance, the remaining 10 selected a straw each. Four had short straws; Elise, Omar, a young woman named AnnaMarie, and an older guy named Henry that had only been in the club for one month.

At this point the ritual called for the binding. To prevent any potential issues with someone wanting to back out, or fight the inevitable process once they were chosen, they were secured during the last selection phase.

Elise was bound hand and foot and lay on the deck, unable to move. Omar, AnnaMarie and Henry were all tied securely and their bodies lay next to each other.

Elise's heart was pounding. Was it her turn? There was still only a 25% chance she would be selected. Fairly good odds, though she had never come this far in the lottery. Being tied, restrained, unable to move made the whole process very real. There was absolutely no backing out at this point.

The last selection was a giant wheel. The two men were considered odd, the two women considered evens. The wheel was spun and from the deck Elise watched it turn round and round.... slowing.. until it landed on the number 22. Even's had been selected.

The two men were released from their bondage. Elise and AnnaMarie were both laying on the deck, shaking. AnnaMarie was sobbing quietly. One of them would be executed. Odds had gone to 50%.

The wheel was spun.... Elise could not look. She had decided she didn't want to die this day. Her life was shit, but... the Suicide Club had actually made it bearable. She struggled, refused to look at the wheel as it clattered slower and slower and finally stopped.

A wave of noise went over the members of the club. "Ohhhh...."

AnnaMarie was suddenly hauled up from next to Elise. Elise was left laying on the deck.

She had been chosen.

Today was Elise's day to die.

She sobbed, crying, her face down against the fiberglass of the deck. They were out of the harbor now, but not in international waters as yet.

Several of the men grabbed Elise's body and strapped it up to a beam, so that she swung suspended half over the water. She screamed and begged for mercy, struggled against the ropes. She begged not to be killed. This was exactly why the Suicide Club was formed; members that wished to die, that had desperately wanted to end their life but could not bring themselves to go through with the final act. Here, the other members of the Suicide Club would enforce your own wishes, even if you chickened out at the end.

Elise was chickening out. She hung suspended out over the cold water, imagining being dumped in it, not being able to breathe, slowly descending into the cold water, leaving the warmth of comfort of the boat, of Omar, of life...

Finally, the ship slowed. It was time. Elise screamed and begged. Looking back on the boat, she saw Omar and a new girl named Ali. Ali was bent over at the railing, as naked as Omar. Omar was behind her, and she saw her breasts jiggle as he thrust into her. Both were looking at her hanging naked from the beam, about to be dropped.

A weight was added to her feet, tied securely.

She knew it was about to happen. She watched other members of the club engaged in various forms of sensual pleasure, watching her as she hung waiting for the final release that would plunge her---

And the rope was pulled; she felt herself suddenly drop the five feet or so to the surface and then the ice cold water splashed and covered her.

It was such a shock. The cold. She hadn't thought about just how cold the water would be. She tried to scream, but that simply brought water into her mouth and nose. Salt water. Another thing she hadn't realized; the thick, caustic saltiness of the sea seemed to actively eat at her sinuses and throat.

She lost control and breathed in. Instead of air, water flooded her lungs.

No one tells you how painful it is to drown. Not only does the body scream for air, absolute panic shooting through her entire naked body, but the water flooding her lungs felt like raw fire. She struggled against the rope to no avail.

The deeper she went, the darker it became. The light was leaving her, as her life escaped her body.

Slowly, slowly she sank down until the weights hit the sand at the bottom of the sea.

Elise continued to struggle for a little while, the pain and panic in her body putting her into convulsions. Soon though, her eyes rolled up into her head, and the lack of oxygen in her brain took consciousness from her. It was over for Elise.

Above, Omar had climax, spurting semen inside of Ali just at the moment they observed Elise splash into the cold ocean water. It had been timed perfectly. Some members rushed to the side of the boat to observe the last glimpses of Elise as she sank below the surface, slowly disappearing in the dense sea water.

Omar and Ali got up, cleaning themselves off.

"What's your name again? And your reason for suicide?" Ali asked.

"I'm Omar. I was just diagnosed with ALS a couple of weeks ago." He showed Ali his left hand, how it had a little trouble moving. The early signs.