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Thursday 16th May 1991
11:14 pm

Fuck. I’m in deep shit.

If I don’t go to jail I’ll eat my kettle. I bloody well
deserve it.

I just drugged and raped a girl. Yeah, I know, no sweat
right?

But I panicked. I went too far. And how’s she doing now?
How the hell should I know? She’s out cold and tied up
in my basement.

Okay. Deep breaths. Slow it down.
___________________
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Thursday 16th May 1991
11:29 pm

Right. I needed a cup of tea.

I have no idea why I’m writing this down. I can only
assume its the drinks inside me. Oh yes, and the vodka
I’ve been knocking back pretty much since walking through
the front door.

Criminals always seem to be caught when they write their
plans down. Am I really fucking doing this?

Fuck it, maybe I deserve to be caught. And this is too
big a burden to bare. I have to offload it.

I went out for a drink this evening. Didn’t plan much
exciting stuff. Just a few pints with an old friend who
happened to be in town.

I took a train to Clapham, then went on the underground
to Balham. Met him at a pub called ‘The Regent’. Nice
place, good atmosphere.

We had a few drinks. A few too many, actually. Got to
talking about the old days.

See, I’ve known this guy from school. He’s one of my
oldest friends, give or take a few other guys. But I’ve
lost contact with them, whilst I’ve been seeing him
regularly for years now.

His name’s Lee Orton. And he’s fairly fucked up. In fact
I could blame him for tonight. But no, I’ve wanted it to
happen, and now it has. I’ve gotta deal, I guess.

You may wonder what’s so fucked up about him? Well you
wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary if you met
him. He’s quite like me, really. Twenty seven years old,
trying to build some sort of career. But he looks nothing
like me.

He’s tall, black, and muscular. He has a strong jawline,
and neat facial hair that blends perfectly into his bald
head. Dark brown eyes, set deep in his face, give him an
imposing and calculating look. But he makes up for that
with a hearty laugh and a good sense of humour. Often the
life and soul at parties, I feel honoured to be a good
friend of his.

But I digress.

He’s fucked up. I don’t know his past in its entirety,
but I think he’s raped more than one woman. Its unnerving
to think, but I can’t judge him. Not when I’ve always
thought about the crime with a certain sense of longing.
And especially not after tonight. Oh no, I can never judge
anyone again after this.

We left the pub at about nine. He’s got work in the
morning, I had a train journey. So we said our goodbyes
and headed our separate ways.

It was an uneventful journey. The underground was quiet
on a Thursday night, and I saw no one at Clapham Junction
when I passed through it. It was eerie, I even had to get
my ticket from a machine.

I thought I was alone on the train, right up until when
we were approaching Salisbury. The rear carriages were
detaching so I got up and walked, albeit slightly
unsteadily, to the front carriage. Only one other person
sat in there. An attractive young woman.

I sat myself opposite her at the table, and she smiled
pleasantly. Something about the smile looked.. off. She
looked slightly scared.

When she looked back down at her book, I glanced at her
for longer.

She looked to be in her late teens. So maybe woman isn’t
the best word. Maybe she is really a ‘girl’? I dunno,
does it matter? Get it together, man.

She looked to be in her late teens, probably around
eighteen or nineteen. Long blonde hair, swept back in a
wavy flourish, adorned her head. She had a pretty face,
with nice full lips and blue eyes. Looking down, I could
tell even through her oversized lumberjack shirt that
she had a good pair of tits. And I remembered admiring
her legs as I saw them from the aisle. She was wearing
tight leggings, that showed off her slender figure.

All in all, she was a hottie. And one that got me quite
flustered very quickly.

I’ve never been able to shake off that old nervous
feeling I get around cute girls. Been feeling it since
puberty, and every day after that. I’m sure it’ll never
go away entirely.

The tannoy called out that we were about to arrive in
Salisbury, and we both looked up and registered it.
I watched her start to pack things up.

She was getting off the train with me.

Then she did something that sealed her fate.

She got up, took a sip from her bottle of water, then
walked off, evidently to find the toilet just before we
arrived. When she was gone, my mind went into overdrive.

Lee hadn’t left before giving me a little gift.

You see, both Lee and I have always drooled over the
idea of drugged rape. I know how that sounds. Yeah,
psychopath a bit? Well, it is. But hey, we all have our
kinks. Our’s just happens to be a bit extreme.

Lee told me he’s working on it. And just before we left
he passed me something under the table.

A little bottle of Rohypnol.

Roofies, Ruffles, The Date Rape drug, whatever you want
to call it. It was in my pocket. And the possibilities
were endless.

So here I sit, with a cute girl about to get off the
train at the same place as me. And she’s gone to the
toilet leaving her water alone and unprotected.

In a normal state of mind I wouldn’t dream of it. The
risks were huge.

But I was still feeling the effects of drinking with
Lee. And this was a brilliant opportunity, probably
the best I’d get in a while.

I whipped the bottle out of my pocket, and unscrewed
the lid. She would only be gone for a minute. It was
now or never.

I nervously remembered him saying something about..
a few drops.. fifteen to twenty minutes.. it was all
a blur. But if something had gone wrong, I could have
legged it. She’ll forget everything anyhow?

I unscrewed the lid, and squeezed several drops of the
drug into her water. After closing it again and shaking
it for a few moments, I placed her water back down on
the table and stowed away my Rohypnol. All was well.

She returned moments later, to see me twiddling my
thumbs. I hoped I didn’t look too nervous.

I was sweating as she sat. ‘Please, God, make her drink’
I thought.

She did.

Thank God for helping me rape, I guess? I’ll ask for
his forgiveness in the morning.

She drained the last dregs of her water and at the
same time, unbeknownst to her, she dosed up on roofies.
The plan I had hastily put together was put into action.

The train took a couple more minutes to arrive in
Salisbury. I kept glancing at her. She was showing no
signs of anything happening yet. That was good, the
last thing I needed was for her to go down on the train.

I followed her out onto the platform and through the
building. All of that took a few more minutes. I thought
I saw her pace slow as we walked, but that could have
just been wishful thinking. She seemed unconcerned that
I was tailing her all the way to the carpark. But hey,
my car was indeed there too. It wasn’t so far fetch’d.

She was definitely feeling something. She stopped by
what was evidently her car, and fumbled around in her
bag for keys. A couple of times she let out a slurred
curse and ran a hand through her long blonde hair.

I went and stood by a car two down from her’s. It wasn’t
mine, but that didn’t matter. She was nearly gone.

She managed to get her door open, and sat down in the
driving seat. Now was my time to interfere, before she
drove off and killed someone.

I walked over to where she sat and knocked on the window.
She wound it down and gave me a groggy stare.

“Whut?” she asked, a definite slur detectable in her
question.

“Um, high” I said to her. “Do you mind if I borrow your
phone? I just need to call my brother, he’s in hospital.”

I was hoping to call on her sympathy with the bit about
the hospital. Heck, I don’t even have a brother.

She nodded, and reached into her bag. It took a few
moments for her to find the phone, and when she handed
it too me she leant way too far in her seat. I could
see beads of sweat forming on her brow.

I took the phone and pretended to dial, all the while
keeping an eye on her. She had sat back in her seat, and
was staring vacantly at the windscreen.

I gave up on dialing then, and just stood there waiting
for a couple more minutes. She was definitely fucked up
now, slipping lower and lower into her seat. I put her
phone in my pocket, and returned to where she sat.

“Come on, open the door” I said in a soothing voice.

She offered no objections, and clumsily fumbled for the
door handle. After uncatching it, I pulled open the door
and bent low over her. I took her bag, and her keys out
of the car. Then gently lifted her out onto the tarmac
of the road.

Slamming the door shut, and awkwardly locking it with the
keys, I began a very nerve racking journey back to my
car. It was a couple of rows away, and at any point
someone could arrive and see the scene I was presenting.
But evidently god was smiling on me that night. No one
came out of the dark, and I was soon at my car.

I opened the back door and threw her and her bag over
the seats. She was like a ragdoll by now, floppy and
unresponsive. A trail of drool was seeping out of her
mouth, and her eyes were unseeing as they stared into
the rear footwell. The sight would have horrified most
people. But it made me hard as a rock.

I got into the car and pulled away, anxious to put
miles between me and the scene of the crime. We drove
out of Salisbury, in the direction of my house. When
we were several villages away, I took a sharp left turn
into a country lane that I knew no one ever took. It
lead to no where.

I pulled over onto a flat area of grass verge, and turned
the engine off. The silence was grim and forboding, a
sign of what was to come. She had no idea what she was
in for, the amount of sick things I had a chance to try
out. Repressed sexual urges that I had fought for years,
would all now be unleashed on this poor little girl.

I took her bag and removed her purse. Happily pocketing
her cash, which counted up to two hundred pounds, I took
a look at her driving license.

Her name was Katie Wells, and she was actually only
seventeen. Her birthday was on August the 4th, roughly
three months time. Taking a look at a school card I
found, I learnt she was from an expensive public school.
Posh bitch.

I threw the bag onto the passenger seat, and climbed
into the back. She was petite, and only took up half of
the back of the car the way she was lying. That left me
free to explore her oblivious body with my shaking
hands.

I reached out and planted a grip on her leg. She did not
respond in the slightest, and with that encouragement I
became bolder. I rubbed the hand further up her calf,
then made my way around her leg to slide up her inner
thigh. I couldn’t bare it. The leggings had to go.

Roughly I grasped them and pulled them down her legs.
They revealed her beautiful lower half to my gaze, and
I started salivating there and then. Her plimsolls came
off in a flash, as did her socks and leggings. There
she was, dressed in only her shirt, bra and cute little
panties. All would come off eventually.

I leant low over her, breathing in her scent. She was
bathed in sweat, evidently a side effect, but that only
made me hungrier for her as I stared at her glistening
figure. I tentatively began to unbutton her shirt, my
eyes almost popping in anticipation.

Don’t get me wrong. I do have sex, this isn’t a story of
some sex deprived maniac letting it loose after years of
abstinence. No, I have regular sex. This was a release
of many years worth of pent up urges, and desires to do
and try some seriously fucked up things.

Her shirt fell away to confirm my judgement. She had a
healthy pair of boobs on her, which I guessed to be
larger than a c cup. I left her like that, because I
found the look incredibly sexy.

Sitting her up in the seat, I pulled my rock hard cock
out from my jeans. After getting him even harder with a
few good tugs, I clambered over to her side and placed
the head of my dick up to her lips.

She was far too gone to cooperate. So I helped her with
her task.

Taking her cheeks in my hands I pushed until an opening
formed in her lips, then I shoved forward with my
crotch and buried myself in her mouth. It was a glorious
feeling, to have my manhood in a girls mouth again. I
have always been very partial to blowjobs. And with this
little minx, in her state, I could do a lot of things
consenting partners would never allow.

I immediately began to fuck her hard, pummeling my cock
in and out of her mouth. Her lips were closed on it, and
she made cute sucking noises as it intruded into her jaws
time after time. I grabbed the back of her head by her
hair and forced yet more cock into her, working the head
into her open and unprotected throat.

Unconscious as she was, she had little to no gag reflex,
and I had no trouble slamming my entire length into her
throat. There I sat, beginning to suffocate her. Always
a dream of mine. Choking out a girl on my cock.

One of the few things I am really proud of about myself
is that I am well endowed. It took a while to realise
it, but after enough girlfriends told me I was something
of a ‘stallion’, I got the message. In any case, my nine
inch cock makes a lot of men jealous and a lot of women
cry. Sucks to be them, right?

Katie was taking it like a pro. Or, at least, she seemed
to be. I have no idea, really, and neither did she.

I withdrew my cock from her mouth, and allowed her own
saliva mixed with my precum to drip onto her beautiful
face. It was a glorious sight.

Her mouth was done. I remember thinking ‘Time to deal
with her pussy’.

I reached behind me and shunted the passenger seat
forward out of the way, then slid her down until her
waist was at the edge of the seat. I pulled off her
panties in one fluid motion, then examined the beauty
underneath.

She was shaved clean, to my delight, and her pink lips
were tight and unspoiled. Either she was a virgin, or
she had fucked very rarely. It didn’t matter to me. She
was going to be one pleasant fuck.

I lined her up, not caring to be gentle, and rammed home
my full length. Even as heavily drugged as she was, she
visibly winced when I started to jackhammer into her with
all the force I could muster.

For several minutes I slid in and out of her. It didn’t
matter that the position was uncomfortable and she was
as cooperative as a limp fish, the nature of the act was
enough to keep me so riled up I could barely comprehend
what was happening.

After what seemed like hours to me, but I think was only
about ten minutes, I could feel my body tensing. My
breath came in short gasps, as I felt myself begin to
spasm. I pulled out of her and shot my seed in long
white ribbons all over her slowly rising and falling
chest. It was heaven, to see her there covered in my
cum yet oblivious to all. I nearly had a shotgun orgasm
it turned me on so much.

But I was quickly coming down. And with that, came the
realisation. The dawning reality of what I had done, and
the magnitude of the consequences I faced.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
_________________
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Friday 17th May 1991
12:54 am

Yeah. More vodka was needed. And I tell myself I’m not an
alcoholic.

As I just passed the door to the basement I listened in.
Still no sound. Not that I expected any. She’ll be out
for a few more hours.

Anyway, after I had a little panic attack in the car, I
started doing some serious thinking, while trying not
to pull tufts of hair out at the same time.

Morals told me to leave her by the road to be found in
the morning and taken to hospital. That’s as far as my
morals stretch, I’m afraid.

Logic told me to take her to the nearby stream and
drown her. Cover all traces, the chances of her being
found would be minimal.

Lust told me to fuck her again. At several points in
the internal battle fought inside my head, lust was
winning. But eventually I came up with a fourth option.
One that appealed to me on all of those levels.

Take her to my house.

I live in a large country house that I inherited from
my parents when they died. The mortgage is entirely
paid off, and it isn’t expensive to live in. It doesn’t
matter that it’s in the middle of nowhere, I work from
home as a writer.

But what’s important is two things. One, I live alone
and with very few visitors. And two, there is a large
system of cellars under the house.

Two things happened to the house. Whoever built it
certainly loved wine, because they built extensive
wine cellars under the main building. And then fifty
years ago, a paranoid owner had the basement floor
greatly expanded to make room for underground living
quarters. These served as a sort of bomb shelter during
World War II. They have since fallen into disrepair,
and some of it is even inaccessible. There is a stair
case leading down to a second floor of basement, but
the door is bolted shut and I have no idea what’s down
there. Not too keen to find out either. My grandfather’s
stories made sure of that.

Keep on topic, man.

So anyway, I decided to bring her back here. It changes
the crime from just ‘rape’ to ‘rape and abduction’ so
that’s bad. But I’m confident I can keep her hidden here.
At least until the fun ends and I find a way to get rid
of her.
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Friday 17th May 1991
4:05 am

Just went and listened at the door to the basement. She’s
crying now. I think I’d better go down there, and see
what’s up.

If she somehow overpowers me…. well, I deserve anything
she does to me I guess. Alright, lets do this.
_________________
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Friday 17th May 1991
04:27 am

Wow. Just got back up from the cellar. That was.. wow.

I’m not sure words can describe how cool it is to have
a girl tied up crying in your basement. Try it some day,
is all I can say.

When I first got down there and turned the lights on, I
thought for a moment she had gotten free of her bonds.
That gave me a nasty fright.

But then I realised she had just wriggled her way to one
of the far walls, and was huddled against it sobbing
uncontrollably. What a baby.

When she saw me her eyes widened and she cried out. Oh
dear, I thought. She’s not pleased to see me.

I walked over to her and watched as she shrank away as
best she could, bound as she was. I’ve secured thick
ropes tightly around her wrists and ankles. That seems
enough to hold her, at least until I think of something
better.

I knelt next to her, and adopted a calm voice.

“Wakey wakey, Katie” I taunted. “Rise and shine.”

I wanted to sound a bit mad. It would keep her afraid,
and stop her from trying to reason with me. I couldn’t
be bothered to deal with pleading.

“How are you feeling?” I asked quietly, focusing on
keeping a slightly crazed look in my eyes.

“Wha.. Ho… Just.. Just get away from me!” she screamed
at me. I was impressed she was still trying to fight me.
But, vulnerable as she was, she still bore a look of
absolute terror.

I smiled. “Sorry. I don’t want you to feel frightened.
That’s up to you.”

She glared at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Let
me go! Let me out of here, you fucker! I’ll kill you
when I get out!”

“No” I said simply, shaking my head. “You’re stuck here,
Katie. So get used to this cellar.”

She didn’t seem to hear me, and continued twisting and
screaming at me. It was quite boring to listen to, but
I let her go on. She would only tire herself out, and I
couldn’t care less how she felt.

However, after over a minute of continued screaming, I
got impatient.

“Shut it, girl!” I told her firmly.

No response.

“Hey! Katie! Shut the fuck up!”

This time she definitely heard me. She looked at me for
an instant, then spat angrily and continued trying to
writhe free of her bonds.

I unthreaded my belt from my trousers, and got to my
feet. “I warned you, bitch! This is what you get if you
don’t obey me.”

And with that, I began raining blows onto the girl’s
bare legs. She screamed out in pain, trying to cover up
somehow. But she had no hope. She was at my mercy, until
I got tired of the beating.

“This will end when you shut.. the fuck.. up!” I yelled
at her, placing a blow on her thigh with each of the
last four words.

The volume of her cries died down, but I knew it was
only from pain and not a conscious decision by her. So
the belt continued lashing down, flaying her legs and
chest. I could see red marks rising up all over her, as
the leather strap struck her hard and true.

“Shut up!” I commanded her. “You Bitch!”

That time, at last, she heard me. She broke down into
tortured sobs, and started shaking back and forth where
she lay. The job was done. I took my belt in my hand,
and turned to leave.

“Try and get some sleep, bitch. You’ll need it.”

My statement sent a flash of fear through her blotchy
red eyes, but only for a moment before they closed and
she continued bawling onto the floor.

As I ascended the stairs, I heard her start screaming
again.
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Friday 17th May 1991
07:41 am

I haven’t slept a bit. And I’m only just sobering up. It
was a long night, to say the least.

I’ve done a lot of thinking between going down to see her
and now. It’s difficult to know what to do in this
situation. There’s nowhere to go for help, no one to ask
and no book to read. It’s all up to me.

Memories keep flashing through my head. Memories of long
erotic stories about sex slaves, that I used to read
from dirty magazines in my university years.

Could I keep Katie as a slave?
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Friday 17th May 1991
09:19 am

I’m decided. I am going to keep Katie, and train her as
a sex slave. I’ve had to convince myself that I’ll be
able to use the same stories I read as ‘tutorials’ on
what to do. I’m just lucky I read them lots of times, I
guess.

It could be expensive, and finance is an issue. This
isn’t something you can generally request a loan for.
‘Hey, sorry, would you mind funding my slave project?’

No, I’ll have to think of something else. I could ask
for a better contract from my publishers. But I’m on
thin ice with them anyway.

I got lucky after university with my writing. One of
my great college friends, Harry, got a job at a
publishing company pretty much immediately. After
a healthy mix of sucking up to him and his boss, I
managed to secure a strong contract with them. But
recently they’ve been complaining about my work, and
saying that its too similar to older pieces.

So I think asking them for a steeper contract isn’t
the best thing to do.

Perhaps there is something..
_________________
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Friday 17th May 1991
09:44 am

After a couple of quick calls, I think I’ve discovered
how to make a bit of money.

It terrifies me. But its certainly better than the shitty
fiction I’ve been writing all these years.

The slave trade.

It turns out, what Lee had been eluding to when he talked
about ‘working on’ something, was bargaining with a guy
he knew to buy a slave girl. The guy was a representer
of a respected trader, apparently, and he looked for
people interested in buying from him. So I’ve discovered
that the slave trade still exists.

It’s a tiny market, with high demands and not very many
suppliers. Hence, slaves are very highly priced. And by
selling them I could make a fuck tonne of money.

I could also go to jail for life. But hey, what’s the
point of living without a little risk?

First things first, though. Katie.
_________________
_________________

Friday 17th May 1991
04:05 pm

What a day. I’ve started work on Katie. And boy, is she
one loud mouthed bitch.

After a quick breakfast, I went back down to see her at
about ten o’clock. I took with me a backpack filled with
all sorts of useful tools. Things I would need to keep
her secure without always being bound. The last thing I
wanted was for my slave to be covered in rope burns.

Once again, when I opened the door, I found her laying up
against the wall sobbing. Did she ever sleep?

As I began laying objects down on the floor, I could see
her out of the corner of my eye. She was crawling ever so
slowly towards the open door. But all it took was a kick
behind me with my booted foot to slam the door shut with
a loud bass note. She flinched, and I noticed a single
tear slide down her cheek.

When I was ready, I untied her ankles and helped her to
her feet. She walked tenderly, her legs sore from their
tight bondage during the previous night. I lead her
through a couple of doorways, to the living quarters
I wrote about. I’m lucky, one of the intact rooms is the
bathroom. That makes things a lot less messy.

The room adjacent to the bathroom was once a living
room of sorts. But all that’s in there now is a lumpy
sofa and a disconnected television. Maybe if she’s good
I’ll connect it up sometime. I see it as important that
slaves have rewards to work towards. Otherwise the sheer
hopelessness of the situation could drive her insane.

Throwing her down on the sofa, I rebound her legs and
left her there while I went to get a few things. When I
re-entered the living room, she was exactly where I had
left her. Her eyes never left me. I remembered reading
about this phase in the stories. The ‘biding her time’
phase. She’s waiting for the opportune moment. But she
won’t get it. And when she realises that, we’ll be onto
stage three of her cycle down into slavery.

I bolted a long chain onto one of the uncovered girders
that ran across the roof. After swinging on it for a
moment to make sure it held even my weight, it was time
for her collar. This wasn’t a fetish of mine, I don’t
like kinky black leather and costumes. No, it was only
for convenience.

I fixed the collar around her neck, and padlocked it
shut with the chain in place. Now she was trapped, with
a lot of hassle between her and escape.

After I untied all of her bindings she curled up into
a ball onto the sofa, and started weeping in earnest.
Maybe that was stage three? Despair?

“Use the bathroom. Wash, cry, do whatever the heck you
want to do” I told her, with a hint of boredom in my
voice. Purposefully placed, of course. “I’ll be down
with some lunch for us later. And we’ll have a bit of
fun while we’re dining.”

She looked up at me and gulped. Evidently the idea of
‘lunch’ with me didn’t do wonders for her appetite.
Hehe, she’d be eating something either way. That much
I was sure of.

I turned and left her there, making my way out of the
room and up the basement stairs. I had work to do.

I spent the time between then performing a few jobs.

First, I took a bus to Salisbury and went back to the
carpark. I needed to dispose of her car. The less
evidence there was of her the better. So I got in
with her keys and steered out down the series of
ramps, onto the streets of Salisbury. It occurred to
me that if I was stopped, I was fucked. I wasn’t
‘insured’ on her car, and the game was up if that
fact came to light. But I was lucky. A quiet Friday
was just what I needed, and just what I got.

I drove out of the city and back towards my home. I
had decided that the safest thing to do was to keep
her car for the time being, until I could think of
a good way of disposing it. I think I’ll ask Lee if
he knows a crusher this evening.

Next I got in my own car and set off for the stores
in my nearest town. The essentials were some more
clothes for her, some cheap food. More drink, just
because I loved the idea of getting her wasted. I
also got a couple of small security cameras. It
will be difficult, but I think I can wire them up
so as to get twenty four hour sight of what she’s
up to.

When I had stocked up, I quickly returned home and
unloaded the car. It was lunch time. And lunch was
going to be awesome.

It was.

I prepared some simple sandwiches, and a jug of
lemonade, then carried them down to her with two
glasses. I left her to eat and drink, whilst I
headed back up and outside to do one last thing.

In the old stables, I found a black leather
harness. And exactly what I needed was right
there waiting for me.

A part of the harness consists of an o shaped ring
with three straps coming off it at odd angles. On
a harness it was mundane. But removed, which I
proceeded to do in due course, it was a ring gag.

I went back downstairs after spending a couple of
minutes preparing it. Katie had finished several
sandwiches, showing that she did indeed have an
appetite. She held a glass of lemonade in her left
hand, her face adorned with a vacant expression.

I sat down next to her on the sofa, and poured a
glass for myself.

She spoke abruptly.

“Please, um, Mr. Please let me go. I promise we’ll
pay anything. The police won’t be involved, I… I
just want.. um…”

She faltered at the look on my face. I was staring
bluntly, contemplating her words. So evidently
stage four was bargaining?

I chuckled. “There is no reasoning with your
master, Katie” I told her flatly. “In fact, it is
a punishable offense to beg, unless you are told
otherwise.”

She swallowed. Katie wasn’t stupid. She knew she’d
gone too far.

“So I have no choice, bitch. Get on your knees.”

I was free wheeling. Making up rules as I went
along. But I was careful with them. I would be
upholding these rules as long as I kept a slave in
this basement. So they had to be sensible.

Katie didn’t move.

“Listen to me carefully, whore. Every time you
disobey an order, something bad will happen. Now
I was thinking about getting this television here
connected up. But that can change quickly…”

She still just stared at me. Lee had warned me
this could happen, especially with a girl so
young and from such a privileged background. She
isn’t able to cope with what’s going on. So her
brain just shuts down, and she enters a state of
complete paralyzing panic.

“Katie? Are you disobeying me? On your knees.”

She was still as a statue. But now her breathing
was accelerating, and her eyes were growing wider
than before. Perhaps the situation was finally
dawning on her?

“You’re walking a thin line, bitch. Down on the
floor, now.”

It was then that she snapped out of her paralysis.
She jumped up and dropped to her knees, her breath
shaky and her eyes wide as dinner plates.

I pulled the ring gag out of my pocket and started
fastening it around her head. She cried out and
tried to fight me, earning a slap to the face.

After fixing on the gag, I kept a hand on her shoulder
as I began unfastening my belt. This served a duel
purpose. As I started to pull down my trousers, I could
see the tempting target that was her back. Clasping the
belt in a firm grip, I slid it along her spine causing
her to flinch.

“Lean forward, and suck me off” I told her.

She had frozen again. But I was confident she’d break
out quicker this time.

With a casual flick of the wrist, I sent the belt into
her back with a crash. She wailed, and jerked as the
spasms of pain overtook her. She didn’t wait to be told
again, and lurched forward to slip my waiting cock into
her gaping mouth.

I sighed, pleased to have my pulsing dick back inside a
girl’s mouth. Dropping the belt on the sofa, I took her
head in my hands and began pumping in and out of her lips
with ever increasing speed. She gagged and gurgled, as
any girl would under the onslaught my particularly large
cock presented her, but had no way of stopping me.

I gave an unusually rough shove, and felt the head of my
cock slip into her throat. She gargled and choked, her
neck jerking back. But my hands stopped her and my cock
remained lodged in her throat. I raised my head and let
out a long groan, experiencing the incredible feeling of
her body desperately swallowing, trying to clear her
airway. But to know avail, all it succeeded in doing
was working the tip of my cock as good as any pair of
hands could. I could feel myself beginning to edge, and
I could feel her struggles becoming more panicked and
frantic. So I withdrew from her throat and watched as
she collapsed backwards, gasping for air and spluttering
out globules of saliva. She gave several loud coughs,
before rising up again and looking at me in disgust.

“Whhghy aghh ough gouighng ishhg?” she forced out around
the ring gag, tears pouring down her cheeks.

I chuckled. “I don’t much like the sound of your voice,
Katie.”

And with that I plunged my quivering cock back into her
throat in one long motion. Her eyes shot wide open, as
the hacking and sucking noises from her neck resumed. It
was evidently horrible for her. But it was heavenly for
me. I pushed deeper, forcing the entire length of my
pulsing member into her esophagus. She couldn’t breathe,
couldn’t see with my belly in her face, couldn’t smell
with her nose mashed against my crotch, and she couldn’t
hear with my hands covering her ears. Total sensory
deprivation, so all she knew was the pain of my cock
viciously throat fucking her into oblivion.

When I was satisfied that she had learned a valuable
lesson, I ceased prolonging the inevitable and fired off
a large portion of my cum into her by now gaping throat.
She swallowed it up quickly, working to have her airway
clear again. I unhitched myself from her jaws and stood
back, watching with contentment as she spluttered back
into the real world.

Her eyes were wide and staring, as reality and clarity
came back to her. I had to force myself not to laugh too
hard as she glanced around in confusion. Perhaps she
passed out a little while I fucked her? Who knows.

I pulled off the ring gag and dropped it casually onto
the sofa. By now she was staring back up at me, horror
and fear emanating from her. When I spoke, she visibly
flinched and shied away.

“So. Katie. Did you learn your lesson?”

She gulped, and nodded slowly.

“Yes?” I asked loudly.

“Y.. yes” she whispered softly.

“Tell me you learnt your lesson” I commanded.

“I learnt my..”

“Wrong!” I shouted. I picked up the belt and lashed it
against her open belly. She cried out in pain, jerking
backwards away from the belt. I continued, “A slave never
refers to themselves in the first person. You will say
‘this slave’ learnt ‘her’ lesson. Yes? Now tell me.”

I watched as the concept washed over her, and she
shuddered in discomfort.

“This slave learnt her lesson” she whimpered.

“Master?” I stated loudly.

“This slave learnt her lesson, Master.”

I turned away, contented, and walked around the sofa.
When it was between Katie and me, I commanded “Get up
here, bitch.”

She was evidently getting better at obeying, barely
hesitating before rising to her feet and kneeling on the
sofa. I stood before her, keeping my face level with
her’s. She winced as my gaze raked over her shaking
features.

“You’re going to spend the next couple of hours alone
down her, girl. And I want you to spend them thinking
hard. How do you want to live the rest of your life?
Because how you act as a slave can greatly affect that.
Do you want to be sold to some immensely wealthy buyer,
a dictator perhaps, and live in a palace with all your
desires provided for? Or do you want to be sold to a
backstreet pornographer to be killed in a snuff film?
Your call, bitch.”

With that, I turned and began to leave. “Use the toilet.
Or just curl up on the sofa and cry. I don’t care.”

As I walked upstairs I heard her begin to, yes, cry.
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