Atonement Session

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Atonement Session Ch. 01

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Author's Note: This story is set in the fantasy world of legal slavery created by Joe_Doe_Stories and expanded by many others. Many thanks to Carl_Bradford and MrSmith27 for their edits and guidance. This story contains no characters who are, or who appear to be, less than 18 years of age. No real girls were enslaved to write this story. Also, some characters' names are never revealed in the story. There's a stylistic reason for that, it's not simple laziness on my part.

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Trigger warning - THIS STORY CONTAINS A BRUTAL WHIPPING SCENE - I worked hard on it, but I recognize that it may not be to everyone's taste. If you want to tell me how much you hate me for writing it, please do so in a direct message, rather than in the open forum.

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In the opening scene, we see two men hanging from the ceiling. Both are entirely nude and sporting erections. Extremely painful-looking erections with bulging and throbbing veins. Their distended cocks bounce in time with their heartbeats and their hearts are both beating very fast. Both men have been injected with penisillin which is a powerful drug that enlarges penises. Due to the severe and excruciatingly-painful side effects, it is illegal to use on human beings. But these are not human beings, they are slaves.

Penisillin is injected directly into the arteries at the base of the penis and causes a painful 4-hour erection while the subject's elevated heart rate and blood pressure stretch the penile tissue and slightly enlarge the penis permanently. Multiple treatments may be necessary to achieve the desired effect.

The man on the left is probably in his mid-30's and fairly fat. If you told a caricature artist to draw a picture of a "Good 'Ole Boy," this is what he would look like. The man on the right appears to be about 21 or so and his entire appearance screams "Ivy League Fratboy". Which is what he is... or rather, what he was when he was human.

Neither of these men is considered human any longer. Both have received lifetime enslavements. They are mere livestock now, they are slaves, and they always will be. They are lucky. Given the seriousness of their crimes, they could have been hanged. Since they committed their crimes in the State of Texas, that could easily have happened. There's plenty of rope in Texas.

In front of each man is a video monitor showing a repetitive replay of their sentencing. It was the moment that they lost their case, their freedom, their civil rights, their status as human beings... and their clothing. If the purpose of this is to crush their spirits, it is working. Don't feel bad, they deserve it.

Today is the day of their atonement session, when they will receive corporal punishment from their victims. In this case, they have two victims, Mistress Harriette Valdez, the owner of the Double H Pony Ranch, and an unnamed rape victim, Jane Doe. Because their crimes were sexual in nature, sexual atonement can be used. It's up to the victims. In this case, since the atonement session is taking place in the studios of the Slavery Channel, we can be assured that the audience is going to get a good show.

Off to one side of the dangling criminals is a nurse's station occupied by two attractive young women wearing matching nurse uniforms consisting of a white hat with a red cross on it, a white satin mini dress, white stockings that don't quite reach the hems of their dresses, and sensible shoes with non-slip soles. They are also wearing white leather collars with red crosses on them, indicating their status as slave nurses. The figure-hugging mini dresses feature a shiny brass zipper that goes from the hem to the collar of the dress. These particular zippers have never in their existence been zipped so high. Why would anyone do that? Right now, they are zipped almost to the bottom of the buxom slaves' generous breasts. The two girls seem bored, but they smile and wave excitedly for the cameras whenever they see themselves on the monitors. An ambitious slave girl never knows when she's about to catch the eye of a powerful man and make her big break in Hollywood.

Wrapped around the back of the studio is a 3-level bleacher filled with Slavery Channel VIP guests. In one of the seats is the President of the Slavery channel. Kneeling at his feet is a 19-year-old collared slave girl. He is holding her leash in his hand and she is wearing the same designer gown she wore three years ago while accepting her first Grammy Award for Best New Pop Artist. Her elbows and wrists are painfully bound together behind her back and her face and dress are stained with the evidence of multiple blowjobs. She is forbidden to swallow while sucking cock. She is unworthy of ingesting the semen of free men. She has been sucking a lot of cock recently. Her long dark hair is pulled up in her trademark high ponytail on top of her head.

The President doesn't use her personally. She is female and he considers the idea of having sex with a woman disgusting. Sometimes he lets his husband Mortie mouth-fuck her, though. Mortie is like that... indiscriminate.

Because of various legal maneuvers, he effectively owns her until he can finish the complicated lawsuit over her copyrights. That may take a few years. Her father controls the copyrights and seems to be content to continue to cash the monthly royalty checks while his daughter serves her five-year sentence for moral turpitude. It turns out that not every leaked sex tape has a beneficial impact on a starlet's career. The President doesn't care all that much. In the end he will own her and various tens of millions of dollars from the copyright lawsuits. In the meantime, the trust that holds title to her AND her music is controlled by her father and it is raking in millions of dollars in royalties per year. The man is in no hurry to settle the case.

In the center of the C-shaped bleacher arrangement is the announcer duo, consisting of Mr. Smith and the slave announcer Kylie. Slavery Channel shows always feature a human-and-slave duo as announcers. Mr. Smith is a boring "I wear a suit and have slick hair" generic announcer guy. Slave Kylie is a busty bimbo with huge hair, plump lips, and an hourglass body squeezed into a bright red satin mini dress. She looks great. She looks sexy. He looks... generic.

Slave Kylie leaps into the air, her bust bouncing in its satin almost-constraints. She spins about and screams at the crowd, "Are... you... READY!?!"

The crowd IS ready. They scream their readiness to the cameras.

Mr. Smith quickly regained control from the impertinent (and sexy) slave. "Gather 'round my friends in the studio audience and online! Here we are today to see TWO deserving criminals receive... their... re... tri... bution-n-n-n!" He seems delighted, he seems excited, he gets paid big money for seeming that way!

Slave Kylie, on the other hand, she gets fucked in all holes no matter what she does, but she tries to have fun with her job before the highest-bidding fan inevitably takes her in whichever perverted way he deems necessary. That's the life of a starlet in Hollywood nowadays. Not that it's all that different from the days before slavery was reinstituted. At least it's official now. Aspiring starlets with - real or imagined - star potential immediately enslave themselves to the best acting agencies they can as soon as they arrive in Los Angeles. The lucky ones immediately get lucrative (for their owners) acting jobs. The majority are either re-sold immediately or leased to the nearest suck-bar. It's an easy scam. Put out a sign that says, "I'm a powerful and important acting agent with power and influence," and watch the innocent and unsuspecting teenage pussy march into your lair and enslave themselves to you for "a percentage of movie royalties." There will never be any movie royalties. Nobody tries, why bother? Then sell or lease them to the nearest suck-bar. Easy-peasy. Lots of suck-bars in California. Most free women refuse to suck cock these days. Apparently oral sex is something that only slave girls do now. Nevertheless, always visit the suck-bar girls and tell them that you're working on "the next big project" while she's sucking your cock. It gives them hope and keeps them docile.

Flashing lights, billowing smoke, and dramatic music accompany the entrance of two people who stride boldly up to the announcer couple. Both of them are free persons. Both of them wield real-world authority over hundreds of people - both human and otherwise. Their posture, demeanor, and clothing tells us that. On the left is Sheriff Donovan, the sheriff of Tarrant County, Texas. On the right is one of the most important and influential slavers in North Texas, Mistress Harriette Valdez, proprietress of the HH Ranch.

"Wow, you two look great," gushed slave announcer Kylie, "that's a great hat, Mr. Sheriff, are you a cowboy?"

"I am not, I'm just a gunslinger, we need hats, too," responded Sheriff Donovan.

"Wow! That's so cool! What are you here for?"

"Justice," Sheriff Donovan replied sternly.

"The State of Texas has been betrayed and is seeking retribution on behalf of Jane Doe, nothing more than that," he continued as he surveyed the crowd, pointedly ignoring the satin-clad slut in front of him. "Jane Doe was a prisoner awaiting trial when THAT thing over there paid THAT thing to let him into her cell and rape her. Maybe that's just fine back in Massachusetts, but we don't play by those rules here in Texas."

The sheriff noted that the governor of the great State of Texas was in the audience and he gave his superior a polite nod and tip of his hat. The governor's naked and collared intern was kneeling at his feet while he idly stroked her hair fondly. His election campaign received an unexpected boost when the girl publicly defected from her father's campaign and enslaved herself to him. Unlike the Fallen Pop Star, her hands were unbound and she wrapped them around his calf as she gazed up at him with a blissful smile on her face. "She'll make a great political wife someday," thought Sheriff Donovan, "she has that adoring gaze thing down pat."

While the Sheriff was surveying the VIP seats, the slave announcer turned to the tall blonde woman wearing an elegant skirt-suit. "And Mistress Harriette Valdez, what's your goal here?"

The tall and authoritative blonde woman turned and looked at her. It was not a reassuring glance, it was the gaze of a slaver that quickly looked her up and down and assigned a monetary value to her appearance. "I am here for vengeance," she stated, "This man harmed and abused my property. Property that is precious to me. I do not allow that. I do not permit that. I will have my revenge."

Kylie stared at her in shock for a brief moment. In the male-dominated entertainment industry that she lived in, women were NOT authority figures. Women served. It was the natural order of things. But this woman stood before her, clad in the raiment of power - a tailored skirt-suit with a bullwhip on her hip - and publicly declared that she fully intended to inflict pain on a man. For pissing her off. By harming her slaves. An erogenous thrill ran through Kylie's body as she suddenly imagined what it might feel like to be owned by such a woman. Would this woman control her? Would she protect her? Would she fuck her?

Despite her disconcertion and budding arousal, she quickly replied cheerfully and brightly, "Yes, Mistress, that sounds like a great plan! Mr. Smith! What happens next?"

Mr. Smith gave her a brief glance. He had been in this position for four years now and had seen numerous lovely and outwardly-cheerful slave girls pass through the slave announcer position, usually on their way into permanent slavery. It was going to happen. There were methods and means to permanently enslave a woman "by her own choice" whether she wanted it or not. A girl in a job like slave announcer would undoubtedly attract numerous fans. Some of them would have the financial means to acquire her... and the President was more than happy to sell for the right price. There were plenty of equally-lovely girls willing, eager, and capable of taking her place. This is Hollywood, after all.

"I'm not sure, Kylie, let's find out. Sheriff, what have you got for us?"

The Sheriff replied "Not much, but I got a few law enforcement officers who will be delighted to assist in today's events." With that, the dramatic lighting, smoke generators, and music began again. From behind the curtain, a sharp female voice commanded, "For-ward, MARCH!" Five female deputies sporting large chromium-steel strapons marched out from behind the backstage curtain, between the two condemned men, and stopped before the Sheriff.

"Group, halt! Left, face!" commanded the sergeant. The five grim women turned and faced the Sheriff. Their chromium-steel appendages pointed obscenely from their hips straight at the announcer group. The sergeant saluted Sheriff Donovan. He nodded in response and walked slowly up and down the line of determined women, inspecting them.

"This man is a traitor!" he shouted. "He is a betrayer! He has betrayed me! He has betrayed you! He has betrayed our honor, our oath, our country, and our badge! He is the lowest of the low!" His voice decreased in volume now, but did not soften, dripping with venom. "He is an oath-breaker... he is... a vile thing that has to be destroyed and cast out. It is your duty to destroy him so that we may cast him out. Do you accept this duty?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

The slave announcer stared at the women open-mouthed, not even faking it. Her professionalism was starting to slip. It would continue to slip throughout the evening, much to her detriment. These were powerful women, wearing uniforms and wielding tools of power - chromium-steel strapons (chromium steel!) - prepared to teach a man a lesson! It was so exciting and... a firm slap on her satin-covered ass brought her back to reality. She gave Mr. Smith a startled look, then quickly got back to business.

"Mistress Harriette," she addressed the commanding woman, thrusting her microphone at her face "What have you got for us?"

Mistress Harriette turned her basilisk gaze onto the young slave girl. The myths and legends of the basilisk - a creature that can turn people to stone with its gaze - are based on a true thing. When Mistress Harriette's crystal-blue eyes met the eyes of the slave girl before her... they locked her in place. It wasn't even accidental. The hapless girl just froze, utterly dominated by simple eye-contact.

Then the terrifying Mistress smiled sweetly and said, "I have Evil Pony Minions."

Behind the curtain, an excited young female voice shouted, "Evil Pony Minions, ad-VANCE!"

A coffle of four human ponies began marching sternly out of the backstage area. Although the normal tack for a working pony is made of supple brown leather, these ponies were wearing black. Instead of the usual scuffed brown knee-length pony boots, each Minion was wearing hip-length black leather pony boots with spiffy white feathering around the ankles, making them look like tiny two-legged Clydesdales. The sides of the boots extended upward to attach to their torso harnesses, much like a cowboy's chaps. This design neatly framed and emphasized their nude and clean-shaven genitals for the viewing pleasure of the studio audience... and every viewer online. Some of those viewers gazing with lust at the young ponies almost certainly knew them in real life, the life that they had before they became slaves. However, each minion was wearing a black leather domino mask, which concealed their former human identities as they marched into the studio with flawless precision.

This precision movement caused all eight of their perky bell-tipped breasts to bounce in unison. Several studio cameramen immediately zoomed in on the titillating display, even one or two who weren't supposed to.

The file of ponies was flanked by a pair of pony grooms. On the left was a petite Asian girl, on the right, an equally-petite and very busty blonde. Each slave groom was wearing a collar, knee pads, a web belt with a tool pouch... and nothing else. They were both barefoot, as is proper, but they marched in time with the ponies anyway.

The group looked neither left nor right as they marched between the two hanging evildoers. The evildoers... just hung there helplessly. These were two men who reveled in subjugating and abusing people unable to fight back. Now, THEY were the helpless ones and some of their victims had returned to haunt them.

The masks, precision-drilled march and the synchronized clop-clopping of their hooves gave the Evil Pony Minions a menacing air. They approached the announcers and their guests. The Asian slave groom on the left, shouted "Evil Pony Minions, halt!" The file of ponies clop-CLOP-ed to a halt. While they were approaching the announcers, moving in unison, they seemed quite intimidating. But now that they were standing next to them, the announcer group could see that all four of these ponies were actually quite slender and pretty. Even with the hooved boots adding 4 inches to their height, the tallest was only 5'7".

"Ponies, LEFT face!" All four ponies turned toward their Mistress as one, keeping their eyes straight ahead on the horizon, looking neither left nor right. Unlike humans, ponies do not need to look where they are going. They are guided - they follow the commands of the person controlling them.

"Ponies kneel!" All four ponies knelt as one. They were well-trained ponies, and well-trained pony teams move in unison.

"Thanh, Sandy, unleash my minions!" Mistress Harriette commanded.

The Asian groom, apparently Thanh, quickly unlocked the coffle strip and withdrew it from the loops of their collars while the blonde groom moved down the line of ponies uncuffing their hands. Working ponies normally wear arm binders. But not tonight, these ponies had a different sort of work to do, and they needed to use their hands to do it.

Mistress Harriette looked down at them smiling. They had pulled that off perfectly and she was very pleased with them. Although none of them were aware of this, she was planning on putting a percentage of the revenue from this event into their peculiums. Her pleasure ponies normally received a percentage of the revenue that Harriette earned from selling their sexual services and they had been pulled from those duties for some time while being prepared for this display. It was only fair that they receive a cut of the earnings and Harriette was always scrupulously fair, even to her slaves.

"Attend!" she commanded. All four ponies immediately turned their faces toward her and smiled. She was pleased with them, they could see it, and it made them happy.

The slave announcer stepped forward to stand next to Harriette and squealed in delight. "They're so cute!"

Harriette continued smiling down at her property and responded to the satin-clad slut, "No, they're evil. Usually they're just plain old cute, but tonight they're going to be cute AND evil." All four ponies immediately adopted stern expressions, but it just made them cuter, despite the black domino masks.

"Oo! And I love their hair, that's cute, too! It looks just like Fallen Pop Star's hair. Did you know she tried to copyright that?" Each evil pony minion was wearing her mane in a high ponytail, much like the cum splattered former celebrity kneeling at the feet of the VIPs in the front row.

"Ponies have manes," Harriette said, not bothering to look at the slut in the satin costume. Slaves did not wear clothing. It was forbidden. But if a slave needed work-related garb, it was permitted. Slave entertainers wore "costumes", not "clothing". The slave nurses were wearing sensible shoes with non-slip soles. The slut next to her was wearing high heels and a glamorous dress. She was an entertainer, and she needed to present an entertaining appearance. And so it was permissible. "Sandy, bring me my torture devices."