Repod Ch 07 Domina

RECAP:

Set in the future, May of 2031

, after a catastrophic economic collapse, the United States legalized slavery in an effort to raise sufficient funds for a recovery. At first, enslavement was limited to felons but, when selling convicts proved inadequate to save the economy, consensual slavery was legalized as well. This allowed banks to demand not only real estate and cars as collateral but to also require debtors to pledge themselves as security for the loan.

Eager to open their own computer custom tailoring service, fashion models Nicky and Kristen took out a business loan with their servitude in slavery as collateral and, when they were unable to keep up with the payments, the young women were repossessed and sold at auction to a slavery temp agency run by Edith Wagner. The narrator of this chapter is Kristen.

Friday, May 17, 2031

After the auction, Nicky and I were delivered to Edith Wagner's business, a rent-a-slave and mail order sex slave service known as Prime Servitude Rentals and Leases, Inc. If you had the coin, Prime Servitude would rent you an attractive slave for sex, harem, fetish, pornography, domestic service, statuary, modeling, or for any number of sexually themed events, just about anything your perverted little heart desired. Prime Servitude also sold slaves, mostly selects or some of the better looking standards, as concubines. If the price was right, the pussy was yours.

Standing before my new owner with my heart pounding so hard that I could hear it in my ears and I was frightened to the point of trembling. I had no idea what to expect. As a category II slave, I was absolutely helpless. Being a category II slave meant that I could be subject to all sorts of painful corporeal discipline. Any number of excruciating punishments could be inflicted upon me at a whim. Ms. Wagner could even sell me to a bordello in another country or to a plantation or work camp for hard labor. The bottom line was that I was totally at Ms. Wagner's mercy.

Ms. Wagner could order me to make pornographic movies, pose naked for photos in embarrassing positions, have me perform fetishes such as bondage, ponygirl races, pet play, oil wrestling, sexy and demeaning contests, or force me to display myself naked in public and I'd have to obey. A few days ago I would have considered doing any of such demeaning public depravity as inconceivable but, now that I was a slave, it was about to become my daily lifestyle.

"Kneel slaves," Ms. Wagner ordered. We knelt. "For the next 75 months of your life, I will be your domina." Although Ms. Wagner was a former customer of ours and knew us well, if she had any compassion for Nicky or I, Ms. Wagner hid it well.

Domina was a term reserved for the female owner of lots of slaves, dozens or more. A domina didn't usually manage the slaves; she usually managed the overseers and guards. To a slave, the domina was the boss of bosses, a position of supreme power, and a person to be feared.

"Let's get one thing straight right now, you're both category II's, so you're both subject to physical punishments. That means I don't have to put up with any of your crap. I can legally beat the shit out of you if I want to. I can make any day the worst day of your entire life with just a snap of my fingers."

As Ms. Wagner snapped her fingers, a female guard delivered a stinging blow to the bottom of my left foot with a rod while the male guard serviced Nicky's foot with a caning. Crying out in pain, I grabbed my foot. Any illusion I had that Ms. Wagner might treat us with empathy vanished.

"Around here we don't do things the right way; we don't do things the wrong way and we certainly don't do things your way. This is my business, you are my slaves, and around here we do things only one way, and that's my way, period. Whether it is right or wrong or whether you agree with it is not important."

As Ms. Wagner harangued us, one of the guards sat a metal box, like a metal fishing tackle box, on the desk and opened it. Inside were some alcohol swabs, lots of big needles in plastic tubes, the type used to in body piercing, latex gloves, alcohol swabs, forceps, clamps, and a lot of surgical steel body jewelry, mostly rings of different sizes, as well as studs, barbells, bent barbells, and body jewelry.

It was clear that the box was a body piercing kit, that Nicky and I were about to get punctured, and that our bodies soon would be festooned with surgical decorations. The only questions now were where I was about to be perforated and what jewelry was to be added to me.

"Remember, I am not only your domina, I am the law. Willful disobedience of my order is a crime that is punishable both by physical discipline and by a minimum of 30 days additional servitude. If you disobey me, I'll see to it that you additional time and I'll see to it that both of you get lots of pain. Now, stand up and take off your clothes."

I felt a blush of embarrassment redden my face as I undressed. It was bad enough that I was forced to be naked in front of these people but Ms. Wagner knew me, she was a former customer, and that seemed to make it worse. As Nicky and I stood up and stripped, the female guard removed forceps and alcohol swabs from the box as well as opening a couple of plastic tubes with body piercing needles. I had a really bad feeling about this.

"If you have a favor to ask of me, a complaint, or just want to make a comment, I've got one thing to say to you: shut the fuck up," Ms. Wagner said. "I'm not here to hear your crap. That's not what this is about. Let me assure you, this isn't about you. I'm running a business and you're just an asset. The only words I ever want to hear from either of you are

yes domina

. I want to hear you say it."

"Yes Domina." Both Nicky and I said.

"Good," Ms. Wagner, continued, "You both need to understand that you're mine. I own you. You're my property and you're going to do whatever I say without question and without argument."

The female guard started putting on some latex gloves while the male tore open an alcohol swab and picked out a couple of large body piercing rings. Since there were two rings, it appeared that my nipples were about to be the first victims. I winced. My nipples were sensitive and I liked my titties just the way they were; nevertheless, their lancing seemed imminent.

"I don't have a sense of humor, I don't have compassion, and I don't have patience," Ms. Wagner said. "I have a business to run and that business is making money by hiring you out as sex slaves. Your lips, your tits, your twat and your ass belong to me and I'm going to rent them out to rich men who're going pay me a lot of money to put their dicks in them. It's that simple; that's my business plan in a nutshell. And, if you don't like it, I don't give a shit, you're going to do it."

Since Nicky and I were only category II slaves, we were supposed to be used only for fetish, domestic, labor, statuary, and other work that didn't involve sex. It was the "you can feel but can't fuck" rule. We could be required to touch and be touched by customers, even to the point of cuddling with them naked all night and even obligated to touch their intimate areas, but we could not be forced to have sexual intercourse. Legally only category III slaves could be used for sex in the United States. Unfortunately, Ms. Wagner didn't appear to have any intention of abiding by this distinction.

"You don't get a say in how I'm going to use your body because it doesn't belong to you anymore," Ms. Wagner continued, "it belongs to me - I bought it and I can do with it whatever the hell I want. Your job as a slave is to make my clients glad they paid all that money to rent you so that they will rent your twat again and again and again."

Call me a sissy or call me what you want but I hate needles, I really hate needles, and I always have. To make matters worse, these needles were

huge

. I'm the first to admit that I don't do well with pain, any pain; I've never tolerated pain well and all those needles in that box looked like a shit load of agony. Fearfully, I shuttered as I contemplated how many places I was about to be punctured in and where.

Without warning, the male guard held my head while the female guard swabbed my nose with an alcohol pad, clamped my septum with a pair of forceps and then shoved a large needle through it.

"Ahhh," I grunted and flinched from the sting. It hurt a little but at least it was over quick and wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be. It was now apparent that I was to be fitted with an oversized nose ring through my septum. Known as a training ring, it was unusually ring for a nose ring; large enough that they could attach a lanyard to it and lead me around by my nose with a leash. I could feel my face becoming flush with embarrassment as I contemplated the humiliation of being lead around in public by a ring in my nose.

At first slave owners only used the training ring as punishment for new slaves to remind them of their place. But, as fresh meat (the newly enslave girls) were more valuable and brought higher prices than veteran slaves, skinners (slave owners in the skin trade, fetish, prostitution, pornography, etc.) found that piercing new slaves with a training ring often made them more desired by customers. The training ring let the client know that the slave was a newbie. Obviously, Ms. Wagner was going to make me to wear an oversized ring in my nose for a few months and lead me around like a pig. I could see that Prime Servitude wasn't going to miss any opportunity to make more money off skinning (forcing a slave into the skin trade) me.

"Let's go ahead and get them tagged Olga," Ms. Wagner said to the female guard as she retrieved a couple of ear-tags from a desk drawer.

A slave tag looked like a canine dog tag that was hung from an earring. The tag read "Property of Prime Servitude Rentals and Leases, Inc." on one side and Prime Servitude's website on the back. As Nicky and I already had our ears pierced, the guards used the existing holes and fastened an ear tag to both of our left ears. The clasp on the earing had a lock that, once snapped on, the tag could only be removed from my ear by cutting it off.

Olga tore open a couple of new alcohol wipe packets and took several more body piercing needles out of the box.

Ms. Wagner turned to the male guard, "Paul, cuff them."

I felt a pang of fear shoot down my spine and a sinking feeling of dread. I didn't know exactly why Ms. Wagner wanted me handcuffed but I was sure that it involved piercing my body with more needles and I was sure that I wasn't going to like it. I was only minutes into my servitude as a slave and it was already off to a really shitty start.

Paul handcuffed us while Olga began opening a couple more needle tubes and withdrew two more of the large body piercing needles, one for me and one for Nicky. Even Ms. Wagner opened one of the needle tubes and got a needle for herself.

Naked, helpless, and incredibly vulnerable, it was apparent that I was about to get punctured but where. Would the body piercing needles be shoved through my nipples, my nostril, my lip, my labia, my belly button, my eyebrow, my tongue, or my clit or all of the above, even more? One thing was for sure, Ms. Wagner didn't have me strip nude just for the view. She had me undress so that she could poke holes in some of my private parts but which ones?

It's very, very, unsettling to be handcuffed and completely naked in front of so many sharp object, particularly when you know that they're about to be jabbed in your private places. I didn't want needles poked through me or metal jewelry impaled through my flesh in my most sensitive and intimate areas but, powerless to resist, I began to nervously fidget in my anxiety.

"Let's get straight to the point," Ms. Wagner said. "I'm what's known in the business as a skinner and you're going to be skinned. That's why I bought you. I plan to use every orifice and every limb on your body to make me money. So, just to be clear on where we stand, I want to hear you acknowledge that I own your body. And, to make sure we're on the same page, I want you to admit to my ownership of you piece by piece."

I gasped in astonishment and recoiled as Olga reached over, grabbed my clitoris between her thumb and forefinger and then clamped down on it with a pair of forceps and pulled my clit out from my body. Olga then picked up a body piercing needle. Although I knew that, as a slave, I no longer owned my own body, I was shocked at what a complete loss of common decency, privacy, and control I was experiencing. Olga just grabbed my clit with a steel tool without any warning or my consent. You'd think that they'd at least tell me that it was about to happen before they grabbed my intimates. This type of abuse would be criminal if imposed upon a free woman but seemed as if it was simply

de rigueur

for the treatment of a lowly slave like me.

As Olga lined the needle up on my clit, I cringed. I was fond of my clit, very fond. My little clit had been extremely nice to me and it had provided me with an immense amount of pleasure both in enjoying sex with others as well as when I was simply pleasuring myself. My tiny clit and I had shared countless wonderful experiences together and I was really hoping to enjoy a lot more fun with it in the future. It was one of my most cherished places on my body and I really, really, didn't want to see any harm come to it. As far as I was concerned, my precious little clit didn't need to be wounded, have a hole punctured in it, or to be mashed and tugged on by a stranger with a steel clamp. I thought my clit was perfect just as it was, but it didn't appear as if I was going to get a vote in the matter.

"So, I'm going to ask you who owns various parts of your body and if you both don't agree to my title," Ms. Wagner looked right at Nicky and caressed Nicky's left boob with her needle, "I'm going to puncture whichever body part you think you still own." Ms. Wagner paused for dramatic effect. "But, to make this interesting, if you claim ownership of any part of your body, I'm not going to put a needle through you. No, that would be too easy." Ms. Wagner chuckled as she looked at Nicky and then turned to me. "Any body part you think you still own, I going to jab on Kristen's body instead of yours and vice versa." I flinched as Ms. Wagner raked her needle lightly across my naked breast.

"Oh shit," I mumbled as dread began welling up inside me.

"Who owns your cunt?" Ms. Wagner said to Nicky.

"You do Domina," I said quickly but Nicky remained silent and looked fiercely resolute.

Ms. Wagner stood in front of Nicky repeated the question, "Who owns your cunt?"

"Nicky, please," I said as I could feel my forehead begin to sweat.

But as the seconds ticked passed without and answer, I braced myself, sure that the next word out of my mouth would cause Olga to stab me.

"You do Domina," Nicky finally grumbled, to my great relief.

"And you agree that I can put a dick in your cunt any time I like?"

I cringed. Now Ms. Wagner was asking us to voluntarily surrender any last protections we had as being only a category II slave. On the ride from the auction house to Prime Servitude, I became resigned to my fate and resolved to do whatever I could to keep from being exported or separated from Nicky, even if that meant being reduced to a mere sex slave but I wasn't sure at all that Nicky would do that.

"Yes Domina," I said but Nicky looked incensed and determined. Fifteen seconds of uncomfortable silence passed by and still Nicky hadn't given a response. I was sure that my poor little clit was toast.

"I need an answer," Ms. Wagner said.

"This is bull shit, total bull shit," Nicky shot back angrily. "You know damn well that were just category II's and we don't have to submit to sex. There's no way in hell that we're going to agree to being your whores."

"Final answer?"

"Final answer!"

"Well, then," Ms. Wagner said, "if I can't make money off you by putting men inside you, I'll just have to be satisfied by putting what I can in you and the law allows me to pierce you," Ms. Wagner paused to correct herself, "or should I say, the law allows me to pierce Kristen."

"Me?" I asked. "Why me?"

"Do you really think that we'd agree to be sex slaves just to avoid being stuck with a few silly needles?" Nicky insisted. "You dream."

Ms. Wagner calmly looked down at the body modification kit, "I've got lots of needles."

"Huh," Nicky scoffed, "you didn't bring enough."

I looked at Nicky in shock.

Ms. Wagner seemed doubtful, "There must be 50 needles in that box."

Olga began emptying needles from the tackle box onto Ms. Wagner's desk. There were dozens of them, too many to count. In desperation I turned at Nicky but she seemed as defiant as ever.

"You'd really let me stick 50 needles into Kristen?" Ms. Wagner continued. "Seriously?"

"Nicky, that's a lot of needles," I whispered to her with a tinge of panic in my voice. "That's a hell of a lot of needles."

"You completely underestimate Kristen," Nicky said confidently. "She's tough, really tough, a hell of a lot tougher than just a few needles sticks."

"We've got a lot more needles in the storeroom," Ms. Wagner said. "We've probably got close to 100 altogether."

Nicky laughed, "Then you'd better send someone to fetch the rest of them because that little pile there isn't close to enough."

I gasped. "Uh, Nicky, we need to talk."

Ms. Wagner sighed, "Well then, Paul, you'd best go to the storeroom and bring the rest of the needles; it looks like we're going to need them."

"Yes ma'am," Paul said as he left the room.

"Seriously Nicky," I pleaded. We really, really, need to talk about this." But, so caught up in her indignation and rage, Nicky seemed oblivious.

"I could stick them under Kristen's fingernails, through her nipples, in her toes, in her ass, all through her sex, in her legs, all the way through her arms, in her arm pits, and anywhere else that could really hurt," Ms. Wagner said. "I could poke delicate little Kristen with dozens and dozens of sharp little needles all over her body. She'd be in a whole lot of pain. You wouldn't want that to happen to poor little Kristen would you? She seems like such a nice young woman."

"No. That's really not necessary," I said. "We don't want that do we Nicky?" Wide eyed and desperate, I looked at Nicky but to no avail.

"I'm not doing this just for me," Nicky insisted, "I'm doing it for Kristen as well. You don't know Kristen like I do. She'd never sell her dignity off so cheaply. She's no coward. Kristen's only giving in to try to save me from pain but it won't work. We'll never give in to your cheap tricks."

"No, wait, Nicky let's think about this for a second," I whispered urgently as I stared at the massive pile of body piercing needles on the desk in front of my naked and defenseless body.

"This isn't legal," Nicky protested.

"I don't care," Ms. Wagner replied. "I've spent a shit load of money on you girls and I'm going to make good on my investment. And, if it takes sticking every needle I've got into sweet little Kristen to do it, so be it."

"Can I have just a couple of minutes alone with Nicky," I begged. "It's really important. I think there's been a little misunderstanding. All I need is two minutes and I think I might be able to resolve this."

Neither Nicky nor Ms. Wagner paid me any mind. Paul returned from the storeroom carrying a couple of boxes labeled "Assorted Body Piercing Needles." The boxes were big enough to hold a hell of a lot of needles. I could feel my stomach tighten in fear. It seemed inevitable that I was about to spend the rest of my afternoon becoming a human pin cushion one needle at a time. By now I was sweating bullets but Nicky seemed unmoved.