Theos Bdsm Slave Service

Author's Note:

I have added this preamble to make sure that readers know what they're getting when they read this story. The first version drew a few nasty comments from readers who were grossed out by the graphic and occasionally brutal non-consensual content. (Why anyone who is easily grossed out would read past the first couple of paragraphs is a mystery, but ... ) It probably didn't help that "non-consensual" was buried in the tags instead of having the entire story posted as such.

So fair warning: this story features graphic and sometimes brutal non-consensual sex and bondage, practiced on real slaves who have no choice in the matter. It's not primarily torture porn -- that isn't at all my taste -- but things do get out of hand in places.

So the story is still here, in more or less its original format, for those who did like it. The rest of you might want to move on.

My name is Theo, and I run an extremely high-end brothel that caters to clients with a taste for pretty extreme BDSM.

Believe me, this is a niche market that is not well served by other establishments. No prostitute in her right mind will submit to bondage, not at any price. Bondage is about surrendering control, and surrendering control to a stranger whose tastes in fun may turn out to be the total opposite of yours is just a terrible idea.

I get around this by using slaves. I mean real slaves, not the weekend pretend slaves that you might meet at a BDSM club. Some I've bought from slave traders, others I've captured myself -- I could tell you some interesting stories about the slave-capture business, but I'll save that for another time. Suffice it to say that I never capture a slave in the same general area twice, and sometimes from several provinces away. Trump may be totally making up stories of women being brought bound and gagged from Mexico -- it's much simpler to lure women with false promises of a better life and enslave them later -- but I have no compunctions about bringing women bound and gagged from another part of the country in the back of a van with blacked-out windows. I treat them well and keep them healthy, well-nourished, and as reasonably content as could be expected under the circumstances, but they aren't here of their own free will, and they can never leave.

This solves some problems, since I can let clients do almost anything they want with them, within a few limits that I'll describe later on. But it isn't a cheap or simple business. I don't have to pay them a salary, of course, but aside from the initial outlay for a trader-bought slave, there's ongoing expenses for food, regular STD and general health checks, and space for living quarters, plus staff and security costs. I also maintain a small gym, and insist that each slave work out for a minimum of an hour a day to keep trim and in shape. Their routine includes a set of Kegel exercises to make sure that their thoroughly-used vaginas never get sloppy. All of this really adds up, but because my service is so exclusive, I can charge a fortune for it, and usually only have to work each slave once a day to turn a tidy profit. This isn't a fast-turnover trick pad I'm running here.

Security is always a concern. My establishment is in a windowless sub-basement, and when they are not working, are under constant camera surveillance. I can't afford to have even a single escape, which would blow away the entire operation along with the next twenty years or so of my freedom. To make absolutely sure, my staff doctor, whom I pay way, way above Health Canada scale to make sure he keeps quiet, implants a tiny explosive charge at the base of each new slave's skull, just above the hairline where the tiny scar is invisible. (While they are under sedation, he also ties their tubes to make sure that I don't have any money-makers out of service because of pregnancy.)

The charge includes a radio receiver that picks up an invisible fence inside the doorways, somewhat like a dog's shock collar. If a slave tries to make a break for the door, ka-bang, brains on the ceiling. I always demonstrate for a new slave with a mannequin head on a wheeled pushcart. I give it a push in the direction of the door, and bang, it showers both of us with bits of plastic and singed artificial hair. The slave always opens her mouth in shock and instinctively puts her fingers to the barely-detectable bump under her skin. I've only ever had a single slave test it out by making a break for the door just as a client opened it, and it worked exactly as it was supposed to. I lost a slave, but I have gory camera footage that I can use as an extra convincer for a new slave.

Because this is a BSSM establishment, I have an appropriate way of displaying the slaves that clients can choose from. They are displayed in a line in a showroom. Each has her hands restrained behind her back with leather cuffs, and her feet buckled into a spreader bar. Her mouth is securely gagged with a wide strip of microfoam tape. And each stands impaled by a steel dildo on the end of a pole fasted securely to the floor. It makes an impressive sight, half a dozen or a dozen women all neatly lined up for inspection and each completely helpless to move or resist.

Most wear nothing but a pair of stiletto heels. The heels are super sexy, shaping the calves and causing a pelvic tilt that makes her breasts jut forward. However, they have a utilitarian purpose as well. It is theoretically possible to get off a dildo pole by standing on tiptoes and rocking sideways. But if you are already forced forward on your toes by stiletto heels when the pole is inserted and locked to the proper height, there's no more play in your ankles. In fact, the pole is so secure that the rest of the bondage gear is mostly for show -- there really isn't much need for wrist and ankle restraints. But who wants to show off a line of BDSM slaves without lots of restraints?

I try to provide a variety of shapes and sizes, hair colour, amount of pubic hair (moderately hairy to fully shaved), and skin colours. Most of my slaves are somewhere in heir twenties, but for those with more of a MILF taste, I keep a few more mature slaves around as long as they can stay reasonably attractive. A few are always fully clothed, for the enjoyment of clients who get a thrill from starting a session by ripping or cutting them off. Of course, the clothed ones always wear a dress or skirt, never pants, so the dildo pole can disappear teasingly up inside. I used to charge extra for this service to cover the costs of destroyed clothing, but now I have a helper who buys lots of cheap women's clothing at thrift stores, so I don't bother.

Once the client has walked up and down the line a few times and made a choice, I give him the hex key that unlocks the telescoping mechanism on the pole. He can slide it out himself, and I direct him to one of the twelve private rooms at the back. Sometimes he unbuckles the spreader so the slave can walk to the room; other clients like to leave it in place and make the slave waddle awkwardly to her destination.

The private rooms are soundproof, of course. They are sparsely furnished, with a double bed with lots of attachment points all the way around and a waterproof mattress cover. There's also an armchair with attachment points for those who fancy a chair tie, or just want to have a place to sit and admire their handiwork once they have the slave trussed up to their satisfaction. Rather than carpet, the floor is covered with a soft rubber that washes easily when covered with cum, saliva, pussy juice, and God knows what else might end up there. A small nightstand holds a large bottle of lube, which I absolutely insist clients use with any activity that involves penetration. All I need is to have a slave out of service for weeks or months with an anal or vaginal tear -- unless I decide to rent her at a cut rate to a client who doesn't mind only two available holes instead of three.

The walls are covered with shelves and hooks displaying almost any kind of BDSM gear that an enthusiast can imagine. There are cuffs and restraints, more spreaders in various lengths, posture bars and collars, both leather and metal. There is a wide assortment of gags, hoods and muzzles, dildos and buttplugs in all different sizes, belts with either one or two dildos built into them, nipple and labia clamps. There are also paddles and floggers. But no whips or canes. If used too enthusiastically, those can leave welts and bruises that take days to heal. Even though clients know perfectly well that their slaves have been used many times before, they still prefer them not to bear the visible marks of previous workouts. There are also no metal handcuffs, for the same reason -- they can leave welts and bruises that take a while to heal. The only cuffs are padded leather or neoprene.

For those of a more DIY taste, there are rolls of tape in various sizes and pre-cut lengths of rope in different colours and lengths. For those into suspension, there is a pulley system in the ceiling that the client can hook various kinds of restraints to. There are also moveable cameras, lots of them. The clients know they're there, and they are partly intended to make sure that they follow the no-lasting-marks rule. Clients leave a healthy deposit, which they only get back if they return the slave with no marks that won't go away by the next day. There's also Jake, a burly ex-bouncer who sits in the hallway with a baseball bat, whom I can alert at the touch of a button if I see a client getting out of hand.

The cameras have other uses too. As someone who combines a love of BDSM with a strain of voyeurism, I get a thrill out watching the creative ways clients restrain and use a slave. I don't usually see much I haven't seen before, of course -- there are only so many ways that you can sexually abuse a woman. But some of the bondage positions are quite interesting, and I usually end up jerking off in the monitor room two or three times a day. Finally, I take a few of the really good clips, edit them to make sure that the client's face is never revealed, and post them to my site on the dark web as part of my advertising.

Client One

On the day I'm going to tell you about, business was a bit slow, although as you'll see it turned out to be pretty interesting in a few different ways. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and I had only three clients lined up. I'd go broke if this was the normal pattern, but I knew I would have more by evening, and lots more as the weekend approached. I had poles for up to twelve, but only staked out seven women, figuring that that would provide plenty of variety while allowing the others to rest up until evening.

The first client was a distinguished-looking man in a business suit. He looked to be in his late forties, still trim-looking with none of the flab that creeps up on some men at that age. I had seen him a few times before, and he knew exactly what to expect. He walked up and down the line, giving some slaves a squeeze to check out the firmness of their breasts or ass, and inspecting pussies where the dildo pole disappeared up them. He made up his mind fairly quickly, selecting Slave Seventeen, a tall light-skinned black woman with straightened dark hair. (I never use their real names -- the numbers help keep me focussed on their status as property rather then human beings.) The white microform tape gag made a striking contrast to her coffee-coloured skin, and she was a popular choice with a lot of my clients. Today she was one of the ones who was fully clothed, so I guessed that Client One liked surprizes.

I gave him the hex key, and he undid the pole and slid it out of her snatch, with an obvious look of relief on her part -- she had been standing there for at least half an hour, and I'm sure she was glad to get that thing out of her and be able to move around a little. He left the cuffs, spreader and gag in place and made her waddle down the hall to Room Five.

I made myself comfortable in the monitor room and watched to see what he would do. He looked over the collection of gags, but decided to leave the microfoam in place for now. He unclipped the cuffs from each other, brought her arms around in from of her, and then fastened them together again. He hooked the pulley to the cuffs and pulled until her arms were over her head. He didn't try to lift he right off the ground, but she was stretched out, her legs still spread, helpless and completely accessible from all the way around.

One of the tools provided is a set of high-grade surgical scissors. He picked them up and walked slowly around Seventeen as if deciding where to start. He decided to start with her white cotton sleeveless top, working the scissors slowly up from the bottom to make a long cut that ended at the neckline. The top fell partly open to reveal a lacey bra that barely held her full breasts. He snipped the top above her arms so he could pull it right off, and tossed it on the floor.

He felt her breasts with admiration through the bra. Then he snipped both straps. He could have reached around and unhooked it, but the bra was destroyed anyway, and I guess he got more satisfaction out of sliding the cold steel up between her breasts and cutting it so that it fell away from the front. When they tumbled out of the bra, her beasts revealed themselves as full and lush, pendulous without being droopy, crowned by striking dark areolas that were, for my taste, more sexy than the nearly-invisible pink areolas of white women.

He walked around behind her and enjoyed two handfuls of breast for a couple of minutes. Then he gave each nipple a really hard pinch. That surprised her and brought on a muffled yelp of pain from behind the tape gag. He kept twisting and pinching them, making her squeal and fight, thrashing around in her restraints as if she could actually do anything about it. Then he finished tormenting her nipples and turned his attention to the rest of her body.

Her legs were spread too far apart for him to pull her tight skirt right down and off, so her made one long cut and pulled it apart. The crotch of her panties was still bunched to one side where the dildo pole had pushed past it, revealing a shaved pussy with lips as full and inviting as her breasts. He gave himself a squirt of lube and slowly worked a finger, then two, up her cunt, thrusting them firmly in and out until he was rhythmically finger-fucking her with the whole length of his fingers buried in her at the end of each stroke. Her breasts swayed invitingly with each thrust, and you could tell by the look on his face that he was really enjoying this invasion of her body. Then her decided that it was time to complete his undressing process. He pulled the crotch of her panties away from her skin, snipped them open, and then snipped each leghole so he could slide them right out from between her legs.

Aside from the stilettos, she was now totally naked and vulnerable. He finger-fucked her a bit more, still reaching around from behind so each thrust pressed her body back into his. He dropped the scissors so he could go back to playing with her nipples with the other hand. Then he stopped, walked around in front, and stood back to admire the full length of her magnificent, statuesque body. He was obviously thinking that he had made the right choice in taking a chance on a fully clothed slave.

Then he went on to the next stage of his BDSM scene. He let her arms down, unhooked the pulley from her cuffs, and unsnapped them from each other again. He ordered her to get down on her knees, then pulled her wrists down to the spreader between her legs and snapped her cuffs onto two d-rings part-way along the bar so she was held in a folded-up position with her face on the floor and her pussy and ass in the air.

I agreed with his taste there, too. It beats me why so many guys in porn videos seem to like tying a woman's ankles together, and sometimes her knees and even thighs, making her most interesting parts hard to see and harder to reach. A spreader keeps everything on display, and attaching the wrists to it makes for a totally helpless, exposed and vulnerable position that says "fuck me" like no other.

He cruised the toy shelves for inspiration. Aside from his brief spell of nipple-twisting, he didn't seem to be a pain man -- he didn't even glance at the floggers and paddles. But he was very interested in the butt plugs, and after inspecting the selection, chose two large plugs made of hard clear blue polystyrene. He started back over to his waiting slave, then stopped and had another look at the shelves. He inspected the collection of gags, evidently having decided to change up the effective but boring tape gag. He settled on a gag with a leather mouth stuffer built into a leather strap that was wide enough to need a little notch at the top to keep from covering the nose. Another good choice -- the stuffer has some of the same effect as a ball gag, and the over-the-mouth part stifles most of the sound that normally escapes around a plain ball. Nothing can keep a person completely silenced, of course, but the OTM stuffer gag reduces protest to only what the slave can get out through her nose.

Client One crouched down and peeled off the tape. She obediently opened her mouth for the stuffer and he shoved it in and buckled it tightly behind her head.

At this point he decided that it was time for him to get naked too. He stripped off his clothes and hung them on a hook, then picked up the lube and the plug. He lubed up her asshole generously, as his contract required, and used his finger to work some deep inside. Then he lubed the plug itself and started to work it in. It was big enough that it took a while to get in, and I could tell by the expression on her face that it wasn't exactly comfortable going all the way up. But he finally got it past its widest point, and her sphincter slurped the rest in right up to the flared base.

Then he did something that I have seen before, but not often. He lubed up the other plug and slowly, twisting it gently and pressing, worked it into his own asshole. Just like hers, once it got past its bulge, it got sucked in and came to rest firmly all the way into his asshole, with only the flared base visible.

I know by experience that having something up your own ass can really enhance the experience of a good fucking. It keeps pressure on the prostate, and the stretched-out feeling is a real turn-on. But I don't often see guys think of doing this when they're getting ready to fuck a slave.

Now that they were both suitably equipped, he went to work. He kneeled behind her and pushed two fingers past her pussy lips into her cunt. He worked slowly, not hurrying but savouring the sensation of having his fingers engulfed by a wet, warm piece of womanhood. He reached up with his thumb and massaged her clit in gentle circles, eliciting some contented "mmphs" from behind the gag. Then he pulled his fingers out and held them to his nose, savouring the musky woman scent of pussy juices.

Finally, he pressed a well lubed and very hard cock between her pussy lips and began thrusting. I could see the buttplug working in his ass as his sphincter clenched on it with each inward thrust. He gradually picked up rhythm, and her "mmphs" increased in tempo to match. It didn't take more than a few minutes until he gave one final hard thrust and held his cock tightly up her cunt as far as it would go, while he grunted and shuddered. I knew by his face that there was a huge load of cum -- perhaps fed by pent-up demand -- filling her hot hole.

He slid his cock out and leaned back, panting. He crouched behind her, watching as his cum began to leak out of her pussy and trickle down her inner thighs in glistening sticky rivulets.