A Slave-taking Trip to Planet Earth

"Sam, spread your legs apart when you kneel in front of me. I want to see you on display for me."

"Yes Mistress Julia!" said Sam, spreading his legs and jutting out his cock and balls.

"I'll fuck you in a minute, Sam. First, kiss my feet like a good slave."

Sam leant in and kissed each of her feet once. Julia motioned to him to keep going. He began to kiss each foot slowly, sensuously, switching between each every so often. From her position above him, Julia was almost certain that this was the one for her. He'd make an excellent slave. She just had to see if Tom would give in to her first. If not, perhaps her mother could break him. He would fetch a high price if they sold him on.

"Stop, slave."

"Yes, Mistress Julia."

"Good boy. Now come up on the bed and lie down on your back. There, that's right. No, the handcuffs stay on."

Julia rolled a condom onto Sam's cock and then lowered herself onto him. The gorgeous boy breathed in slowly, then out. Julia began to gently rock herself back and forward on him. She didn't want him to come too soon. Sam gasped with pleasure as Julia began to bounce up and down. She drove herself down hard so that he would feel the cuffs dig into his wrists. Slaves should, she felt, have a little pain with their pleasure.

Julia rotated her hips a little with each thrust. Her spine tingled and waves rushed across her skin. She rarely enjoyed herself this much. Sam gave himself over to her completely, lost in the act of being fucked by a goddess. Julia leaned forward and kissed the boy, sending her tongue in deep, forcing herself on him.

As she leant forward, Julia brought all her motions together. She screwed the slave beneath her with all her energy, pressing her hand over his mouth as his grunts and gasps got too loud. Sam drove his cock up in time with Julia's thrusts down, again and again. They fucked for a few more minutes, then he came hard as she continued to ride him. The climax was like a firework going off in his brain; he was almost paralysed beneath her.

Julia collapsed onto his body and started to run her fingers over his hair. She whispered to him, soothing sounds, ran her fingers over his lips and pushed them into his mouth. Sam sucked on her fingers, languorously, passionately.

"I need to come again, Sam. No need to move. Your mistress will sit on your face. Lick my clit, slave."

"Yes, Mistress Julia," whispered Sam.

Julia slid herself forward, turned around and planted her cunt onto Sam's face. She smothered him in her folds, driving her clit down to his mouth. His face was coated with her, his nostrils full of her scent. Sam breathed deeply. Julia was perfect. He began to lick hungrily at her.

Julia ground herself against Sam's face. She was light-headed now, floating on the dominance. Sam's diligent tongue was at the centre of her world as he drove her quickly towards another orgasm. She let his face take her weight, smothering him with abandon. Sam gasped for breaths as Julia rotated her hips, his tongue barely ceasing its service as he sucked in air.

The orgasm hit Julia. It was everything she could do not to scream the place down. Sam carried on licking and sucking as Julia's wetness coated his face.

"Clean me up, slave. Worship me."

Sam complied, licking up her juices and leaving her cunt clean and fresh. He was a rare find, a slave in a million. Could anyone beat that? Could his brother? She dismounted and laid next to Sam as he caught his breath, tracing a sharp nail up and down his chest. She wanted to dig her nails in, draw blood, claim his flesh. She held back. Plenty of time for that in the future if he turned out to be the one.

They lay there together for a while. Julia never thought to let him out of the handcuffs and Sam didn't like to ask. After some time, reluctantly, Julia let Sam out of the bondage and watched him get dressed. She was still offended by the sight of a free, clothed male. It was unnatural, a perversion of the correct ordering of the universe. Not for much longer, though.

She, her mother and her sister would enslave this boy one way or another. His life was in her hands. He left by the window he came in through, and Julia fell asleep wondering what slave-name they would give him. She thought about his cock and balls - perhaps she could convince him to get rid of the hair. It really did look ridiculously primitive on a male.

Chapter 3

Back at the house in the country, Julia's mother Lisa was sitting in her home office, working at her computer. She had decided to tempt the gardener she had met into her web. From her trawl through his files, she had learned exactly what kind of mistress he was after. His tastes suited her. He wanted a strict, ruthless mistress to tell him what to do, how to behave. He wanted to be fucked and punished. He would be.

Lisa began to construct a profile on one of the sites he used. She included a picture of herself from the neck down, wearing nothing but long leather boots and a strapon, and holding one of her many whips. She had the body of a fit, lean forty-year old, with mid-sized breasts and long dark hair. Her pose radiated power. She was boss, and anyone looking would know it.

Next, she typed in a description. She leaned in heavily on the strictness. She was looking for a naughty, wayward boy. She wanted to tie that boy down and spank him until he cried. Then she would fuck him, hard, with her strapon. If he was a very good boy, he might get to cum. Good behaviour, after all, could be rewarded, if the right attitude was shown.

And then, she waited. Several messages came in - she ignored them. She knew that the gardener would log on soon - she could see him in the cameras she had hidden in his house. He was already naked, with the curtains drawn, ready for another lonely night in front of the computer. She would let him come to her.

Her slave crawled into the room, keeping his head respectfully down. Clarice had finished riding him and he had come to see if his original owner had any need of him. Lisa snapped her fingers and pointed to her shoulders. The slaveboy sprang to his feet, sending his caged cock bobbing up and down. He scurried to her and began to massage her with firm, warm hands.

Lisa switched to the surveillance feed from her fitness instructor's house. He too was sat in front of his computer. He was watching some kind of porn where women dominated women. Lisa had no qualms about that, but she was a little disappointed that he wasn't exclusively into men being dominated by women. On the other hand, he had a magnificent body.

The slave's hands were steadily releasing the tension from her. He rubbed and kneaded, getting into all the right spots. Lisa was a little upset that his lifespan was coming to an end. Their science could extend a lifespan to three times its original length, but the process was expensive - she couldn't afford it for a slave. Outwardly, the slave boy was still young. Internally, some of his organs were getting close to failure. He remained blissfully unaware, living only to serve.

Lisa had some attachment to the boy. She had bought him from a slave market nearly sixty years ago, at a bargain price reflecting his untrained, skinny form. She had built him up from nothing. Somewhere in his papers was the name he had originally possessed, but she had simply called him 'slave', 'boy' or 'male', just as she would her next possession. To her, a slave had no identity, only duties and drives. Males were just animals, after all.

She had broken this male's will. She had whipped, flogged and spanked him until she could mould him into whatever she wanted. He had spent countless hours worshipping her pussy, many more still being fucked by her strapon. Once a month, she had allowed him to cum if he had met her exacting standards of behaviour. If not, she had strung him to a cross and tortured him until he passed out. His mind was hers, and he had thanked her for every second of that torture. He wished only to please her.

She brought her attention back to the computer. The gardener - Henry - had found her profile. She used her hidden cameras to zoom in on him. He was sitting in rapt attention, staring at her photo and re-reading her description. She was everything he was looking for. His hand shook as he clicked the button to compose a message. He could barely think what to write. Words were not his strong suit.

He sat there for an hour, then two hours, composing and recomposing his message. Lisa had her slaveboy move around so that she could tweak his nipples. Growing bored with that, she had him lick her to an orgasm while she watched Henry type. The name would have to go. Males were property. Objects. She decided to think of him simply as 'the gardener'.

The gardener composed his message. In the end, he kept it simple: 'I would behave impeccably for you, mistress. I would gladly accept your punishments. I need to be trained. I humbly beg to serve you.'

Lisa paused a while, and decided to let the gardener wait. Desperate men were easier to manipulate. She shut down the computer and Clarice joined her. They put strapons on and took their slaveboy out into the cool night air of the garden, careful to stick to the parts they knew their neighbours could not see.

They took the slave to a secluded corner and had him kneel on all fours, then spitroasted him together. Clarice asked her mother to gently flog her breasts while they fucked the slave, and each drove their strapons into him until they came. They went back inside, drank wine and then got ready to sleep. Lisa took the slaveboy to her bed and Clarice slept alone.

The next day, after the slaveboy gave her her morning orgasm, Lisa went to work at the bank. She decided to decline the gardener's loan. She wanted to see how far she could push him. She knew that she would be plunging him into despair, and wanted to be the one who would emerge as his eventual saviour. She had a subordinate break the news, so that she could deny responsibility, then returned home to send a message to her prospect.

'I propose a trial. Meet me at the location on this map, on Saturday at 2pm. Wear a red sweater. I will wear a white blouse and the black leather boots from my photo. I will save you. You will serve me. Mistress L.'

Lisa had developed a new plan for how she and her daughters would kidnap their males. They would have as many as possible come to them. To the gardener, Lisa would offer a large contract - the restoration and maintenance of the grounds around her home. She would pass off the house as a family inheritance that was ruinously expensive to keep up. That would bring him into her reach.

To the fitness instructor, she would offer a well-paid personal training session at her home, with hints of more if he performed well. She felt certain that Julia could somehow entice both twins to their home, perhaps on promise of a party or a weekend in the countryside. And Clarice was certain to be able to seduce the groom at her stables. That left only the lecturer Julia had spotted - perhaps they would kidnap that one after all.

The time of the meeting drew near. Clarice was out riding again and would not return until the evening. Lisa locked the slaveboy into a cage in the basement dungeon and told him to remain silent. She drove into town and left the car near the meeting place - a small park with views over the city. Right on time, the gardener came into view. As ordered, he was wearing a red sweater - it fit his muscular body well. He hesitantly approached the bench where Lisa sat. Lisa smiled at him and patted the seat beside her.

"Come here and join me. I don't bite."

"OK. Hi. I recognise you from somewhere, don't I?"

"I work at the bank. We've met there. It's a small world, isn't it? Oh, you look angry. What's wrong?"

"D... don't you know? They turned down my loan. I don't know what to do. Why did you turn down my loan?"

"I didn't. I recommended giving it to you. Honestly, my dear dear boy. I swear it. Oh, I'm so sorry. I'll look into it, I promise. I'm sorry, remind me what it is you do again."

"I'm a gardener. I do big gardens, landscapes. I need powered equipment to do it, and a vehicle that's not falling apart."

"A gardener and a submissive?" The gardener was startled; he had almost forgotten why he was there.

"Well, yes. That's right. That's why I'm here. Why are you here?"

"Because I want someone to punish, and someone to fuck. I think you need both. And you know what, I have a house outside town. It's been in my family a long time but there's almost no money left. It's got a big garden. Too big for me. But maybe you could set it right?"

"I told you. No equipment."

"I can lend you the money. My own money, not the bank's. Take a look at it with me? I can drive us there."

"I barely know you. Why would you let me in your house? In your car?"

"I wouldn't normally rush so. But we've met, and I do know you. We do a quick background check when you apply for a loan. I know enough, anyway, and life is short. Come with me. Take a risk. Look at me - I'm no threat to you. What do you have to lose?"

The gardener sat and thought for a while. He looked out across the city and weighed his options - he did really want this. A smile spread across his face.

"Nothing, I suppose. OK, I'll come and look at your garden. Is that ... all you want to do?"

"No, my dear. That's not all I want to do."

Lisa drove them all the way there, taking the corners at breakneck speed. Halfway through the journey, she flicked on a signal jammer hidden in the car. The gardener's mobile phone was knocked out of service - anyone investigating the signal in future would find it veering off in another direction entirely. Clarice had set it up - she was quite in control of this planet's primitive electronics.

"I've lost my signal. Are we that far into the countryside?"

"Afraid so. It's the hills, you know. They block it. Turn it off, anyway. I want your undivided attention."

She was pleased to see that he turned off the phone without protest. They drove for several more miles until they were nearly at the house.

"There are some groundrules that we need to go over. OK?"

"OK," said the gardener.

"We'll tour the garden first and you can give me a quote. I'm going to trust you. I'm going to accept the first quote you give me. I expect it to be fair - good for you and good for me. We'll talk about the loan before you leave. Once we've done that, we'll go inside and get acquainted.

"Once you're through the front door, I want you to address me as 'Goddess'. Not 'Goddess Lisa' or 'Mistress' or anything else. Just 'Goddess'. Give it capital letters in your mind. We'll start you off nice and gently. But remember. I'm a strict Goddess. Obey me and we'll have fun. Understand?"

"Yes. Um, Goddess."

"No, silly boy. Once we're in the house, you call me Goddess. In public, just call me 'miss'."

"Yes, miss."

"That's good. Here we are," she used the remote control to open the security gate, "this is my garden. As you can see, it's getting out of hand."

The garden was indeed in quite a state. The gardener could see it would take weeks of work to put right - enough to put him back in the black, if only just. A big job like this would be sure to attract more work, though. He began to feel grateful to Lisa, to relish the job ahead.

Lisa parked the car and led the gardener around the grounds, holding his hand as they went. She set the direction and pace, and he followed. He asked for a pen and paper, and began to make a list of all the tasks that would need doing. His penmanship was slow and basic. Lisa reflected that a slave did not need to write, so this would be no problem. Indeed, petmales and ponyboys couldn't even use their hands, though she felt certain this one was more of a service slave.

The tour took a full hour. The gardener came up with his quote, and it was immediately accepted. By this time it was late in the afternoon, and Lisa led them inside the house. The moment she passed the threshold, Lisa began to strip naked. She stood in front of the awed gardener, and knelt down to put her boots back on.

"Now you," she said.

The gardener hesitated.

"Disobedient boys get punished," said Lisa.

He made his decision. May as well go all in, and he could easily walk away if he had to. "Yes, Goddess," he said, and quickly disrobed, letting his clothes fall in a heap on the floor.

"Good slave. You will follow these rules. When inside my house, you will be naked at all times. You may use a safeword - banana. If you use it, our scene ends and you leave." Lisa was quite certain he wouldn't dare. "When inside my house, call me Goddess. Speak when spoken to. Do not volunteer opinions or suggestions. Follow my orders. Enjoy yourself. Please me. Behave well. Now, kneel."

The gardener sank to his knees.

"When you kneel before me, spread your legs apart a little. Put your hands together behind your back." She moved over to a chest of drawers and removed a collar and leash from it. "Slaves wear collars. This is yours."

She placed the stainless steel collar around his neck - it fit perfectly. Lisa took a padlock and closed it, locking the collar in place. One day, soon, he would wear a collar that would seal itself around his neck forever. Not yet, though. Lisa led the gardener through to the sitting room. She sat on the wide sofa, and had the new slave lay down across her knees.

"As you know, slave, I am a strict mistress. I will now demonstrate how I will correct your behaviour. If you use your safeword, I will stop, but then you will only ever be my gardener, not my slave. Punishments are not optional. Understand?"

"Yes, Goddess!" croaked the gardener, as his erection grew. This was the strictness he craved.

"You are a bad boy!"

The gardener settled into position. Smack! He jumped in shock. Lisa gave no warm up, just instant hard discipline. Smack! He jumped again, and again, as the spanking began. His backside began to burn red, as did his cheeks. The gardener flinched and writhed as the spanking intensified - this was pure pain and humiliation. He needed it. Lisa admired his lean body as she pounded her dominance into his buttocks. He would make an excellent slave.

After a couple of minutes, Lisa intensified the punishment. She hit faster, harder. The gardener would struggle to sit for a week. His backside was deep red now. The pain of each smack took him further into her power. Lisa gave him another ten minutes of full-on discipline, until the gardener had stilled his body and took each blow with a grunt of pleasure and pain. He never once tried to move off her knees.

"Slave. You take your punishment well. Now, kneel on the floor again."

"Yes, Goddess." He moved back to the floor. She could see that he had cried a little.

"What haven't you done, slave?"

"I ... don't know, Goddess."

"Thank me, slave!"

"Thank you, Goddess!"

"What are you thanking me for?"

"Um..." he hesitated, "for punishing me, Goddess?"

"That's right, slave. Don't forget to thank me in future."

"Sorry, Goddess."

"Good boy. Now," said Lisa, spreading her legs, "worship me."

Lisa's pussy had a mass of dark hair - she would never remove a single follicle. She took the slave's leash and guided his face into her crotch, then had him start to slowly lick up and down. He had a fine tongue, and seemed to know what he was doing. Lisa took her time, keeping the slaveboy licking at a slow pace. She longed to enslave this one now. No one would know - she had made sure he couldn't be tracked here. But, no. She would wait, and set the proper example to her daughters.

She brought her attention back to the gardener. He was still licking up and down her cleft, but with more pressure now. Pleasure washed over her each time he reached her clit.