Atonement Session Ch. 01

Slave announcer Kylie, newly returned from freshening up, marched past him, microphone held high in front of her, headed toward Sheriff Donovan. Something was off about her tonight and it worried him. He knew that her initial self-indenture contract was ending soon and sometimes this happened. Starlets foolishly started thinking that they would be free women soon and they started to lose focus and become unpredictable. Smith had seen it many times. He had also seen what the Slavery Channel's usual response was - the girl was quickly transferred over to the Porn Channel for the last few weeks of her indenture. If she endured that and then refused to renew her indenture and then tried to return to her former home to re-start her former life - good luck with that, her porn videos would hit every Porn Channel website all at once. In spite of everything, Mr. Smith actually liked this girl, and it would make him sad to see that happen. But he was a hardened professional and not a single trace of his emotions leaked through his cheery professional façade.

Instead, he went to the camera and, in his usual excited-and-delighted-for-the-cameras face and voice declared, "Now THAT was one of the best spankings ever! I'm sure we can all agree on that. It MIGHT be one of the cutest spankings ever, but I have to say, the annual Christmas Elf shoplifter spankings are pretty darn hard to beat!"

He smiled another genuine smile at this. The Christmas Elf shoplifter spankings really were a favorite of his. The spanking victims were all carefully chosen - lots of teenage girls of course, MILFs in their twenties, maybe sometimes GILFs in their thirties for those with kinky tastes, and for variety, a few especially-photogenic young men and boys. The spanking elves were always extra-petite starlets wearing snug red or green velvet Christmas minidress costumes with candy-cane stockings and pointed hats. The Slavery Channel scoured the suck-bars of Los Angeles every fall in order to find the right girls. They were usually sold immediately afterwards, so Smith never saw the same elves twice. The former suck-bar girls were always told that this event would almost-certainly be their first big break in Hollywood and they were always incredibly enthusiastic and cheerful as they unwittingly advertised for their own sale into a lifetime of bondage. But it was still fun and cute, and Smith enjoyed it.

He continued, "And that concludes the rated PG-13 segment of tonight's events, we're going to go to a commercial break in order to give our viewing audience time to send the kiddos to bed. When we come back, we'll begin the R-rated session. We'll be RIGHT BACK!"

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Stripping and Pegging

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Before the reinstitution of slavery, the nation's moral majority had a different opinion about what was appropriate for kids to watch. Nudity was almost entirely forbidden, but skull-splattering violence was perfectly all right. But, times had changed and the morality police changed with it. Nowadays, nudity was commonplace in everyday life and it was violence that the censors worried about. The show was about to get more violent. The kids needed to go to bed.

"Sluts! Over here," shouted Mr. Smith. It was time for the sluts to be stripped of their PG-13-rated costumes. The slave announcer who was approaching the Sheriff for unexplainable reasons promptly turned about and headed back to the center, microphone still held in front of her. She was still smiling for the cameras, but there seemed to be something missing. Her head wasn't in the game right now. Smith decided to do his best to sideline her for the rest of the evening. Or maybe he should have her just stand next to him and keep her from using her mic.

The two slave nurses ran over, smiling and waving for the studio audience and the cameras. At least they were still focused on the present, he thought.

Once he had all three girls lined up, he turned to the audience and cried out, "Do we have any more sluts in the audience that shouldn't be wearing clothing?" You never know, sometimes there are. Doesn't every set of bleachers contain dozens of sluts who don't deserve to wear clothing? One of the unfortunate side-effects of modern slavery was that sluts were so quickly identified and collared that it made events like this slightly less fun.

In the audience, the Slavery Channel President looked around, not seeing any additional volunteers. There were a quite a few slaves in the audience, but they were already naked. Then he looked over at the former pop star kneeling between his husband's knees with her pony-tailed head bobbing up and down furiously as she tried to get him off. Mortie could last forever when he had a woman sucking his dick. Although he enjoyed the power and dominance of getting a blowjob from a woman, he really wasn't into girls. He just liked putting them in their proper place - on their knees with a dick in their mouth.

The President reached over, grabbed the slut's convenient ponytail and yanked her head off of his husband's cock with an audible "pop!".

"You, slut!" he growled, "get over there with the other sluts!"

She stumbled to her feet on the stilettoes chained to her feet, then staggered toward the studio floor. Mr. Smith, who had been enjoying himself - everyone loves a good stripping - frowned at her approach, then swiftly walked past the unsteady girl toward his boss.

"Sir," he said urgently, "What's your artistic vision here?"

The President subsided into his seat. He was happy now that the nasty creature was no longer near him. He hated having to drag the chained, sighing, and moaning little bitch everywhere. Under California's "taken in hand" statute, he needed to keep the thing on a leash in order to ensure his continued de-facto ownership of her. It was growing tiring.

Slavers have a weakness. They tend to think of themselves as the apex predator in every gathering. This is rarely true. Slavers have a tendency to congregate together, so when there is a slaver in the room, there usually is more than one slaver in the room. Therefore, any given slaver is only ONE OF the predators present at any given time. This studio was filled with VIPs from the state of Texas. So there were in fact MANY alpha predators in the room. His weakness was noted, identified, and filed away for future reference. The current subject of his predation was studied, evaluated... and found desirable. Multiple covetous and predatory eyes turned in that direction.

"Just rip her dress off," he said. "Make sure the cameras get a good shot. I'm done playing nice with this shit-bird father of hers. Rip her dress off on national TV, it's time to ruin her professionally."

"Uh, Sir, won't that affect the value of..."

"Hardly. Let me worry about that while you handle the stripping. "

Smith nodded and turned back to group of sluts on the studio floor. The fluffy-haired teenage youtuber chosen to strip the slave nurses was already there with his personal cameraman, mugging for the camera with the two busty nurses on either side.

Kylie was standing between the nurses and the former popstar in the soiled designer gown. She had her microphone held in front of her like a talisman and had a huge, insincere smile plastered on her face. Smith was becoming more and more of the opinion that this was the last time she would ever hold a microphone. Judging by her fierce grip on it and the slightly-panicked look in her eyes, she was having much the same thoughts.

The former pop star, on the other hand, just looked resigned to her fate. She probably still held out hope that her father would see reason and settle the copyright lawsuit sometime soon. Smith highly doubted that. As he walked past them toward the Sheriff's group, he glanced over at a technician who gave him the two-minute hand signal. He nodded crisply and went up to the Sheriff. "Sheriff Donovan, I need your help if you could please," he said.

Sheriff Donovan nodded. He had five deputies who were experienced in stripping women of their clothes and their dignity. It was a no-brainer. Deputies were quickly assigned to each of the remaining two women to be stripped.

The obnoxious youtuber went first. He stripped both nurses while ensuring that his personal cameraman kept his face and the four newly-revealed breasts in most of the shots. Underneath their dresses, the nurses were wearing a lattice-work of white leather straps similar to the torso harnesses of the human ponies. These particular harnesses had nothing to do with pulling carts, though. Their only purpose was to provide whoever was shafting their wearer with something to hold onto. This function would be put to use later at the VIP after party. The nurses smiled continuously for the cameras throughout the process, even when the obnoxious teenager licked and groped them. Neither girl made eye contact with him once. When he was done, they then bounced back to their station, revealing the crystal butt-jewels winking between their lower cheeks. Just another day of work at the Slavery Channel.

It was slave announcer Kylie's turn next. She suddenly realized that she was flanked by two of the female deputies whose power and dominance had impressed her earlier. Both were in full uniform, had their sleeves rolled up to expose their muscular, tattooed forearms, and were wearing their chromium strapons with pride. They were also wearing blue latex gloves and looking at her like she was a morsel to be devoured.

"Oh!" Kylie said, "Umm, is it my turn, then?"

"Sure honey, we'll let you go next," one said as the two deputies restrained her by gripping her upper arms.

"Okay, umm, do you need gloves to take my dress off? I'm pretty sure it was just washed?" She was still holding her microphone in front of her chin with both hands and still trying to maintain a smiling professional demeanor, but her tone of voice began to betray her nervousness and uncertainty. Usually at a show like this, the girls would do a little striptease for the studio audience during the PG-13-to-R ratings break. Slaves learned to fear the unexpected, as it rarely meant good things for them.

"No honey. See, here's the thing," the lead deputy replied. "We get a lot of drug runners through here, and we have developed a drug runner profile description. You fit the profile perfectly and it would be a breach of professional ethics to strip you and then fail to do a full cavity search."

"But, but, I don't have any contraband!" Kylie squeaked.

"That's what they all say, sweetie, that's what they all say."

During this conversation, a third deputy approached the girl from behind and slowly peeled the satin costume down her body. Kylie even managed to continue to interview with the deputies as she wiggled her hips to help out. Underneath the dress, like the slave nurses, she was wearing an arrangement of leather straps. Hers was red, though, to match the rest of her costume.

The deputies were very pleased by this development. "Hey Beth," said the woman on Kylie's right, "Why don't you buy this outfit and I'll let you wear it for me when I fuck you silly tonight?"

The other woman, whose name was apparently Beth, chuckled and replied, "Naw, how 'bout I buy this outfit and you can wear it for ME when I fuck YOU silly tonight? Or better yet, we'll take turns, but you're still going first."

"So, umm..." Kylie began, still trying to do her job under trying circumstances. Maybe she could salvage the situation if she just tried hard enough. "So, umm, do you two know each other?"

"Yeah, this is my wife."

"Oh!" Kylie chirped as inquisitive fingers from the unseen deputy behind her began to investigate the slithery folds of her now-revealed vagina. The bottom-most straps of the leather harness looped through her crotch, neatly framing and enhancing her pouting labia for the viewing pleasure of the audience. The producer quickly put the close-up view of the scene on the big wall-screens. Looking up at the wall-screens, Kylie was simultaneously bombarded with the view of her bare vagina being fingered, the full knowledge that said fingering was being broadcast live across the country - which include Cornhenge, Iowa - and the pleasurable sensation of the deputy's expert vaginal massage. It was almost too much. Almost. But Kylie was a professional. She had come this far, and she would see it through to the end. She gathered her scattered thoughts and focused on the interview.

"You know, we have that type of thing in California, too. And, umm, in Iowa. Lots of women can't find a husband and... Whaa-o-o-ah!"

The groping deputy had decided that the best way to conclude the examination of Kylie's vagina was to detach the (cold, hard, metal, chromium) dildo from her hip harness, lubricate it, and slide it smoothly into Kylie's arousal-slicked opening. The cameramen made sure to capture her O-face as she reacted to the cold metal intruder. It didn't hurt her, as the deputies had no interest in harming pretty girls, quite the opposite. But the deputy had been wearing her chromium-steel phallus in the chilly air-conditioned studio for quite some time now and it... was... COLD! Kylie's reaction was quickly looped onto the studio wall screens.

Behind the scenes, hard-working studio technicians were editing "Kylie Is Surprised" reaction GIFs for sale on the Channel's web site. First, the reaction to Harriette's "weak and ineffective" leather paddles. Now this. Kylie's peculium received a percentage of the royalties from the new GIFs. So far, she had earned seven dollars. It's a start. Fame and fortune take time. Kylie was on her way to the top now. Really.

The deputy behind Kylie suddenly kicked her stilettoed feet out into a much wider stance. Under normal circumstances, a woman wearing high heels couldn't possibly maintain this pose without spraining both ankles. But these were not normal circumstances. Kylie was under the physical control of three very experienced women who performed this maneuver often. They could have removed her high heels first, but where's the fun in that? The two women holding Kylie in place simply positioned their boots in just the right place to brace Kylie's overstressed ankles. Then they tightened their grip on the slave girl's torso-harness, knelt down on one outer knee and... folded her in half.

Suddenly, Kylie's world topsy-turvied, and she was looking at the studio upside down. Her long hair fanned out on the studio floor as she looked up at the upside-down deputy's face behind and/or in front of her. It was all so confusing. But she was determined to carry on. She was going to persevere. Some day she would be a star, she just had to work hard and stay cheerful, and she would get here! Cornhenge, Iowa was only three weeks away, but she couldn't think of that now. She needed to please her Master, who was physically present in the studio tonight. So she needed to carry on, smiling brightly and cheerfully. That was the path to success!

Kylie was now looking down/up at the deputy behind her and gripping the microphone tightly in two hands like a religious talisman... while folded in half and looking up at the world from between her own ankles. "Hi!" she began the interview, "I'm Kylie, what's your name?" Then she pointed the mic in the general direction of the deputy kneeling behind her.

Deputy Ta'Shawna Adams looked down at the contorted girl's face. The poor thing really WAS still trying to do her job under impossible circumstances. It wasn't going to make Ta'Shawna go easy on her, but it was pretty impressive. The deputy smiled at the girl under her power. "Hi," she said, "I'm Deputy Ta'Shawna Adams and today we're going to inspect your rectum in order to ascertain if you're smuggling any contraband. Do you consent to this search?"

Kylie looked up/down at her and replied hopefully, "Do I have a choice?"

Ta'Shawna chuckled deep, silent belly laughs at the question and the hopeful expression on the girl's face. "No, sweetheart, we're gonna search you anyway. It would be a breach of professional ethics if we didn't. You really DO fit our drug smuggler profile, so it needs to be done. Here's what I want you do for me, I'm going to help you relax your sphincter and then take a peek into your rectum. If you're cooperative and helpful, I'll just look inside and not actually ram my entire first into your butthole. Which method do you prefer?"

Kylie considered the proposition thoughtfully and responded "The 'not ramming a fist into my butthole option' please?" This position was really starting to have an effect on her breathing and blood flow and she was feeling a bit dizzy. Fortunately, the kind deputies had her pinned in place and she was entirely unable to move.

Ta'Shawna had no intention of ramming her fist into any of this girl's openings. But it was her experience that she needed to keep girls under control in order to achieve her own goals. This girl wasn't going to be a problem, though, so Ta'Shawna decided to go easy on her. She began lubricating the girl's anal opening with her blue latex-covered fingers while advising her to relax. Given the girl's physical position and willingness to submit, it was unsurprising to her that the girl's sphincter swiftly dilated under her ministrations and she had to quickly grab her butt-jewel before it vanished inside her rectum. She explored inside for a bit then released the girl. Once she was standing again, Ta'Shawna slipped the plug back into her butt, making Kylie meep in surprise.

This wasn't what Kylie thought Hollywood was going to be like. She had dreams of appearing on the red carpet, wearing expensive clothing, and riding in limos. Instead, she was here, naked, and shipped from place to place in a crate like cargo. For a brief moment, her smile wavered, then she smiled brightly for the cameras. Maybe her dreams of stardom really will come true some day! She just had to power through the humiliation and abuse and her star would rise!

Smith beckoned her over. He was no longer holding his microphone in his hands and was wearing blue latex gloves, like the two deputies who were holding the former pop star in the soiled dress. Kylie - and the cameras - hadn't gotten a good look at her before. The fallen pop star was wearing a backless designer gown that had long sleeves and a high slit up the thigh made of shiny gold cloth. It must have been extremely glamorous originally, thought Kylie. Oh, how beautiful she must have looked and felt on the red carpet wearing that! But now it was just a soiled rag that had to make her feel hideous, ugly, and low-class. Better to be naked and have done with it.

Mr. Smith cut two slits near the top of the dress and simply ripped it off the girl and tossed the soiled rag aside. Although she had known it was coming, the shock and humiliation of her sudden and violent exposure almost made her cry out. But she was wearing a special kind of shock collar that would have punished her with a jolt of electricity to the front of her slender throat, temporarily paralyzing her vocal cords. She was a professional singer and she wanted to sing again one day. Too many such jolts could easily cause permanent damage. That, more than anything, was what kept her docile and under the control of the President.

Kylie carefully kept her eyes away from the disgraced singer's face. She couldn't bear it and she didn't want to be distracted from her own job. She needed to perform very well for three more weeks. Then she could leave this place and these people behind forever. Instead, she looked at the other faces in the group and realized that nobody was having any fun right now.

"So, Sheriff," Mr. Smith said in a somewhat hollow version of his usual excited-and-delighted voice, "Do you think we need another cavity search? She looks like a drug smuggler to me!"