Bought or Rescued? Pt. 02

Author's note: I wrote this after reading stories about the fantasy world of legal slavery. I borrowed many elements from those stories but avoided any reuse of people, places, or company names.

Trigger warning: this story is non-consensual and contains scenes of sexual violation. In line with Literotica policy, the victim who's violated gets some enjoyment from it. If this will upset you, please do not read it and look elsewhere for something erotic.

Everyone is over 18. While the story is set in a fantasy world, slavery and sex trafficking happen today in this world and are utterly evil. Please consider supporting an anti-sex-trafficking organisation.

Dr Nicola Sheldon and the 34^th Amendment appear with the permission of Carl Bradford.

Rachel:

Heather had me chained spread-eagled on the master bed, gagged and helpless while she ate me out.

I groaned as her tongue kissed and teased up the most sensitive skin of my inner thighs; her tongue kissed and lapped the crease between my thighs and up over my outer labia. I was just starting to feel frustrated, wanting more and her mouth moved to suck in my right labium. Her tongue quivered up and down as she kept gently sucking. She pursed her lips rhythmically over my right labium and then my left.

Just as I was about to moan at her for more, her mouth moved to my inner labia, repeating the gentle sucking and flicking of my most sensitive parts. I knew this slow buildup would lead to a mind-blowing orgasm, but I wanted it sooner.

Her tongue dove into my birth canal, exploring every part of my vagina's entrance. I was about to moan "please" when I felt her flick her tongue up my slit and swirl around my clit's hood. I was pretty sure it must be fully out of its hood by now, but she refused to hurry, tantalising and tormenting me relentlessly.

All I could do was lie there as the waves of pleasure rolled over me. I had no idea how Heather was doing it unless she was a mind-reader. Every time I thought I needed her tongue to lick harder or softer, to lick my clit or my slit, or to have her fingers inside me or have them sliding down my labia, she instantly did it. This was perfect fucking sex. This was the most talented cunt licking I could imagine as she knew my every thought and desire.

I felt her mouth lift off me as she moved up to remove my gag and kiss me. I whimpered in frustration.

"Shhh, my love, we are both taking caring of your needs today."

Another mouth started dining at my Y, but I had no idea who it was. I tried to ask, but she placed her finger on my lips. That mouth frustratingly lifted off only to be replaced by a perfectly sized cock sliding in me.

"Oh, yes, please, please."

My mystery lover's cock was the perfect width to make me feel really full without painful stretching. It was the perfect length, so I could feel it sinking deep into me, but it barely kissed my cervix when it was balls-deep.

As soon as my mystery lover was balls-deep the first time, I came and came hard. Heather had made me so worked up my shivering body exploded, spasming, and my eyes whited out. Heather was lying on my right, kissing me and groping my right breast; then, I felt my mystery lover clamp his lips on my left breast.

"Please," I whimpered, "please fuck me harder and faster. I need to feel you nailing me hard into the bed so I'll be sore tomorrow to keep the memory alive."

Heather started kissing me more forcefully and groped my boob harder as his cock sped up. I came again, even harder this time. I'd lost count of how many times I'd come so far without getting over-sensitised.

My mouth was being kissed, my breasts were sucked and kissed simultaneously, and my pussy was full of gorgeous cock. This was sex heaven.

Heather started to lift my blindfold: I glimpsed my father's friend, Bruce, grinning from between my legs. I was confused; he wasn't on the plane. How did he get here?

"Wake up, sleepyhead. It sounded like you were having an amazing dream. I'm pretty sure you were in the middle of orgasming in your sleep. We are transferring planes in 10 minutes. Get up, wear the clothes your mother sent, and meet me in the cabin."

From the big cheese-eating grin on Heather's face, I was pretty sure she'd guessed that she was the star of my dream. Dammit, I didn't want to leave dream heaven. I wondered what she'd think if she knew I was the bisexual star of a threesome with a straight man and a lesbian, the two of them perfectly complementing the two halves of my bisexuality.

I reached down and felt I was sopping wet from the wonderfully filthy dream but didn't have time to scratch that itch. I was upset the dream wasn't real and wondered if it was triggered by Heather's warning about being submissive while I processed my trauma.

Why was Bruce in my dream? I regularly had wet dreams about him, but I'd never dreamt of a threesome. Was my subconscious trying to tell me something?

I hurriedly dressed but had no possessions to worry about. Right on schedule, a much larger plane flew higher and parallel to us to get the fuselages as close as possible. A docking gantry clamped on the side of our plane. Heather opened the jet's door and led me into the gantry. The door shut behind us, and the gantry quickly pulled back into the other jet carrying us to it.

"Welcome; I'm Mia," said the perky blond who'd opened the door for us. I looked quizzically at Heather.

"Yes, Mia is another rescued slave. She has a fascinating story if you ever have time to hear it. She came to us via the underground railroad rather than an auction."

Mia led me to a table where a simple meal was already set and a selection of wines available to drink. I was still too nervous to eat much, but it was calming to down a couple of glasses of wine while nibbling on cheese and crackers.

"Heather, you said you would explain my legal status after switching planes. That tells me my rescue has not led to my legal freedom. It's making me very nervous. So, what exactly is my status now?"

Heather:

"I'm sorry, Rachel. This is the part of the rescue I dread with every girl. Europe's trade treaty with the US bans rescues of involuntary slaves where slaves are purchased by friends and allowed to live as free people. Since the point of involuntary slavery is to punish someone, any such slaves can be repossessed by the FBI and extradited. I'm sure your new owner will grant you every freedom that's legally possible. However, he must enforce two aspects of US slavery by law: always wearing a collar to indicate your legal status as a slave to everyone and being kept slave-naked while inside your owner's home."

Rachel:

I looked at her in dumb incomprehension. Europe had signed a treaty that would force me to remain legally a slave even in my own country where I should be a free citizen. I paused in horror as I feared I hadn't been rescued, just transferred to a new, hopefully nicer, owner.

"Who," I stuttered, "who bought me? How am I better off after being rescued?"

Heather:

I'd seen that look on the face of every girl we'd rescued. I got up and pulled her into a tight embrace. My body warmed as memories of being naked with her flooded unbidden and unwanted in my imagination. The memory of her face and the sound of her cries as she climaxed caused my nipples to instantly harden. I'd need to be very careful around her. If I wasn't already in a relationship, I knew I'd date her in an instant. Subconsciously, I was already thinking of a fun threesome with my girlfriend.

"Sweetie, stop panicking. Other than those two things, no one can force you to do anything. You can go out clothed, get a job, earn money, date, and hang out with your friends or relatives. You are expected to return home to your owner each evening whenever possible. You are hugely better off than American slaves, but you are not completely free."

I could see the burning question on her face and wasn't sure what to tell her.

"Previous rescues had their ownership immediately transferred from Prince Fatyan to the John Newton Society. You are unique, and I don't know why. Your ownership was transferred to Bruce, the man who owns the company that controls this technology and a very close friend of your parents."

Rachel:

My heart leapt as I hesitated to ask the next question, "Do you mean Bruce Stewart?"

Heather nodded, "You know him?"

I couldn't stop my sudden gasp; I bit my lip hard to stop giving more away. I'd had a crush on Bruce since my High School graduation party. Thirty minutes earlier, I'd been dreaming of a threesome with Heather and Bruce where Bruce was fucking my socks off as I came hard.

Living naked in his house would be a full-time, wet dream if he wanted me. I giggled at the thought of him having a permanent erection because of my nudity. It would be a soul-destroying nightmare if he didn't want me as a lover.

I hoped Bruce had no idea how many frigging sessions had been spent imagining his mouth invading my mouth, his hands caressing my breasts, and his cock buried deep in my pussy. I needed to change the subject rapidly.

"Yes, through my parents. We still have more than an hour, and you promised to tell me your story. Why were you collared, and how were you rescued?"

Heather's story:

I grew up in Boston, where our family attended an Exvangelical church that was antislavery and LGBT affirming. Luckily, I grew up believing God created me to be a lesbian, and he doesn't make mistakes: he loves me as a lesbian and wants me to live a full sexual life as a lesbian.

My mother is a Professor at Brandeis. Because my mother was faculty, I could study Psychology at Brandeis and graduate debt-free. Because of our religious views, I chose undergrad courses in slave psychology.

In Slave Psychology 301, we studied "Psychological Impact of Slavery" by Dr Nicola Sheldon. She had endured six months as a sex slave as part of her formal training, so caring owners could get help for traumatised slaves. When the faculty invited her to give a guest lecture, my study partner and I got there 2 hours early with snacks and drinks to sit in the front row.

She inspired me that I had to do something practical to help slaves. I had already applied to Texas A&M Veterinary School. Texas A&M is by far the best school for large-animal care. Under Texas law, involuntary slaves are legally large farm animals and are cared for by specialist slave vets. At vet school, becoming qualified to care for slaves meant adding a minor and three additional rotations: slave primary care, slave surgery, and slave pregnancy.

***

Texas is a mandatory slave grading state for college applications, and I'd heard horror stories of slave-grading in Texas. Brandeis arranged for me to be graded at Yale, where I hoped no one would know me, and the process was safer and slightly less humiliating. I had never seen an erect cock or let a boy touch me sexually, but I had to sign up for naked slave yoga.

Because of my looks, a group of guys quickly signed up for the same class. The teacher made them pose in front of me, so they weren't staring at my butt and my pussy most of the time. I hated the positions facing away from the instructor.

In one slave position, we stood facing the back with our legs apart, bent over, and holding our ankles. Your asshole, vulva, and mouth are lined up in that position: the classic 3-hole pose pioneered by Germaine Greer.

The boys would delay getting into position long enough to gawp right into my fully exposed pussy and rosebud. The instructor brought a bullwhip and cracked it over their heads if they made lewd comments about pounding my holes. The comments quickly stopped.

I was dying of embarrassment every time I yelled slave mantras about craving cock. Do you have any idea how weird it is as a lesbian to shout out: Master, please ram your monster cock into all three of my hot wet holes? I cheated and yelled Mistress, please ram your giant strap-on into all three of my hot wet holes, which made the class and instructor laugh.

My girlfriend, Sara, self-identified as a dyke and typically dressed in men's clothes; she also kept her hair short in a masculine style. She absolutely loved restraining me and fucking me into submission with a wide variety of strap-ons, toys, assorted household objects, and vegetables.

Rachel raised her eyebrows and sweetly blushed when I said vegetables.

I giggled; one night, Sara stuck a courgette and a yellow squash in my lower two holes, then rode my face while squishing sweet cherry tomatoes between her mons and my lips -- she called it ratatouille-ing me. Rachel and Mia both snickered at that.

I wouldn't have described myself as submissive outside the bedroom, but she was completely dominant in it. The thought of her as my owner, leading me on a leash while slave naked, fueled more than one wild night of fantasy-driven sex between us as she claimed her owner's right to fuck me in whatever way she wanted. She rode my face hard on those nights.

As the date of my grading came closer, Sara brought up the issue that I had never handled a cock. During the grading, I would legally be a slave and therefore be expected to give the slave wranglers and other staff oral sex if they asked. There was a chance they could demand sex though that was rare for girls who were only there to be graded unless they were being punished for disobedience.

She told me I would be in serious trouble if I wasn't immediately willing to go down on them. She worried that as a lesbian with strong feminist views, I might lash out verbally at male staff: an act that would be punished very severely. So, to make sure I would get through it safely, she said I needed to safely gain experience of being under slave discipline. I desperately didn't want to do this, but she was adamant it was needed to keep me safe.

She arranged a FINO (Free-in-name-only) contract for me to be a slave for 24 hours with a couple her father knew; they owned two slaves. My period of legal enslavement was to run from 6 pm on Saturday to 6 pm on Sunday.

She warned me that they had agreed several goals in training me: getting me used to being fully nude with no privacy, being photographed naked, making sure I could handle a cock in any of my holes without freaking out, and handle the embarrassment of someone I knew seeing me naked without trying to cover myself up. I dreaded having a cock in my mouth and pussy but knew it meant she feared for me.

We got to their house at 6; I stripped naked in the driveway. Sara padlocked a real slave collar on me and handcuffed my hands behind my back, so I couldn't cover my nakedness. She reminded me that as soon as I entered their house, I was legally a slave and could not speak without permission. Any hesitation in giving complete instant obedience would earn me a whipping.

She attached a steel chain leash and led me to the door. The door was answered by a naked slave girl who bid my Mistress welcome. Sara handed the leash to the slave girl, who led me leashed into the sitting room. I was ordered to 'Present', legs wide apart, chest out. My hands were cuffed, so I couldn't put them behind my neck.

The couple completely ignored me while they welcomed Sara and caught up on news of mutual friends. Their other slave girl brought the three of them a round of drinks, leaving me standing embarrassed like a naked idiot. After half an hour of being studiously ignored, one of the slave girls announced dinner was served.

I was led to the dining room and told to kneel next to Sara's chair. They continued to ignore me throughout the meal as my hunger and sense of humiliation grew. I was going to graduate Summa Cum Laude from Brandeis and go to a prestigious grad school program, but as a slave, I was suddenly nothing. The humiliation was unbearable and made me frustratingly wet and desperate for affirmation and physical affection.

After dinner was cleared, we all returned to the sitting room where my handcuffs were removed, and I was again ordered to 'Present'. The couple did not introduce themselves other than that I was to call them Master and Mistress. The husband got up and started groping my body. He inspected inside my mouth, kneaded my breasts roughly and pulled my nipples. He stood behind me and fondled my butt before returning to my front and stroking my slit before roughly pushing two fingers into me. I winced at the indignity.

"Sara, your little slut is hot-to-trot; she's wet and ready to be fucked."

"What do you think of her?"

"Hmm, I've fucked hotter sluts; I'd say she'll be barely adequate for sexual slavery unless she gets professional training as a courtesan."

My temper flared, and I was about to give him a piece of my mind when I caught Sara's warning glare. Damn, this was exactly the lesson I had to learn. I bit my lip hard and said, "Thank you, Master." Getting those words out was hard. I realised they were all watching my face intently to see if I'd rebel. The husband smirked as he watched me struggle to remain silent.

"Slut, while you are a slave in our house, you will answer to Slut-7298 (the last four digits of my cellphone) to distinguish you from our other two sluts. You will not discuss or mention your status as a FINO slave with anyone in this house including visitors and our two slave girls. As far as they know, you were involuntarily enslaved, and we rented you from Sara for the weekend."

He grabbed the back of my neck and started forcibly kissing me. It took all my strength to let him in and not protest angrily. I knew he could sense my reluctance, so he kept at it until I had fully acquiesced.

Kissing is such an intimate experience that being kissed like that by a man-made me feel sexually violated. But, of course, as a slave, it wasn't a violation. As my owner, he was legally entitled to any form of sexual service from me. This was going to be the hardest 24 hours of my life.

He called for Slut-1817 to come in and kneel before him.

"Slut-7298, Mistress Sara wants you trained in how to fellate men. Kneel at my side while Slut-1817 teaches you how to give a man pleasure."

Slut-1817 knelt and said, "Master, please would you grant me the privilege of worshipping your cock."

He nodded. She unzipped him and freed his already engorged cock. It was smaller than Sara's strap-ons, but I still gasped in fear. He smirked again. She explained about teasing, licking, and avoiding contact with your teeth while maintaining eye contact. She demonstrated sucking his hairy balls while stroking his length with her hand. Finally, she started bobbing up and down on his cock. I could see her cheeks hollow as she sucked. I heard when she hummed on his cock to give him more sensation.

He ordered her to stop and beckoned me to kneel in front of him. I reached forward in trepidation, but he growled. I briefly panicked, then remembered, "Master, please would you give me permission to go down on you."

I tried to do everything Slut-1817 had shown me. They could all see me struggling with a sense of complete disgust that I, a lesbian, had a warm, flesh and blood cock inside an intimate part of my body. In principle, it was no different to sucking one of Sara's strap-ons, but the warm fleshy feel screamed its wrongness in my mind.

I'd never understood how valuable it is as a free citizen to control what goes in my mouth. In some ways, it is more intimate than a pussy. In the old days, before sex slaves were widely available, hookers would go down on a man and let him fuck their pussy, but they wouldn't kiss him. It was too intimate to bear. I hoped none of them would try and kiss me.

My lesbian lovers had been fully shaved, but I gagged repeatedly on his coarse pubic hair as I tried to suck his balls, and it took all my strength not to throw up.