Signing Up for a Life of Slavery

That was Jonathan's cue to stop holding himself back. Two or three quick, hard thrusts, and I suddenly felt his warm cum flooding my rectum. I always enjoy our fuck sessions, but that one was a topper! I wouldn't even notice the bedsheet burns on my knees until morning, although I knew my ass would feel abused for quite a while.

Jonathan rolled over onto his back and recovered for a couple of minutes, He went to the bathroom and washed up, and then came back with a warm, wet washcloth to take care of the cum that was leaking down my legs and the pussy juices all over my vulva. Then he reached down and unsnapped my right hand from the spreader cuff. I reached over and unbuckled the other hand and my ankles, gratefully stretching my cramped legs. He handed me the scissors, and I snipped the tape around my head and then unbuckled the ball gag. My jaw was certainly grateful when I pulled it out from behind my teeth, and I lay for a couple of minutes just enjoying the sensation of being able to move all my joints again. The enjoyment was tempered with a bit of regret that the heavy bondage part of our evening was over, but I knew that we would have some more cuddles and maybe some licks and sucks, or maybe another fuck, for quite a while before we went to sleep.

My jaw and ass still aching, I lay next to him, lazily swirling a finger around his left nipple and playing with the light bit of hair that surrounded it. I began to think. "Is this the time to talk to him about what's been on my mind for a while?" I hadn't been able to articulate it well even to myself at first, and even after I thought I had pretty much figured it out, I had never talked about it. I was terrified of ruining a fantastic relationship. What could he really do about it anyway, if I did tell him? If he knew I had desires that he just couldn't satisfy, would it jeopardize what we did have? I had been turning the matter over in my mind for weeks. But that night, I just needed to talk to someone about it.

I rolled over and gave him a long, wet, tongue-y kiss, and screwed up my courage. "Jonathan - there is something that I really need to talk to you about."

"What is it, Angie? Is there something more I could be doing for you that I haven't been?"

Just knowing that he was so willing to please me almost made me lose my courage, but I pressed on. "Jonathan, I absolutely love everything we do together. Every time I think that maybe we're falling into a rut, you always come up with some new and inventive twist that adds a new layer to an already great thing. That sudden ass-ram was the most painful and most thrilling thing you've done to me." I paused for a few beats. "Just don't make too much of a regular habit of it, ok?"

"OK, Angie," he said. "I know when I've pushed almost to the edge of how much I can hurt you without it going over a cliff. Besides, if I did it very often, what kind of suspense would there be?"

I almost cried when I thought of what I could lose, but I pushed forward anyway. "I know how thoughtful you are about finding what I will like. But there's something that I'm pretty sure you can't help me with, however much you want to."

He didn't say anything. He just waited patiently as I gathered my thoughts and sought the right words. "The only problem is, it's all so ... consensual. Even tonight, when you tried something new without asking me first, I knew that you were doing it for me, and that if I told you afterwards that you had gone too far, you would never do it again. That's wonderful. But it's also part of the problem.

"You see, lately I've been starting to long for being taken, really and truly, against my will. To be forced into all sorts of unmentionable acts with someone who genuinely doesn't care if I like them or not, or want what is happening. I have fantasies about being captured by pirates, slavers, enemy agents determined on some kind of twisted revenge, and being fucked and tortured as much as they like, not as much as I like."

There, I'd finally said it. He laid there for a full minute or two, digesting what I'd said. Finally, he answered, "Well, you know that I've got a well-equipped soundproof dungeon downstairs. I could lock you down there, do whatever I wanted, and never, ever let you go. I could bring friends by to fuck you - even invite complete strangers. You've never told any of your friends about me or where you go on some of these weekends. You always turn off your phone before the evening begins so nobody could track you. You could disappear without a trace and be my total slave for ever."

"That's sweet, Jonathan. But that's the problem. You would do it because you knew I wanted it. And I would know that, if I really begged, you would eventually release me, just because that's the sort of person you are. You see why you can't really help me with this? Nobody can."

I started to cry a little and snuggled closer. "I just needed to get that off my chest, even if you can't do anything about it. I feel better now." I played with his cock a little, and he rubbed his finger gently in my pussy, but he seemed far away. Not distant as if I had wrecked our relationship, just mulling things over. Finally, he gave me a long kiss and we went to sleep.

**

He didn't phone me the next week, and I was petrified that I had lost him. But the week after that, he phoned me and set up a date. He went out for dinner, spent some time at a bar with a couple of his friends and a couple of mine, and then went back to my place. We had great sex, as usual, this time featuring me hanging from a doorframe by my feet while he worked me over with a flogger and then went down my inverted throat with his cock until I thought I was going to die.

After we were done and we were lying in bed in pleasant afterglow, he propped himself up on one elbow and said, "Angie, I may have a solution for you. I had to think a lot about it, because if you go this route, I may never see you again. But you're not the love of my life, just the most awesome fuck-toy I've ever had. Now that I know what I'm looking for, I'm sure I can find another."

That really stung me. I had no real illusions about how deep our relationship really went, but I still didn't like to hear it. Still, I wondered if, being the Jonathan that he was, he was just saying it because he wanted to give me an out in case I took him up on whatever the hell he was about to broach with me.

I gave him an expectant "go on" look, and he went on.

"Before I met you, I had a lot of trouble finding a woman who shared my taste in sex. I craved really heavy BDSM, and I just couldn't find a woman who would go as far as I wanted to. A couple of times, I got the pent-up demand out of my system at Theo's.

"A friend of mine put me on to him, which is a good thing because unless you knew exactly where to find him, you never would. His site is buried deep in the dark web - not something you can just google. And he never lets you know where he is physically. The couple of times I went there, I prearranged a pickup and a guy came for me in a van with blacked-out rear windows and a partition between me and the driver. He made sure I had left my phone behind, and then we drove around for three or four hours, a lot of it on a freeway, and I had no idea where I was or where I was going. We started here in Windsor, but we might have ended up in Toronto, or Hamilton, or half way to fucking Halifax. We might even have driven around in circles and ended up right back here. We went into an underground garage and I left the same way, so I still have no idea where his physical base of operations is..

"The reason Theo (if that's his real name) has to be so careful is that he doesn't just run a semi-legitimate whorehouse. His girls are real slaves. At my intake interview, he told me that he kidnaps some of them, and buys others from slave traders. They are total captives who can never leave. As a result, he can turn clients loose to do absolutely anything they want to them as long as they don't leave any marks that will last past the next morning and spoil their re-rental value. As a result, his service is really, really expensive - lots of overhead keeping up a high-end secure facility and looking after the slaves. I couldn't afford to go there more than a couple of times."

I let this sink in for a while. "My God, don't they try to escape?"

"Of course they'd like to," Jonathan replied. "Not many of them were into pain and bondage on the outside, and their attitude doesn't change once they are Theo's property. And of course even if they were, they would naturally want to do it on their own terms, not at Theo's command and the clients' whims. But evidently Theo has several ways of insuring that escapes never happen. He didn't go into detail, but he made it clear that mostly they don't even try. Certainly if even one made it out, it would be the end of his whole operation. Once you are a slave of Theo's, he explained to me, you're his for life.

"And parts of it aren't as bad as you might think. Apart from being tied up, fucked and beaten by strangers once a day or so, they're pretty well treated. He needs to keep them in good shape, so they have comfortable quarters, good food, regular medical attention - way better conditions than at the average women's prison, he assured me."

I searched Jonathan's face to see if he was putting me on, but he seemed as serious as I've ever seen him. On the one hand I was horrified. On the other, I found myself getting wet all over again, just thinking of that kind of truly involuntary slavery. In one part of my mind, a part I wish I didn't keep going to, Jonathan was describing the life I had been fantasizing about for months.

"Thing is, I got back in touch with Theo on Tuesday, and asked him point blank if, hypothetically, he would be interested in a slave who actually wanted to do it, who would voluntarily give him that kind of power over her for the rest of her life. He thought about it for a while and said that, sure, he could be interested, just as long as she knew going in that there would be absolutely no backing out, ever.

"So there. If that's the sort of thing you really want, he said he was willing to give you a thorough run-down on how it all works before you commit, and then take you on if you still want to do it."

I was totally shell-shocked. I had never in a million years thought that such a place could exist, not here in Canada. Sex slaves were for the third world, or else were poor, exploited girls lured into the sax trade and then kept there by their own destitution and lack of options, and usually their addictions. What Jonathan described, especially the bondage and discipline part, was beyond the imagination of the sleaziest porn video writer - and I had checked out a lot of bondage porn. And here it was, being offered to me as a lifestyle that I could adopt for myself if I chose.

I sat in silence for a long few minutes. I decided to take him seriously, and finally gathered myself enough to say, "I ... I'd have to think really hard about this."

"Take you time. I know it's a totally life-altering decision. Theo didn't seem in any hurry. It's not as if the offer is going to be withdrawn any time soon. And he was clear that he'd show you exactly what you would be getting into, and that you could back out at that point if you didn't want to go through with it. But he was clear that if you said yes, you would be just like all the other girls. Backing out would no longer be an option."

**

All the next week, my mind kept circling back to what Jonathan had said. I tried to concentrate on work, but the thought of being able to surrender that much control made me so wet that I eventually had to start wearing panty shields inside my underwear to keep from leaving wet spots on my office chair. By the time I saw Jonathan again on Friday, I had made up my mind.

Our bondage scene was over for the time being, and we were lying in bed, my wrists still cuffed but my body otherwise unrestrained. I pulled my mouth free from what it was doing to his half-erect cock, looked levelly up into his face, and said, "I'll do it."

Still a bit spaced from the royal rogering he had given me earlier, he didn't get it for a few seconds, then he said, "Oh, you mean about Theo."

"That's right. If he's willing to give me a no-commitment tour of his operation, I want to see it. I'll make up my mind then on whether I want to sign on."

"OK," he said. "I'll leave Theo a message via our usual channels tomorrow and let him know. If he's still interested, he'll send someone for you."

"How will I know when he's ready to see me?" I asked.

"Oh, you'll know," he replied cryptically.

**

The next week passed in a fever of anticipation. How would Theo contact me? Would I get a long e-mail with a set of complicated instructions to meet at such-and-such a place? Would I get a phone call? A knock on my door?

What I didn't expect was to be walking to the parking garage after work and see a black full-sized van slow down next to me. A side door opened, a pair of strong hands grabbed me, and before I could even yelp in protest, I found myself inside the back of the van.

A partition separated the large rear compartment from the driver's area so I couldn't see who was driving or where we were going, just the way Jonathan had told me. Aside from two swivel seats, the back was largely empty, although I couldn't help noticing a number of rings set into the floor. Bondage attachment points, I guessed. I noticed a few cabinets along one wall. I had no idea what they held, but guessing made me squirm with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

The other seat held a large, trim, well-muscled man who looked to be in his late thirties. He was white, but with a swarthy cast to his skin that made him look like the quintessential pirate stereotype. He had a neatly trimmed brown beard and short brown hair that set off a rugged but attractive face.

He swivelled the chair around to face me. "Hi," he said. "I'm Theo."

**

Although I was there of my own more or less free will, Theo said that I should get a taste of what his slaves went through when he "recruited" them. He took a pair of sturdy leather cuffs from one of the cabinets and fastened my wrists behind my back. I had a feeling that it might not be the last time I'd be wearing them.

"Normally at this point you'd also be securely gagged and blindfolded, with your ankles chained to a couple of floor rings," he explained. "And maybe naked. But since you can't see where we're going anyway, and you're here for the first tourist tour I've ever given, I thought the cuffs would suffice." He sat me down in the other swivel chair and reached around me to fasten my seat belt. "Safety first," I thought to myself, but since I couldn't reach the buckle to undo the seat belt, it had the added bonus of making sure I damn well stayed put in the seat.

I had no way of keeping track of time, but I figure we drove for at least two or three hours, much of it on freeways just as Jonathan had said. Theo told me that he didn't want to talk too much about his operation, since he was going to let me see for myself when we got there, so we made mostly small talk while we drove.

He did tell me more about how he acquires his slaves. "I've bought a few from slavers," he said, "but I don't really feel good about going that route. It can be really expensive, and you're likely to end up with some poor, frightened young woman who's been lied to about a modelling career, or maybe thought she was going into some quasi-legitimate sex work. Often they're immigrants with no other way to make a living, or addicted to drugs and taken advantage of by pimps. I'd rather just abduct them fresh. I take all kinds to keep variety in my lineup, but I particularly relish abducting overprivileged, spoiled rich girls who drive the Lamborghini that Daddy got them for their sixteenth birthday."

Jesus, I thought. This guy is a serial kidnapper, rapist and torturer, but he feels guilty about exploiting a victim of previous exploitation. The sociopathic mind is obviously a very complicated and mysterious thing.

"So you know a lot about them before you pick them up?"

"Oh yes, I stalk them for weeks or months. I know their habits, their tastes, their character, what they look like in the shower, how they treat men..." He paused for a minute. "Most of them are complete strangers, just character types but no-one I know personally. But I've taken a couple who I've had run-ins with before. The kind who use men up and toss them aside like dirty paper cups. I particularly enjoy breaking those ones in to their new life."

Theo fell silent. I could tell that he didn't like talking much about his prior experience with women, so we drove on in silence for a while as I digested what he'd told me so far.

Eventually the van slowed, and I felt a light thump as we drove over something, probably at the entrance to a garage. We stopped, Theo unbuckled my seat belt, and he helped me out. Yes, I was in an underground garage that held for or five other vehicles, mostly vans. He uncuffed my wrists and tossed the cuffs back in the van, closed the door, and started leading me down a corridor. We went through another heavy door that he opened with a thumb print and we entered what seemed to be a lobby area.

"I thought we'd start the tour with the slave quarters," he said, opening a much lighter and more ordinary door.

I don't know what I expected from "slave quarters." Maybe women chained to walls, lying on filthy mats, that sort of thing. Instead I found myself in what appeared to be a comfortable common room. Seven or eight women occupied it. Some of them were watching a movie on a large-screen television in one corner. Another sat in a wide armchair reading a book. A few more sat around a table, charting and eating nuts from a bowl. All of them wore comfortable-looking pyjama-like outfits that reminded me slightly of prison jumpsuits. They looked around curiously at this woman wearing fashionable street clothes and obviously being shown around by their captor and boss. I guessed they didn't get many tours down here.

"It's a fairly slow evening in the middle of the week, so these ones are all off duty today. They can do what they like with their free time, except that they have to keep in shape with at least an hour a day of exercise." We walked around a corner, and through a glass partition I could see a small but well-equipped gym. Several women were working out on treadmills and elliptical trainers, and one swam naked in a small pool. She wasn't going anywhere, but I could see that the pool was equipped with a current machine that kept the water moving and that she was swimming against it in a simulation of swimming laps.

"They each have a personal space for down time and a good night's sleep." Theo showed me a row of cubicles, small but comfy-looking with a bed, a couple of chairs, a small television, and a makeup table plentifully supplied with cosmetics. There was even a computer, which surprised me. "They can browse the internet all they like, or stream movies. Of course, though signals can come in, absolutely no signal can go out. I have a very competent tach who makes sure of that. They also get three good meals a day, nutritious snacks between meals if they feel like it, better medical care than they would likely get on the outside ... I'm not running a punishment operation here. Except, of course, they can never leave."

I asked a question I had been dreading asking. "How do you make sure they can never leave?"

"They are under video surveillance all the time, and I have an excellent security team. The outer door is always secured. And then of course there's this." We left the slave quarters and entered a large office. Four large video screens faced a desk with a keyboard and an array of extra controls. One screen showed the room we had just been in. Others just showed empty rooms. Theo sat down at the desk and punched up a video on one of the screens. "I have only had one slave nearly make a break for it. Pure carelessness on my part - I left her get too close to the door when not properly secured."