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From: boonthailand@hotmail.com (Boon)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 7 Jun 2001 16:15:06 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Lesbian White Slavery (Parts One and Two)
Date: Thu,  7 Jun 2001 23:10:01 -0400
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Quite a few employees hate the child who inherits the family business
especially when it is his spoiled daughter - and in my case, the
enmity directed toward me was not only from my father's former
workers, but also from the people we work with.  Of course this was to
be expected as our family business is white slavery.
  	I'm twenty-two.  My father started me in the business six months
ago when I got out of college.  George Bush had already ruined the
economy and it was pretty tough to get a job in traditional lines of
work so after a few dozen rejections, I decided to hit up my father
for a gig.
Since I was a child he was in the import/export business, but whenever
I had asked him what exactly he exported or imported he just smiled
and said it was classified information - and I would need a security
clearance to know.  End of discussion.
   	So I sat down with Dad and told him the facts of life.  There
wasn't any work to be had for a psych major...and if I didn't get some
money soon I was going to have to make it in unsavory ways.
   	"Unsavory?" he asked, "Like what...rob a bank? Deal drugs?"
 	"No, I'm a little more risk adverse than that," I replied.  "But
let's face it I'm five foot eight, I've got a great figure, straight
blond hair, and men like to shell out bid dough for my type of look."
   	"So you planning on becoming a hooker or a stripper?"
   	"A girl has to eat, so I'll have to unless you can use your
influence to find a job for your sweet little daughter," I replied.
   	"You don't have a problem with such ethics?"
   	"Dad, I grew up with Kenneth Starr, Ronald Reagan, Charles
Keating, the Bushs taking over the country by a coup d'etat... who the
fuck cares about ethics?"
   	"I'm proud of you," he smiled...and then he broke the news what he
did for a living.  "I kidnap, train, and sell girls -turning them into
slave whores."
   	"You mean I've been living with a father who is a white slaver?"
   	"Yes.  It's put food on your table all your life."
   	"How do you sleep at night?" I asked.
   	"Well actually I sleep quite well, usually because I'm fucking
exhausted from screwing  the slaves all night," he grinned.
   	Well to make a long story short Dad brought me into the business.
It wasn't a very big organization.  His secretary was Tawny, an
Amazonian looking girl who he had kidnapped and trained to satisfy
every need.  If there was a letter that needed to be written, a meal
that needed to be cooked, a desk that needed cleaning, a cock that
needed to be sucked, Tawny did it all quickly and without question.
"Tawny used to be a lawyer named Catherine Johannson, but I convinced
her she didn't like either her job or her name," Dad told me matter of
factly one day while he was getting a blowjob from the slut.  "She's
trained in all pleasure activities, including if you're ever
interested, cunt licking."
  	It's kind of weird letting your father know I was intrigued by
Tawny's skills, and it was even weirder letting him watch, but I
figured it would break the ice and let Dad know I sincerely shared his
enthusiasm for the job... so I lifted up my skirt and allowed Tawny to
service me.  Dad was right, she was skilled...very skilled indeed.
  	"She's pretty good eh? Kristen?" Dad asked as I screamed out in
orgasm.  "That's why I keep her around and never have sold her, that
plus the circus tits I had her installed with," he reached around
Tawny and squeezed one of her 40 EE breasts.
  	"Thank you mistress for allowing this slave to please you," Tawny
said so sweetly I nearly came again.  Being called "mistress" was
intoxicating.
  	"So dad...show me the ropes."
  	Dad showed me the ropes - and other manacles too for that matter
while teaching me how to spot a likely target, research her, stalk
her, and then with the aid of two associates of dubious moral
character, kidnap her.  The training was done using the Pavlovian
method - supplimented by a special drug cocktail which would reduce
even the strongest willed girl into a crawling sniveling and
ultimately well trained slave within a few months of exquisite
torture.
  	I was a quick learner and within two weeks Dad allowed me to choose
my first girl for my own conversion.
  	I put a great deal of thought into what I would like in a slave
before making my selection.  Afterall you don't want to go through all
the bother of training someone and then discover there's no market for
her.  So most men like tall big titted blondes...kind of like
myself...which is a little scary since it easily could be me
handcuffed, trussed up like a turkey, with a dildo in two orifices and
a cattle prod in my ass.
 	Her name was Sally Estep.  I say was, because her new name is just
Bambi.  Sally like so many other girls had come to Hollywood from a
small town in middle America to become a star.  She was the prettiest
thing in Dubuque but here she was just another pretty face...and after
handing out head shots all over town ended up working as a
receptionist in a Beverly Hills hotel - hoping to be discovered by
some influential producer.  Her hopes halfway came to fruition.  She
was discovered - except unfortunately it was by me.
   	The snatch was easy.  Every day she went home to her apartment
just off of Melrose and would then eat dinner, shower put on her
makeup and get dressed for a night of clubbing around Hollywood.
I rang her doorbell at 7:30.  I told her I had just had my purse
snatched and needed to call the police.  She considerately let me in. 
That was a big mistake.  I walked in as she bolted the door.  "Wait
you said you had your purse stolen - but you're carrying a bag..."
  	Smart girl.  But a little late, as I had already reached into my
purse and pulled out a gun... just like the ones Charlton Heston likes
everyone to have.
  	"If you want to live, turn around put your hands against the wall
and spread your legs," I ordered.
  	Sally started to scream and I was faced with my first crisis.  Do I
shoot her and damage the merchandise or do I risk subduing her with
non lethal force.  I chose a variation of the former and shot off a
silenced round right past her ear shattering a picture of her family. 
It brought her around really quickly to obeying me.
  	"Please I'll do anything.  Don't hurt me," she begged as she turned
around and faced the wall.
  	"Shut up whore," I ordered as I kicked her legs apart and frisked
her.
  	"I'm not a whore."
  	"Yes you are, or at least will be, and shut the fuck up," I pistol
whipped her since she had failed to follow orders."
 	She slumped to the ground and within moments I had her hogtied and
gagged.  I considerately wiped off the blood from the back of her
pretty head, and held a cold compress to it while she came to before I
used an ether coated rag to put her back out.  Then I called my
father's two associates who were waiting in the van to help remove her
to our training facility.
  	Our training facility is an old bomb shelter - built in the sixties
when the Ruskies were going to be coming over the hill any moment.  It
has only one entrance through a secret passage in our basement boiler
room.  It's reinforced concrete and soundproof to the world.  It keeps
radiation out - and screams in.
  	When Sally finally came to she was naked strapped to a table, with
a dildo in her cunt, a red ball gag in her mouth, and a cattle prod in
her ass.  I don't think she was faking being out, but no matter a
discharge of the cattle prod brought her thrashingly awake pronto.
  	"Mmmph", or something reasonable variation thereof  was screamed
through her
gag.  I assumed she meant to ask. "What the fuck's going on and who
are you?"
  	Having read "Dress For Success" in college, I realized one must
look the part if you are going to earn respect - and I meant to earn
my new slave's respect quickly.  So I had purchased a dominatrix
uniform, the standard five inch stiletto knee high black patent
leather boots, with matching shoulder length opera gloves, a leather
bustier, a cat of nine tails strapped to a thick patent leather belt,
and a pair of crotchless panties with fishnet stockings.  A bit too
conventional and predictable for my tastes, but power dressing was
important - and judging from the hard on my dad had - it was
effective.
  	"Pardon me for being a bit rude when we first met, but allow me to
introduce myself.  I am Mistress Kristen.  I am your owner.  You are
my slave.  I am going to take the gag out of your mouth and you are
going to repeat what I just told you."
  	I took the gag out.
  	"What the fuck..."
  	Bad answer.
  	A jolt from the cattle prod sent her bowels discharging all over my
clean table.  Well that's what slaves tongues are for, I thought as I
waited for her to calm down - and try answering the question
correctly.
  	"What were you supposed to say?" I repeated.
  	"Don't..."
  	Wrong answer again.  She wasn't as smart as I had thought.  This
time she didn't have much to pee out, but she sure did thrash about
like a fish out of water.  Too bad she was tied down so she didn't
have too far to go.
  	"Do you have anything to say slave?" I repeated.
  	"You are my owner.  I am a slave," she whimpered.
  	I gave her another jolt.  "You left out my name."
  	"You are Kristen..." she got it half right before screaming again
as a jolt rearranged her innards.
  	"I believe I'm you're Mistress Kristen," I said calmly. "Let's try
it again."
  	She got it right to both our reliefs.  I really am not into
sadism...I'm just into money and power - and also I do like sex a bit
too if that counts.
  	"Good...Now that we have established our relationship, let me tell
you the rules.  There are only two for now.  One is you obey me
unquestionably at all times.  Two you call me by my proper name all
the time.  Is that clear?"
  	"Yes Mistress Kristen," she assented in time to avoid another jolt
from the cattle prod.
  	"Have you ever licked a pussy?"
  	"No Mistress Kristen."
 	"Don't you think you should learn?" 
  	"No Mistress Kristen...Oww!! Don't shock me Mistress Kristen!"
  	I gave her another blast.  "That's for trying to give me an order.
The first one was for being disagreeable."
  	"You never said anything about being agreeable Mistress Kristen,"
the cunt managed to get out before I zapped her again.
  	"No one likes a smart ass," I waited for her to calm down.  "Now
let me ask you again do you think you should learn to eat pussy."
  	"Yes Mistress Kristen."
  	She was halfway trained.
  	I straddled her face and put her tongue to work.  "Don't even think
about biting slave... you might cause me some pain...but I don't think
you'll like it if I'm mad."
  	She wasn't very good.  Even after ten minutes I hadn't come, but to
her credit she tried and kept her sniffling to a minimum even when I
flogged her a few times to increase her enthusiasm.
  	Finally I realized she needed instruction, so I got up and reached
for the intercom.  "Dad could you lent me Tawny for a little while?  I
think she could be useful here."
  	"Sure sugar.  Let her finish blowing me...and she'll be right
down."
  	Five minutes later Tawny was between my legs, her head next to
Sally's.
"Sister slave, this is how you please our Mistress Kristen," she said
as she tongued that sweet spot on my clitoris.  I came quickly and
hard.  I needed a moment to catch my breath, so I had Sally show me if
she had learned anything on Tawny.
  	She had.  Tawny screamed out her orgasm in less than two
minutes...although I may have helped out the teeniest bit by flogging
Tawny's fat udders a couple of times.
  	I looked down at Sally.  She looked a little different than in her
head shots.  Her makeup was ruined, her mascara, tears, and Tawny and
my juices had streamed down her face. But she did look sexy.
  	According to my father - within two months of continuous training,
sleep deprivation and maybe a slightly altered diet... Sally would be
a perfect slave.  He then wanted to break her to the cock.
  	Dad said her cocksucking technique was good, "I think this girl was
born to give head," he said pulling his dick from her throat.  But I
want to see how she is at fucking.  "I think I'm going to fuck her to
death."
  	Unfortunately he was right.  Dad came hard...too hard... and
suffered a fatal heart attack.
  	I was now in charge.

	Considering my father's lifestyle it was rather ironic to hold his
funeral in a church.  Father McEwen, oblivious to how futile his job
was, tried valiantly to grease the skids into heaven for my dearly
departed dad, mouthing platitude after platitude.  If I paid any
further attention to his bullshit I was going to either throw up or
shout out the truth - that my father Alexander Holden Worthington was
a Republican and a white slaver who had shattered the lives of
countless young women.  There was no final salvation for the man.  He
was consigned to Hell. But since I was taking over the family business
that would be rather counterproductive; so instead I looked past my
escort and slave, Tawny and surveyed the assembled mourners.
 	The funeral was much more attended than I had planned for (Damn, I
was going to have to shell out a few more bucks of dad's estate on
food and booze for his wake!).  Much to my surprise was the attendance
of quite a few beautiful women who were attached to well dressed older
men's arms like expensive jewelry.  I surmised a great number of these
mourners were both my father's customers and his product.
	As they tossed the first round of dirt on my father's coffin, a slimy
looking weasel (resembling George Bush minus the look of absolute
stupidity of the energy business's puppet dictator) in an Armani suit
approached Tawny and me.
	"Your father was a great man who has left a great and terrible void,"
he stated while staring right through my tasteful Chanel black dress
at my breasts.
	"My father was an evil son of a bitch," I corrected him, "however you
can rest assured there is no void."
	"But his business..."
	"Is staying within the family," I interrupted him.
	"Are you aware of the scope of your father's business interests?" the
man clearly didn't believe women should penetrate the business' glass
curtain.
	I grabbed Tawny by her collar and spun her around in front of me to
face the man,  "Yes I am."
	He stared, or maybe I should say, drooled as my father's former toy
swooned against her new Mistress.  "Perhaps we might talk business.  I
am interested in acquiring some product of the superior quality your
father turned out."
	"Something new, or something used?" I asked, caressing Tawny - who
seemed alarmed that I may be considering disposing of her.
	"Something beautiful and well trained is all I ask."
	"Perhaps someday you can come to our showroom some time where we
might be less inhibited in our discussions." I suggested, "but first I
must check your references."
	His references were impeccable.  He had earned his money the old
fashion way, inheriting his father's tobacco fortune - and then
invested heavily in both oil and Bush's coup d'etat against the
American people.  He was evil personified - a bottom feeding parasite
- who had spread his fair share of misery upon the world - in other
words a perfect customer.
	Two days later Tawny escorted Herbert Reynolds him into our showroom.
 I was dressed in my dominatrix uniform which had become second nature
to me by this time...and I noticed immediately the sight of a strong
woman intimidated our customer.  That's probably why he compensated by
being a Republican... trying to legislate women back into being baby
machines with no power over their bodies.
	To put our potential customer at ease I had Bambi, the former Sally
Estep attend to his personal needs.  This was to be Bambi's debut
performance - and I had to insure she did nothing to embarrass me or
denigrate my company's tradition of pride in product.  Consequently I
had sparsely dressed her in a pair of six inch stiletto Manolo Blahnik
heels, a garter belt and a given her a special supercharged electric
bark collar as a neckless, similar to the one sadists put around their
dogs to prevent them from barking.
	"Unzip Mr. Reynolds and pleasure him while we discuss business," I
ordered.
	Unfortunately for her Bambi was not the brightest bulb on the planet
and when she hesitated for a moment I found it necessary to press the
button on my remote control.  She writhed a moment and a trickle of
pee ran down her leg, but to her credit she eagerly fell to he knees
and went to work extracting Mr. Reynolds' cock... which wasn't the
easiest job since he was rather poorly endowed...maybe three inches or
so...the guy probably drove a Porsche or a Ferrari.  But cock size
isn't anywhere near as important as bank account size in my book...
and Reynolds was loaded.
	"What are you looking to acquire, Herbert?" 
	"Ah, something like this girl, but I rather like bigger breasts."
	"Easy enough modifications.  We can have breasts installed to your
specifications.  What size would you like?"
	"Something significant.  I want my associates to look at her with
envy.  Something bigger than your girl there," he pointed at Tawny
whose breasts were already nothing short of massive.
	"Not a problem.  Do you like this girl otherwise?"
	"Well to tell the truth I'd like someone a little bit more
enthusiastic," he said as he tried to fuck the slave's face.
	I debated about increasing Bambi's enthusiasm by administering
another shock, but as she was conjoined to Mr. Reynolds' groin, the
electrical charge would pass through her body into his - which would
be amusing and deserved - but would not be conducive to closing the
deal.   So instead I reached for the whip I kept attached to my belt
and gave her a few stripes.
	Her enthusiasm for her task mounted.
	And Reynolds came immediately.
	"She might do," he said as he regained his composure, "but I was
wondering if you did custom work."
	"It's our specialty, but of course it costs slightly extra.  Who do
you have in mind?"
	"My business partner has a eighteen year old daughter, Chrystal.  I
want her badly... and I want to humiliate her, and her entire family."
	He went into detail concerning his partner's daughter.  She was
beautiful, spoiled and had rejected Herbert's advances.  In fact she
had not only spurned him but had also succeeded in poisoning the trust
between Herbert and her father - so much that Chrystal's father was
now engaged in an audit of the company's books - which was something
Mr. Reynolds was not too keen upon.  Yes, Reynolds was a real scumbag,
Republican through and through... and his contempt for society was
intoxicating... so much so that I had Bambi come squat in front of me
while we finished our discussions.
	We negotiated while Bambi's tongue played a symphony on my clitoris.
The negotiations were brief and very satisfying.  I came within
seconds, but to this day I'm not sure whether it was Bambi's well
practiced tongue or the figure we settled on - ten million dollars.

   (to be continued)

Contrary to the ridiculous tag line posted at the bottom of this by
deja.com, this is not copyrighted by the Berne convention - and feel
free to plagiarize this to death if you can make some dough off it!

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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