Phil's Site

Tales from a parallel universe

I am Belle, I am twelve. I am a sex slave. I am hog tied and enclosed inside a padded wooden box in the back of my uncle's van. He has rented me for the next six months. This is my first time away from my parents and I am so sexually excited by the prospect of things to come that the inside of the box smells strongly of my pussy.

I have been, over the years, enhanced for my role in life. My lips, areolas, and inner pussy lips have been augmented with my own body fat. My outer nether lips have been surgically trimmed to show off the interior. Both the inner lips and hood have been stretched to hang below the outer lips. My clitoris has been artificially enlarged both in length and girth. My vagina has been deepened. My G spot was augmented with collagen. All that was done before they discovered my genetic defect. I am well below average height for a twelve-year-old, and was given HGH in the hopes it would help. All it did was give me nicely rounded breasts. They didn't give up on me even though the outcome looked bleak. Who wants to give up on their own kin? My tongue, both my nipples, and my pussy have been pierced and adorned with rings and beads. True to my name a bell hangs off my hood and bangs on my thighs, so that I ring as a walk. My anus is bleached and plugged. The plug only coming out for the call of nature and the enjoyment of man. My rectum has been modified so that a half turn of the butt plug locks it in place. Off the end of the plug is a red leather flag on a chain that hangs down below my ass cheeks to show anyone interested that the plug is in place. I have been taught to urinate on demand just like a race horse. I can not stop the flow just like I can't stop the flow of the Mississippi. I have a floral tattoo starting on my mons and continuing through my crotch and up the valley of my buttocks.

My training started when I was two years old and learned to suck my father's cock. At about the same time I was potty trained, quit wearing diapers and have been mostly naked since. I was body waxed starting at five so I will never develop pubic hair. I lost my virginity when I was eight and have since had a regular regiment of intercourse. I started puberty when I was nine. That is when it was discovered that I wasn't going to grow all that much.

Over the years I have been taught that there are three kinds of pain, pain to punish, pain to sexually arouse, and natural pain, such as when I accidentally cut my finger. Of course, I like pain to arouse the best. I love being aroused. I love when my nipples are swollen and hard. I love having a squishy sex from my own juices. I dream of sex all the time. Dream of being on the rack and whipped, or royally screwed. I can almost - almost think myself to a climax.

There are slaves and then there are slaves. The vast majority work in the factories and on the farms. Then there are the purebred, the pedigreed ones. All of us came from the old world, our ancestors were serfs and indentured themselves in the hope of a better life, but things did not turn out that way. In spite of the promises they were never freed. Some, like me, can trace their heritage back to the first ships that came here. Some, like me, were bred to be sex slaves. The paternal side of the family have all been masters while the maternal side were all slaves. Thing is, no matter how much master DNA is in my genes I will always be a slave, that's the law. I would be worth my weight in gold if I weren't the runt of the liter. I have learned to live with my short comings, (ed. sorry for the pun.)

I heard the back doors of the van being opened. I felt the box being moved, then lifted and carried. I slid a bit toward one end of the box as we went up the stairs. The box was put down with a small thud. I heard the latches being unfastened and suddenly daylight was flooding the inside of the box. He gently lifted me out of the box. He is called the gentle giant for a reason. He is a muscular six foot five compared to my three foot nine inches. My mother said he would hardly ever punish me, but I could expect him to arouse me frequently with the whip. It is humorously said his philosophy is: speak gently and carry a big prick. I can attest to the size of his penis, having once helped him have sex with my mother. He laid me on my back on his couch. My wrist cuffs were hooked to my ankle cuffs and my knees were roped to my collar to make me the smallest package possible to fit into the box.

He asked, "How are you? Was the ride here in the box okay?" as he rubbed the outside of my cunny.

"There was no problem, sir. The padded box was very comfortable."

"I built it just for you, you know."

"Thank you, sir, that was very kind."

"Let's see how kind you think me after six months."

"Mother says you are the kindest in the land."

He snorted. "We'll see," he said. Then he added, "The reason I rented you is that I find you sexy with your diminutive body and maturing breasts. I like the way my brother has spared no expense in modifying you to the highest standards of slavedom."

On a growth chart my height is that of an eight-year-old while my breasts are in line with the size of a thirteen or fourteen-year-old. Such is my plight, to the sorrow of my parents.

"What kind of whip do you prefer for sex play?" he asked.

"The cat, sir, but without the knots or weights at the ends."

"I think I have one of those around somewhere." He swung open a door and there was at least a dozen different whips hanging on hooks on the backside of the door. "Hmm," he scanned his collection, "Nope, not here. Maybe it's in the basement. I am sure I have one somewhere. If not, what is your second choice?"

"A horse hair whip, sir."

"That I know I have, but I'll look for the cat-o'-nine tail first."

He came back and sat down next to me again. He petted my pussy. Oh god that felt good! "I just hope you are as good as you look. You are a very pretty slave, you know."

"Thank you, sir. I will try to fulfill your every sexual desire." I once asked my mother why uncle never took on a slave permanently for procreation purposes. She told me because he is much too picky. Not that I had to worry, incest for the purposes of procreation was outlawed. I was too young to impregnate, but just in case I also wore an IUD.

"I am sure you will, or maybe I should say you better if you know what's good for you." He must have seen my face go pale as my heart sank with the words. "Just kidding, just kidding. I am sure you will do just fine. You studied the Karma Sutra, Perfumed Garden and Pillow Book did you not?"

"Yes, sir, every position possible, but some I know I am too small to get into."

"Don't worry. We won't be using those, but if I tell you to get into the Mallaka position I expect you to know what to do."

"Yes, sir, on my tummy, my legs, as wide apart as possible, curled over my back and my ankles held by my hands." I just prayed I remembered them all.

"Very good," he said, "But you will find that takes a lot of practice to get that one right. Would my little one like to be released from her bondage?"

"Yes, sir. I am starting to cramp up."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did not think I was allowed to until you asked, sir."

"That is right, very good. Your parents trained you well." He took the rope knot out of the D-ring of my collar and unwrapped my knees. He unsnapped the links that secured my wrist cuffs to my ankle cuffs. I stretched out my legs and shook my arms and legs. It felt good.

"What is the rule about talking?" he asked.

"There are two actually. The first is - a slave is to be seen and not heard. The second is - a slave does not speak unless spoken to."

"Outstanding. Your parents should be proud of you and commended for teaching you well. A follow up question, you said a slave should be seen, how should a slave be seen?"

"Preferably naked, or as the situation dictates, as little clothes as possible."

"Right again." He stood up. "Open your legs wide," he said. I did and he slapped my pussy hard. The pain shot up my clit; it made me even wetter, and more aroused.

"Did that feel good?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, thank you."

"I know what my little one needs." I wasn't fond of being called little one, but one does not argue with their master. "Sit on the couch with your legs spread...good girl." He sat next to me. His fingers went into my pussy slowly stroking back and forth while at times playing with my engorged clit. "What else did your parents teach you?"

Apparently he had no idea how hard it was for me to think when aroused. On second thought I decided he knew perfectly well and was testing me. "The first cardinal rule is that a slave will always obey instantly no matter what the circumstances."

"What if by doing so the slave is put in dire jeopardy?"

"The slave may use her safe word, but the slave may never use the word frivolously. She must be prepared to rationally explain the use of her safe word once she has defied her master's wishes."

"What if she is gagged and cannot speak?"

"Then the slave should use her safe gesture."

"Your parents told me your safe word is 'distress' and your safe gesture is three rapid shrugs of your shoulder. Is this correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"What else did your parents teach you?"

"Many things, sir."

"Give me one more example."

He was slowly sliding two of his fingers in and out of my vagina. Breathing was near impossible for me, much less thinking. I felt so doggone foolish, several time I open my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Finally a thought came to me, by that time I was totally embarrassed. "A slave has no privileges except those earned from her master. Privileges can be taken away by her master at any time."

"Very true, I am going to start you out with two basic privileges; you will eat normal food and sleep in my bed with me. If you lose those privileges you will eat baby food and sleep on the floor. If you somehow lose those privileges then you will be eating mush and drinking tepid water. You will sleep standing up. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fine. Now I want you to get between my legs and suck my cock."

I immediately jumped to. I knelt between his thighs, unzipped his fly and fished out his penis. Even limp it was immense. By the time it grew to full size I wrapped both hands around it and still had plenty to put in my mouth. I felt like I wasn't doing it justice, I could not wrap my tongue around it like I could my daddy's. He ran his fingers through my hair. "I love your hair," he said. I was very proud of my hair, a light brown; it had never been cut, as far as I know. It draped all the way down past my crotch and dividing the hair between the front and back of my body I could almost wear it like a dress. My parents kidded me saying if it got any longer they would have to call me Cousin It, from the Addams Family show.

"You are doing fine," he said. I worked my mouth up and down sliding as far into my mouth as I dared without gagging myself and then backing my head all the way up until the ring at the bottom of the cock head just slipped past my lips. I could taste the salty pre-cum and moaned my approval. Soon enough he clamped my head with his hands and said, "It's coming." It gave me just enough time to close my throat so he didn't shoot his cum straight down it and choke me. My cheeks quickly filled with his load and I was swallowing the bittersweet brine as fast as I could. Afterward he hugged me and told me if I did that good three more times he would add another privilege.

"Thank you, sir." I wished I could ask what that privilege might be but that would be presumptuous.

That night he attached my wrist cuffs to a short chain that was attached to the headboard. He got into the bed naked and spooned me against him. He took his cock and drew it between my legs right up against my open pussy. He was warm and cuddly. I drifted off to sleep smelling his manly scent. Surprisingly I awoke the next morning in exactly the same position.

"Is my little one ready to start her first full day as my slave?" I could see, like it or not, I was going to be his 'little one'.

"Yes, sir."

"Use the john first then make us breakfast," he said as he unbound my wrists. I did as I was told. My mother had taught me all housekeeping duties. He was happy with his scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and coffee. "Very good, little one, now clean the house." He certainly made it plain that I wasn't only going to be a sex slave. That afternoon we went to the market. My mother provided him with a dress she made for me. It had a tight lace bodice with an elastic band just under my breasts; from there the dress flowed into a full cut waistless skirt that ended just a few scant inches below my crotch. No underwear, of course, so I had to be careful that the wind didn't lift up the hem my dress. He made it plain that the dress was strictly for outside wear; inside I wore the wrist and ankle cuffs. Like all slaves I wore the collar whether inside or out as required by law. Attached to it was my owner ID tag and city license tag.

After supper, over coffee he reviewed my progress and told me I had done well. He diddled me and got me aroused before ordering me to take the Svanaka position in the middle of the room. The Svanaka position from the Karma Sutra was on my hands and knees like a dog with my knees open so he could kneel between them if he so desired. When I saw him pick up the cat I braced myself. He gave me five strong strokes across my butt with the cat-o'-nine tail which got me even more aroused, and then picked me up like I weighed nothing. We ended up on the couch with me belly down and my butt up over his lap. He continued to diddle me until my juices ran from my pussy and I was moaning like a stray calf. I could not keep my hips still; they kept on trying to help him with his diddling. This I came to find out was his usual treat. The alternative was to tell me what I did wrong. I got five strokes for every demerit and no diddling. On those nights instead of juice leaking from my pussy, tears poured from my eyes.

That first night and every night that I performed to his expectations after he got me quite heated up we had intercourse in his bed. To tell the truth that first night I was scared silly for fear my small body could not take his big cock. It stretched me to the breaking point and I could not quite take all of it even with my lengthened vagina, but the important point was that I satisfied him. He satisfied me too, oh yes, no doubt about that as my orgasms were twice as good as any that I ever had with daddy. As far as I am concerned, size counted.

Saturday I had to scrub the house down from top to bottom and he was very critical of my work. The men started coming over at seven PM. Just to show you how sheltered a life I had led, never before was I naked in the company of strangers, much less nine of them. For the first time ever in my life I found myself embarrassed by all their attention. They were there for a poker game and I was the official cocktail waitress and poker chip. (Did that make me a chippy?) There was one pink chip, that represented me and I was always part of the ante. Who ever won me had full use of me and many times the winner would sit out the next hand so he could take advantage of me. Here again, I had never been used so callously as to be shagged in front of the whole group without fanfare or foreplay. Afterward my uncle asked if I enjoyed myself and I gave him an unequivocal, no. He laughed and said, "Sorry, but that is the life of a slave, to be used by their master however he deemed." I wish I could have told him that didn't mean I had to like it.

The second week did not go nearly as well as the first. He was critical of all that I did. I quickly found out that two demerits meant two times five lashes with the whip and I slept on the floor while hog tied. That was nothing compared to three demerits, first I was whip three times five, or fifteen strokes of the whip and then I was made to stand over a rough textured steel pipe. It was an insidious machine, the pipe stuck out from a cabinet bolted to the floor. The pipe could be moved up or down by means of a crank. I stood over the pipe. My ankle cuffs were chained to the floor and my arms were hooked overhead to a chain coming down from the ceiling. There was no way for me to move other than a couple inches either front or back. He told me to stand on my toes and he cranked the pipe so it pushed up hard against my pussy, then he dropped it back down an inch. Unless one is trained as a ballet dancer there is no way to stand on their toes for an extended period of time, however sitting down with the scratchy pipe inside my pussy was no cakewalk either. I spent the whole night there alternating between positions as the pain of any one position became too much to bear. I would fall asleep on my toes only to be awakened by the pipe pressing hard against my twat. Several times I was tempted to call out my safe word, but at the same time I wanted to prove I was a good, obedient slave even in agony. In the morning after he set me free he was so sympathetic to my plight that I could not stay mad at him, found myself bawling and promising to strive to be a better slave. He let me sleep the morning away in his big bed. I could see why they call him the gentle giant.

The following Saturday evening I was busy answering the door as a dozen men came over. I escorted them to the downstairs home theater. Earlier in the day my uncle modified a hold down table to my stature. Everything, of course, had to be shortened up so that my butt sat half over the end of the table and all the restraints wound up in the right place. Once all the men were seated my uncle ball gagged me. I laid down on the padded top of the table. There were built-in cushioned blocks to pin down my arms next to the side of my body. Chains from the ceiling, attached to the cuffs on my ankles, held my legs in the air and wide apart giving the audience a direct view of my open beaver. The house lights dimmed. The screen behind my head lit up. I craned my neck to see the screen. At first I thought it was a picture of my body from my neck down, but then I saw that the body was not making the same moves as I was, in fact, it looked to be struggling against the restraints while I was just lying there peacefully. My uncle's hands came into view in the video. I could tell by the zigzag scar on the back of his hand. One hand pushed down on the girl's chest. At the same time my uncle's hand pushed down on my chest. The other hand in the video was holding a scalpel. I watched in horror as my uncle slashed diagonally across the girl's nipple, drawing blood. He slashed at it again making an X across the nipple. Her scream filled my ears. I wished I could cover them with my hands to blot out the agony I heard in her voice. The blood ran down the side of her small breast and disappeared between her chest and arm. He did the same to the other breast. I felt a cold hard rake across my nipple and screamed into the ball gag fearful that the same was being done to me. I looked, expecting the worst and waiting for the next slash. When it came I saw it was the edge of an ice cube held between my uncle's fingers. There was a gotcha smile on his face and I nearly laughed with nervous relief.

"Oh my god," someone said in the audience which got my attention back to the screen. Flaming drops of oil were being dripped on the girl's vulva. Her scream was even louder and more terrifying. It made my stomach churn just watching it. I felt a hot drip splatter on my open pussy. I nearly threw up, catching the bile in my mouth and swallowing it. There was a close up of the girl's sex as another drop of flaming oil splashed onto the pink interior. I felt another hot drip on my sex in about the same place. I was dizzy and ready to pass out. It took all my courage to see what my uncle was doing. I prayed to god that it wasn't the same, but I had no other solution as more burning hot drips landed down there. What I saw was my uncle with a candle tilted over my crotch and the hot wax dripping on my nether lips and enlarged clit. That SOB! I wanted to hit him so bad for making me so scared.

He diddled me. "Come on, loosen up, little one. Cream your pussy for me," he said. Damn it, I did. Why, I don't know. He let the chains down until my legs were straight out from my body, but still wide apart. He invited the men to have sex with me in that position. I lost count, but I think all of them complied. It was my first gang bang.

My poor pussy hurt the next day. He took pity on me and let me sleep in. He made no demands of me for the rest of the day. That evening he actually had me laughing about the ordeal telling me that I should have seen the look on my face when he was dripping the candle wax on my pussy, shear, and unadulterated terror. "That video sure was scary, wasn't it?" he asked.

"It was unbelievably life-like."

"What do you mean life-like?"

"It was a dummy, right? That wasn't a real person you dripped the flaming oil on."

"And you know that how?"

"Two reasons. First I saw in the close-up that the pussy looked rubbery and not real. Secondly, I knew the gentle giant could never torture a slave."

"Do you know you are the first to see it was all a fake? All the other slaves thought it was for real." Then he told me that last night was a test, and that I was the first to pass. He hugged me and told me I was one of the best slaves he ever had. I was proud.

My life as a slave became idyllic. He had to hardly ever punish me, but he whipped me for pleasure every day. I showed my gratitude by kissing and sucking his cock every chance I got. I swear that as the months passed he hit me harder and harder so that after a while my butt ached constantly and I was constantly aroused. Truthfully I liked the way my swollen nipples stood straight out from the apex of my breasts with the center core hard as a pebble. At night we had sex in his bed and instead of pulling out he left his cock inside. Even relaxed it was big enough to keep me plugged and many a morning I awoke with it still inside me. One unusual natural feature of my body was several double jointed vertebrae in my spine which allowed me to lick my own pussy. He loved to watch me lick myself like a cat. He took me to town naked to show me off, that is how proud he was of me. Except public nudity, even for slaves was not allowed. We were arrested and taken to the police station. Since my uncle was good friends with the police chief all he had to do was pay a fine. The fine was the chief taking me to the back room, tying me down to the slave's punishment table and flogging me with a quirt, after which he had sex with me while I was still tied down. It was very confusing. To be whipped as punishment was one thing and sex for pleasure was another, the two weren't supposed to be mixed. The police chief did not hold back, the welts from his whipping always lasted at least a week on my butt. That, in no way, deterred my uncle from taking me back to town nude and the whole process repeated itself.

I stood very quietly as they negotiated a sales contract. Much to my surprise, my father was not my father and my uncle was not my uncle. The man I thought was my father was actually my stepfather, which made my uncle my step-uncle. My stepfather was kind enough to buy out my pregnant mother's slavery contract from my biological father's estate after the accident. That meant there was no genetic relationship between me and them. My step-uncle was buying me permanently for procreation purposes. I was absolutely ecstatic, me, the runt, was going to be the gentle giant's first and foremost permanent slave. I couldn't wait to suck his cock and thank him most profusely.

Someday, when I am old enough I will conceive his child. How cool is that?

Edited by Ivy Rose

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