21st Century Subterranean Slavery Part IV


LINE UP & CLIENTS


Guards began to arrive calling one or more slave numbers and leading them away. Lastly the cellblock super ordered the remaining group of thirty or so, not in red shorts to line up in the hallway. She rose still seeing only shadows and picked up the iron ball; moving almost blindly in a trancelike manner following other slaves into the hallway. A guard led her to a spot where her neck chain was joined to a slave in front of her and a chain from behind was connected to her collar. Still blurry eyed she copied the stance of the females in front standing at attention. The guard then prodded her to maintain a certain distance from the slave in front. When satisfied with everyone's posture she addressed them.

"Concentrate on satisfying this evening's client as we walk, do not loose focus." They walked slowly through several hallway tunnels until they neared a door. "The door will open in one minute; remember you are sex slaves recently rounded up in a slave raid, transported in a filthy smelly slave ship. When the door opens you will cross the deck and walk down a ramp, which from inside the hall will look like a boarding ramp from an eighteenth century sailing ship A week ago you were free citizens in other nations, today each of you will be displayed stark naked and sold as property to an owner who can beat, abuse, fuck or even kill you at will; in other words: satisfy your future owner completely or you can be beaten senseless or die. 

You will walk down the boarding ramp looking dejected and scared, walking deliberately in a disorderly jerky manner; giving the guards cause to prod you along with whips or riding crops. The whips will be snapped for effect without touching your flesh.  Remember your posture upon entering is an act...to give the clients the impression that you are recently captured slaves. This is acting but the real reason you are here is not ... you are slaves...here for a night of sex; it can be obedient sex or defiant submission in which case you'll be beaten and raped. You will of course need to gauge yourself to sense if the client is turned on by a disobedient slave. So you will be either a totally obedient sex slave, petrified but utterly subservient to your client...or a proud female resisting your owner's advances, hopefully from the syndicate's point of view resulting in multiple painfully colored stripes on your flesh."

The door in front of them opened and several guards in period pirate like costumes took over the group as they stepped out on the deck of a mockup sailing ship. The deck actually rolled as is they were in real water, making it hard to walk. They were led to a skimpy boarding ramp and instructed to hang on to a rope railing with one hand while clutching the iron ball with the other and descend the sagging and swaying ramp. Once they reached solid ground, each slave naturally hesitated to regain her balance; a guard swiftly lashed the riding crop across each slave's ass cheeks resulting in a loud cry's or scream before stumbling ahead, resulting in the next slave being jolted forward by the neck chain. 

The last slave stepping off the ramp screamed loudly from an especially severe lash, probably for effect. A slow musical selection, she recognized from her fathers collection as: March of the Slaves, was booming over a speaker system mixed with the sound of breakers and seagulls. She hung her head closing her eyes at first in the bright lights as she limped along to whatever fate had in store for her. She glanced ahead as a guard lashed her ass when her chain to the slave in front of her tightened. The hall was maybe fifty feet wide with a high vaulted ceiling. On the left side a wooden stage or board walk, ten feet broad and two feet above the floor stretched the length of the hall. The lighting flooded the stage from high on the right side, like a late afternoon sun. 

The backdrop was like a realistic movie set, representing a series of period store fronts Inns and slave auction houses, each with different roof lines. The wall above was painted in sky blue with scattered white clouds and the tops of ship's mast.  Each business was decorated with anchors, fishing net, ships wheels, heavy ropes, beer or vine barrels, mounted fish or paintings of naked women  matching whatever product was being sold, creating an eighteenth century dockside atmosphere. Two gaps in the storefronts and the board walk revealed streets leading to a painted harbor front with views of square rigged sailing ships anchored or sailing in the distance. 

They stumbled along slowly as many slaves resisted; jerking the connecting chains while some guards lashed their asses and others cracked bull whips. They passed by groups of slaves; males, lady-boys, female midgets; then females of all shapes. Every racial background was represented in each group. They were spaced about five feet apart and tethered to iron rings in the board walk. Behind every ten or fifteen slaves, a guard in period costume paced back and forth continually prodding reluctant slaves with the riding crops to turn and display different angles of their bodies. Every thirty feet or so wooden steps led to the board walk. 

When they stopped, the neck chains were disconnected one at the time and each slave was then led or jerked, by the chain up the steps, to a spot behind a number carved on a rough wooden sign at the edge of the board walk matching the ID on her thigh. Many slaves resisted, some spitting at the guards resulting in several lashes.

 She was near the middle of the chain gang and noticed five sets of twins already tethered from a previous chain gang. Each pair was connected with a short chain from their neck collars with the lead chain hanging from a ring in the center. Every twin carried an iron ball but were branded with identical numbers and stood behind one sign.

Once she was tethered and her eyes accustomed to the bright lights high on the opposite wall she realized that the other side was totally different, resembling a two story motel with a broad second story balcony running the length of the hall. The ground level had a door every fifty feet or so and between them three wide mirrors. The second story balcony was crowded with clients, most sitting in comfortable chairs at small tables, drinking and talking. Some were standing at the railing talking to others while pointing at individual slaves, others watched through opera glasses. There were access stairs from the floor to that balcony in three places.

After some prodding she began to pose as she had been shown earlier in the day and wondered why there were no clients at the lower level. Then it struck her that the mirrors were one-way and clients requiring privacy were probably already watching them from the inside. After a while the music was turned down and changed to something out of an eerie scary movie. A voice began calling out slave numbers giving the door number to enter. A guard then led each chosen slave to the designated door returning after a few minutes. 

Some of the slaves resisted being led away and were then prodded by a few whacks of the riding crop or crack of the bull whip. The five sets of female twins, two Asian, two blacks and one white blonde pair, were some of the first to be selected, all to lower level doors. She also noticed that most of the fifteen so midgets were led away early on, to the lower doors.

The strange eerie music seemed to depress her making her feeling sick to the stomach while she trembled with humiliation. She had been naked since she first woke up in the pit. Every slave was naked twenty-four hours a day; only the staff wore clothing but it had become normal to her. Right now however some of the more than a hundred fully clothed and free clients were watching her. They were here for one night or whatever and then they could return to the real world...they were free. She was a permanent sex slave; on display like merchandise in a department store or groceries at a supermarket. The clients were just shoppers choosing an item, paying the cashier and then using what they bought, before carrying on with their lives. She would still be here on display every day, to be sold and consumed over and over again, for as long as her beauty lasted and then what? She trembled again, and nearly threw up. For the first time since being abducted the true hopelessness of her slave status hit her right in the gut. 

The riding crop whacked her out of the reverie and she turned taking a deep breath, presenting another side of her flesh, for the convenience or pleasure of a large crowd of fully clothed sex slave consumers.

The Clients on the balcony made use of paddles she'd seen at auctions with numbers, probably representing their rooms. When ready to select a slave they would hold up the paddle and point at the desired object. A guard would walk to and whack that slave with the riding crop while looking up verifying the choice and then lead the slave, generously assisted by the crop, up the stairs to the clients table handing over the chain and keys for the locks. Some client would then order the slave to stand or kneel by the table, most hanging their heads, others defiantly spitting at the client as they had  the guards; usually resulting in a punch in the gut or slap in the face accompanied by laughter from the surrounding crowd. Most of the clients would leisurely finish their meals and or drinks and in some cases discuss the slave's physical attributes with other clients, pointing to and sometimes fondling various parts of the slaves body. When ready the client or clients would lead or in some cases drag a resisting slave to a door at the rear of the balcony, to the cheering delight of other clients.

Later, clients began to appear on the floor, most mounting the board walk to psychically inspect and fondle slaves before making a selection. They would then gesture at a guard who would unlock the chain from the ring; order the slave to pick up her ball and lead or have the client lead her away always assisted by a few lashes.

She was inspected and groped by probably thirty men and maybe ten women over the next while. Like her cell mate had predicted, they were mostly older men, nearly all Asians. She sensed strong sexual vibes from most of the men, despite their generally macho, sometimes aggressive behavior. Some women, usually with a male partner came across with a snobbish upper class attitude; touching or pinching her as if she had a disease. Other women by themselves or with a male partner were probably lesbians or AC- DC and behaved more like men. Many clients behaved like they were buying livestock, prodding her flesh for muscle tone or checking her teeth. Some would make her bend over, inspecting and in some cases fingering her crotch.

She was almost relieved when finally chosen by a very arrogant, short and fierce looking Oriental male and led to a door by the guard. She thought about the madam's riding crop, that hairy monster Warden and the pit.  Her client was infinitely preferable. She tried to focus and re-enter the hypnotic state she had left the cell block with and wowed to submit totally to this man, no matter what.

Inside the lights were dimmed and she noticed comfortable seating by the one-way mirrors.  There were telephones and stacks of numbered albums on coffee tables; some left open with nude pictures of slaves on one side and an opposite printed page, obviously with that slave's vital statistics. She was wondering how many of the pictures taken in her photo-shot were included. 

At a desk a clerk slave in red shorts wrote her ID under the room number on a black board. Her owner then signed a form with her number on it. The clerk then kissed the client warmly and thanked him for buying a slave; expressing then her sincere wish before kissing him again: that he would be totally satisfied and return in the future to purchase another slave. She was then led to his door; where the guard handed him the keys for her chain locks and left.

Once inside a sweet and very pretty Oriental woman in her mid thirties wearing a robe, grasped her neck chain. Her sweet personality made her feel better as she focused on having sex with her husband. The man who had picked her out, probably fifty-five or older sat down on an easy chair near the bed. The woman unlocked her ball and chain and then spoke softly in poor English. 

"Stand here, show body," she posed like she had on the stage turning exposing every angle of her body while doing a slow bump and grind for maybe ten minutes until he snapped an order to his wife. 

"Come close master for touch, you must like him touch only little scared." she pulled her by the neck chain until she stood between his knees. He sat up and began to fondle her body, sometimes grasping and pinching. She trembled and gasped and then began breathing deeply while moaning. Surprisingly she actually enjoyed his groping hands. The woman touched her back gently at one point prodding her to bend over while he fondled and sucked her breasts. 

Soon he snapped another order to his wife or mistress, who prodded her to turn so he could fondle her ass and thighs. She was then prodded to touch the floor and spread her feet, while he just sat there watching her crotch, occasionally fingering and pulling on her inner labia, squeezing her clit and fingering her rose. She squealed with pleasure each time, astonished that she wasn't acting. Another order after a few minutes and she was pulled by the neck chain to the bed.

"Lie bed slave, spread legs, feel titty and vagina, look master with love." She quickly obeyed while he watched her with a commanding facial expression as she spread her thighs, fingering herself and groped her tits. "Look smiling at master, you afraid a little but love him much." She smiled and not feeling afraid while she tried to tremble. He soon snapped another order while pointing at the wall. "Master not joyful, turn stomach," she picked up a riding crop hanging on the wall and gave her ass five fairly hard lashed. She shrieked in pain and on his orders got five more. "Turn again thank you and love master very many, play with vagina and titty, tell master you very hot feel." 

"Oh thanks you master for beating my ass, I love you very much," strangely she somehow meant it and wondered if she sounded sincere but since he did not speak her language maybe he was satisfied. 

He stood up and the woman removed his clothes and began to play with his penis getting it hard. 

"Ask master love you with penis, very hot to love master.

"Please master I love you very much I really do, please make love to me." She held out her arms, spreading her legs invitingly while smiling desperately. He got on the bed and plunked down hard on top of her sucking on her tits."

"Must make sound good feeling you love like master or get lash on big bum." She landed a light one on her thigh for emphasis. She began to moan twisting her body in anticipation of his cock. He suddenly penetrated her and began fucking while fondling and sucking her tits. Tell master him love good."

"Oh master I love you please love me, oh you do it so well; I'm so hot please love me, please." 

"Him old, not moves fast long, you move big bum, keep say love." She kept telling him that she loved him, switching the image in her minds eyes to the pit and then to her imaginary prince but it wasn't necessary she truly enjoyed this small but muscular man's cock in her cunt. She began to rock her pelvis wildly giving him a bucking horse ride while moaning her love for him and clutching his body with her arms and legs. He started to grunt in short regular bursts while she timed her movement accordingly, until a loud extended groan told her that she had satisfied her first client. He rolled off her body exhausted. 

"You say thank you, honorable master give very good loving to you."

"Oh my honorable master that was the best love I ever had, I love serving my master." He was soon snoring. As she reflected on what she'd just said. How could this be; the man had bought her for the night and she had actually loved him for it?

"Him sleep now, come we do lesbo love now. First I do crop on big white bum, punish you sex husband mine; then lick pussy both after you make massage. You say love very much for me. I like young big white sex slave, have soft body." She moved to the second bed on her stomach and received five fairly hard strokes with the crop. The woman then caressed and kissed her ass gently for a while quietly humming a tune her language, almost as if she was sorry for beating her. "You kiss I now and thank for spank."

 "Thank you madam for beating me I love you very much, may I massage your body now?" The woman stretched out on her stomach and she proceeded to massage every part of her, while she woman continued to hum. She continued to tell her she loved her with every part of the body she touched. When she turned over her eyes were glazed, looking at her as if she was actually in love. She spread her thighs as her hands got there in the end and then suddenly threw her arms around One- eighty-six, kissing her in an amateurish fashion." She returned the kiss, actually teaching the woman how. She responded, surprised for a moment when a tongue entered her mouth. She returned her tongue gingerly at first, then encouraged by One-eight-six's passionate moans, entered into a duel of the tongues. 

"Oh I love young body and hands and kiss on mouth western style, we lick pussy now." She whispered the words breathlessly and then crawled on top in the opposite direction, face down in her bush. It soon became obvious to One-eight-six her that this woman was a lesbian virgin. Her mouth barely touched her vagina, with her tongue sort of picking at her vulva but she began to copy what was happening in her own vagina. She was a now a teacher, licking and kissing and at first getting a minimal response from a student almost twice her age. As the woman began to moan louder from an experienced tongue, her own tongue attempted to duplicated every detail, sucking on the clitoris nipping on the inner lips and eventually penetrated her vagina as she moaned with a prolonged climax. She then turned around, snuggling into her slaves arms, burying her face in the huge breasts of her first lesbian lover. She returned her love, hugging her warmly, feeling totally satisfied herself.   

The husband woke her during the night with the riding crop. For a moment she forgot where she was but soon remembered and turned on the stomach obediently raising and presenting her ass to the crop. She got five hard lashes and was then with sign language commanded to lick his body starting with the feet. She gave him a complete tongue bath ending near his cock; she then proceeded to give him a blow job, resulting in ejaculation after maybe twenty minutes. She swallowed his semen greedily while looking into his eyes demurely. He then turned over and went back to sleep.  

The guard arrived in the morning taking her away while her clients were still sleeping." She was taken to a clinic and given a douche. Her body was checked for bruises and recorded as twenty medium stripes, class two damage.

Next she was led to a room full of small desks with many other slaves filling out forms. The guard explained that she had to fill out the form listing every sex act and the success of each during the night. Also the number of lashes received. The date and her number had been printed on top of the page. She was told to keep in mind that the clients were also asked to submit a report and that they would be compared. When finished she was led to her cell block 

Later after lunch her cell block neighbor spoke with her again.

 "Well how was your first client?

That was really strange despite about twenty lashes; I enjoyed him and his wife, like they were my lovers in the free world. I'm a sex slave forced to perform with anyone who chooses me but I didn't have to imagine a dreamy prince or think about the beast or the pit; so why did I enjoy it, am I crazy?"

"You're not crazy though definitely a nymph' it took me months to get to that point I still use my imagination sometimes."

"I felt pretty bad in the lineup with all those free people ogling me, especially when that eerie music came on. That's when I thought, why doesn't somebody expose this place?"

"The music is designed to depress you it's a physiological trick. As far as exposing this place; the rich don't' kiss and tell; they have too much to loose. This place is perfect for living out their fantasies. Only the stupid poor would expose it, hoping to gain something, money mostly, not justice. There are no minors here; that would blow the cover even with the rich. Also slavery is illegal by law but not in the human spirit. Many poor countries operate shadowy slave markets and I'm sure some of the slaves here were bought outright not abducted like us; my pimp probably sold me for cash. Haven't you ever thought it would be more convenient to buy and sells young studs rather than looking for one night stands on the bar circuit or indeed a relationship."

"Your right there but...but where are we in the world?"

"No one here knows."

 "You mean none of the slaves know?"

"Of course not, we're all drugged and abducted and kept unconscious until waking up stark naked in the pit. Private jets can fly half way around the world in half a day.  We're deep underground somewhere probably below a five star hotel in the tropics. I don't think the warden or the madam even knows. "

"Why how?

"The rumor is that he is a former prize fighter from somewhere in South America who got life in jail for multiple rapes and murder. He was supposed to have been killed in prison but was somehow smuggled out and brought here by whatever syndicate owns this place. You know he's as cruel as he's horny but he's also sharp as a tack, running this place with the efficiency of an assembly line. He has us trained, severely disciplined, exercised, washed, feed and delivered to the clients with all the precision of a finely tuned swizz watch. The madam also had some brush with the law and was brought here as a sex slave working her way up."

"So one of us could take her place someday?"

"Not likely she isn't that old but we will certainly become guards or instructors when we're too old for the lineup, you know when the youthful glow fades."

"They certainly know how to coerce us into submission. So no one here will ever see daylight again?"

"Not for real but every week or so we're packed like sardines into a room with a movable roof; lying there squeezed together turning over when ordered, to get sun for half an hour. Without sun you get sick so it's not sunbathing for your pleasure just a medical precaution. All you can see however is clear sky above and you don't' want to look because you'll go blind.  

"Why the constant bondage, there's no escaping this place so we're not going anywhere. We know we're sex slaves so why drag this ball and chain wearing these neck wrist and ankle braces."

"Well for the clients it's the fantasy of owning and totally dominating a human being. Treating another human as personal property is a huge turn on for some. That's the main reason for the success of this place."

"But what about us, it doesn't make sense. I mean we're only with the client over night, the rest of the time we're still in bondage."

"Um...what to say? I suppose it's physiological, by keeping us in bondage twenty-four-seven they never let us forget we're slaves. We carry this ball around, we sleep chained to it, take it to the bathroom, hose cleanings and classes, all except when wrestling or swimming in the pool and there it's replaced by a long leash. Other than that only the client can remove it. I think it actually helps us to cope with our slave status. If we were only chained when being displayed and or serving the clients and then allowed to dress for the remainder of our time, we might resent the clients using us. It would be like going to work like a whore. 

"Another way of looking at clothing is convenience for the supervisors; any one of them can hold us after class for their personal sexual gratification. Since we're always naked they can pick and choose whatever body they prefer from the class without the bother of having us disrobe. So we're sex slaves full time; available to clients in the evening or for the staff at any other hour day or night. 

"I have been banged in the dentist chair while waiting for the freezing to take effect and by the doctor on the examination table with my feet in the stirrups. All they have to do is fill out a report that we sign and forward it to the mistress. Don't forget every sex act has to be performed with extreme passion or even fanatical enthusiasm or you can suffer severe consequences from the lash or the pit. As a matter of fact they probably get a more honest evaluation of our sexual performance from the staff I'm rambling again, sorry."

"No go on I'm listening." 

"OK then, this way we serve, twenty-four-seven, our time away from the clients is just used to hone our skills and prepare our bodies to serve them and just as importantly the staff. We don't have jobs we're just sex slaves and nothing else. We have no family, no home and no nationality. 
We're merchandise; the syndicate leases our bodies for profit. We're giving no choice so we accept our lot in life. I know after three years here I rarely think about my previous life as a free woman and of course I'm not allowed to. Our days are full since they keep us busy training, meditating or fucking. I don't really think about being a real person anymore, only about performing as expected so I won't get my backside striped too often or spending time in the pits. Even when I'm lashed to tears, I don't think of it being abused of my rights any more. I deserved it because of a mistake or I didn't try hard enough. Then I concentrate on the mistake and work that much harder in order to avoid being lashed again or visit the rats and snakes."

She turned showing her striped multicolored cheeks and thighs "The madam had me lashed today because a client complained about my performance. I failed the syndicate and I got penalized. It's like getting a C-minus in school you deserve it because you failed to do your homework. While I got thirty lashes kissing and caressing the madam, I realized where I made the mistake. I will pay more attention and ask more questions in classes. I will try twice as hard with my next client and maybe get an A. You know, it's been two months since the last time I tasted the madam's riding crop other than some clients, but that's for their pleasure, not because you've made a mistake. I find though that after a couple of months I get inattentive and the madam's crop or a night with the Warden sharpens my desire to give the clients what they're paying for; that is: my optimum performance. I suppose the syndicate knows what they're doing at least with me. OK...I'm rambling again right?

One eight six rolled over on her back and smiled at the cell mate. "No you're not rambling; you've given me a lot to think about." She stared at the ceiling, spreading and raising her arms and legs. "Come one, come all." She lowered her feet back to the mattress as she spoke, raising her ass high opening her thighs wide while finger spreading her inner labia. "Come on right in...my cunt is open all hours to anyone on the planet and I do it for nothing." She chuckled with her words along with some of her cell mates.

"Don't forget your anus and your mouth; they're part of the package."

She flopped down on the mattress closing her eyes wiping a sudden tear. For a moment she had felt amused with her fate, then she choked and a few tears wetted her eyes. "That's right every atom in my body belongs to the syndicate, nothing in it is mine."

"It's much worse than that honey your thoughts and dreams belong to the syndicate as well."

She wiped her tears, "you mean when you wake from a dream it's about sex?"

"After a couple of months here yes. I wake sometimes panting or moaning with my thighs spread, rocking my pelvis; imagining a penis banging me and at times I even climax."

"I think most of us do," another cell mate added sighing audibly.

"Why am I laughing and crying in the same breath?"

"Don't worry honey, we've all been there; emotional turmoil probably helps us preserve a measure of sanity." 

A chorus of nearby cell mates joined in a long wistful, "Amen."  No one spoke for a while until the silence was broken by a guard calling out numbers for classes.

Her first class was erotic massage training. An experienced slave massaged her, after which she attempted to return the favor. An instructor watched her carefully making comments and corrections.
When done she was taken to the female supervisors quarters to practice on her for a few minutes before satisfying her orally. The supervisor did not return the love making but ejaculated three times, promising her a good report.

The next class was an hour of swimming. The ball and chain was removed after first being replaced with a ten foot leash attached to an overhead cable running the length of the pool. There were ten such cables and they were free to swim and rest when they felt like it at the shallow end. She was a fairly good swimmer and loved the workout with hardly any stops. 

 After the swim, the guard brought her into the pool supervisor's office with two other females. He ordered all three to pose for him for a few minutes and then got up necking with each of them, demanding a passionate response. Sitting down again he ordered One-Eight-Six on her knees to fondle his genitals while the other two females were ordered to put on a passionate lesbian sex act for his visual pleasure. After he got semi hard he ordered her to swallow his cock but not to blow yet while he enjoyed the show on the mat. She took in as much as she could, breathing through her nose for maybe ten minutes before he got hard. He finally grasped and jerked her head. 

She looked up at him sucking and blowing vigorously while fondling his balls but his eyes were on the two females who groaned passionately, slurping noisily on each others cunts while they rolled around on the mat slapping each others ass cheeks very hard. She watched the cat fight occasionally out of the corner of her eye and realized that their performance was a show to satisfy a mans lust, not the way caring lesbians made love. He finally blew his load in her mouth, groaning loudly as she exaggerated the sounds of sucking and slurping his semen down her throat for his pleasure.

She was returned to her cell block a little later than most of her cell mates. Everyone would have known why she was late but surprisingly no one paid any attention to her except her friend.

"So what did you do, blow him or put on a show? Her friend smiled knowingly as she spoke.

"I blew him, how did you know?'

"No one is ever late after any class unless providing pleasure for a supervisor. The pool has six one hour classes a day and two or three times students are held over. He always takes three, I've been there many times either blowing or performing aggressive almost violent lesbian sex, it's more like a wrestling match rather than lovemaking. He always has a new slave blowing him so the next time she'll know what kind of performance he expects on the mat. You haven't been to a wrestling class yet; part of that class is very much what you've seen today."

"Wrestling, I've never done that; I'm a lover not a fighter."

"You will be what ever the syndicate demands; you know that by now, don't you?" She nodded sighing deeply.

They went through the regular cleanup and meditation session and waited for the guards to appear calling out slave numbers for the evening lineup and various other sex sessions.


To be continued
