Fantasm, Anal, Ass to mouth, Ass to pussy, Authoritarian, BDSM, Blackmail, Blowjob, Bondage and restriction, Cum Swallowing, Domination/submission, Humiliation, Male / Females, Male Domination, Older Male / Female, Reluctance, Sado-Masochism, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Threesome, Torture, Virginity
A man and his journey into owning two beautiful slaves.
Please note: This is my first story and I am very interested in any criticism. Please comment, pm, send emails if you find any part lacking in my writing style. Also comment/mail if you like what your reading :)
Thanks in advance!
Disclaimer: There is no action in these first chapters. There will be more than enough later, but I want to set up the mood first.
Disclaimer for the stupid: No, don't go out kidnapping and stuff. I don't condone it. It's bad mkay?
Chapter 1) Carpe diem.
It all started in the autumn of my career. I had done quite well for myself, starting a few startups, selling them and keeping stocks in the more successful ones. As I was always able to keep my interests ( IT, chemical engineering and law) at the center of my professional career I was able to build quite a few successful companies. At the age 40 I was rich enough to never think about money again. However, even with all the success I had, I was always missing something. What’s all the money in the world worth if you can’t spend it on anything? Even my hobbies required relatively little to no money. The obvious solution to this problem would be to get a family. But, while I wasn’t opposed to the idea, I never really got around to that. Oh, there was plenty of interest. Why wouldn't there be? I wasn’t the fittest guy in the world, but I was nice, didn’t look too bad, smart and rich. Plenty of interested women, but none of them stuck around. For this I mostly had myself to blame, as I could never really bring myself to trust them fully. Or, to be more specific, I was/am very into BDSM and was always too timid, cowardly and introverted to tell this to my bed partners. So in the end we always kind of drifted apart. Luckily I could always pay some high class escort girl who didn’t mind doing whatever I wanted.
And then it came to me. I had just finished my latest business deal and was wondering why I was still working, I certainly didn’t need to anymore. I had no goal in life. I had nothing to work for, nothing to really accomplish anymore. I needed to vent my existential midlife crisis, so I invited my friend Ray to a bar. I knew Ray from my college years and we had quite a few business ventures together. His life was quite a bit more defined than mine, which made me a little jealous. He had an expensive hobby, a lovely family and a charming wife. He had a goal in life. After having explained the general aimlessness of my life he said:
“Peter, I felt this was a long time a coming. Your entire life you only worked and partied. Never making a long term commitment. Hell, even your companies you sold after a few years. Mind you, you’ve done really well for yourself, but ‘now what?’, right? It’s a difficult question. But rest assured, you’re not the only one struggling with it.”
“Well, what would you suggest then?” I asked.
“I don’t know man. That's up to you to decide. But, why dont you get away for a while, clear your head up, go into mother nature, back to your roots and stuff. Maybe you’ll find it there. You don’t need to work anymore. Your set for life and staying here isn’t really helping you...” He replied.
Ray called a waitress and ordered more whiskey. Just before the waitress turned he asked her: “What would you do if, one day, you came to the conclusion that you had no goal in life anymore?”
She laughed and smiled and replied: “Carpe Diem.”
“You hear that?” said Ray. “The world’s your oyster now!”
We laughed and toasted our whiskey glasses: “Carpe diem!”
Talking with Ray always helped clear my head up. I knew what I had to do now, what I wanted. And what I wanted was a slave.
Chapter 2) Getting there
The talk with Ray really helped me put perspective to things. I had a goal in life again! My very own slave! But what kind of slave? It would have to be very different compared to the escorts I always booked. I get my kicks from being in control, from being able to force a slave girl to do something she doesn’t really want to. And escorts are really bad for that: they are always in control, at least the good ones are, the pretty ones. No, a reluctant, unwilling, beautiful slave was what I was looking for. Once home, the planning began directly.
First I would need a place to keep my slave. Anything in the city would never do. So many eyes and ears everywhere. No, I would need to go to the countryside. Something nice and rural, but also a place without a large sense of community. A place where nobody cared about newcomers or each other really. A place where I could do whatever I pleased. A place without people rushing at my door with sweet welcomes once I moved in. The house should preferably be old, large and with a basement. No better place to discipline a slave than in an old damp cellar! Furthermore, my slave would need to go outside sometimes, both for my entertainment and her health. So the house should be quite a distance from the road with enough shrubs and trees to make the house invisible from the road, or any other vantage point. I obviously didn’t want any trespassers either making a wall around my property a must.
Secondly I obviously would need to find a slave somewhere. But what kind of slave was I looking for? What age? Haircolor? Size? Character? Luckily, this part was easy. I had often fantasized about having a slave and all my ‘fantasy slaves’ had the following in common: Not older than 20, any haircolor, slim with perky breasts and a very pretty face. I didn’t really care about my slaves character. I was mainly interested in some young fuck meat which would reply “Yes Master” to my every request. You don’t need character for that, just discipline. I figured I could always train her character to be something else if I wanted. And where would I find such a prize? I figured there are five different ways of obtaining a slave.
1) I could buy one from a slave trader.
I didn’t really want that. I wanted my slave to be mine from the beginning. Plus, where the hell was I going to find a slave trader?
2) Finding a willing slave through contact ads or something.
I didn’t really want this either as I was really into the non-consensual thing. And a willing slave? no thanks. If the world really is my oyster, i’ll take its pearl.
3) I could find a girl with nowhere else to go. Who would be willing to do anything as long as it was better than where she was now.
Again, I crossed this one off for I was really looking for an unwilling slave. Carpe diem!
4) I could blackmail a girl to do whatever I wanted.
This one sounded fun, but relatively difficult to accomplish. I would first need to find something “blackmailable” and then make sure the target would comply. And abducting after blackmailing isn’t really blackmailing anymore.
5) Abduct or kidnap a girl from somewhere.
I decided this would be the easiest and quickest way to go, if implemented correctly.
The next question I asked myself was: “Where do I kidnap her from?”. As the old chinese proverb goes: “Don’t shit where you eat.”, so I chose a cluster of high schools about 200 km from my place.
Suddenly I realized that, in my enthusiasm, I forgot an important part of the plan: How does one abduct a high school girl? I couldn’t just go drive around grab some girl from the street and drive back again. That was a sure way to get arrested. I would need to train myself, prepare myself. I needed a place to train. I needed my house first. I was slightly disappointed that I had to wait longer before I had the pleasure of slave companionship. But, I told myself, It’s not where you go, it’s how you get there!
Chapter 3) The green house
I told Ray I was following his advice. After a two month search I found the perfect reclusive place for my ‘sabbatical’. The house was perfect. It was about 5 kilometers outside a small village. The entire area was heavily forested. The people living in the village were so poor that they were too busy making ends meet to notice or care about things that didn’t directly involve themselves. It was an old mansion, although Ray called it a ruin. I had to admit, it needed some work. In fact, I was counting on it. I hatched the plan to make some inconspicuous secret slave chambers. But more on that later. The mansion and I had love on first sight. It had everything I was looking for, well almost, everything had been badly maintained. The walls around the property were crumbling everywhere. The gardens had been overrun with everything spiky and unpleasant. And the mansion itself had broken windows, leaking roofs and wood rot everywhere. But it was perfect to me. It had the 19th century style I was looking for. High ceilings, large rooms, a lot of rooms and a fireplace in every room. It had six rooms on the bottom floor and eleven ones on the upper floor. I didn’t really know yet what to do with such amounts of space, but extra space couldn’t hurt. Attached to the house was a large garage with place for three cars. Its outer stone walls were green from all the climbing plants and moss which gave me the idea for its name: The Green House.
After I bought the Green House I immediately scheduled its renovation. I scheduled the renovations around a vacation which ensured a break of at least 4 weeks. During those 4 weeks, using the renovations as a guise, I hired a secondary group of shady, expensive workers to extend the basement to go under the garden. This added around 110 meters squared to the basement. When they were done, the entrance to my ‘secret slave chambers’ was covered up again with the stones the entire basement was made of. I paid them, they never asked questions and left. The rest of the renovations went fine, none of the other workers discovered my secret chambers. I had instructed the renovations be aimed at reducing any kind of maintenance to the building: Strong storm proof windows, isolated walls, central heating, refurbished electronics etc. My goal was to not need any help, paid help that is, in maintaining the building. For, what I was planning, I needed total privacy.
Once my Green House was completed and furnished it was the epitome of the combination between classic 19th century mansion architecture with cutting edge technology. It had the feeling of an old mansion, but all the comfort and pleasure of modern technology. The outer walls were restored and now had barb wire and cameras on them. Those cameras, including the ones in the rest of the house could be watched from a security room in the basement. Every room had some hidden panel somewhere which could log in to the security system. And every room had one or more hidden fisheye cameras and microphones installed. All the doors were equipped with scanning devices which would open the door if somebody with the correct shoulder rfid-chip approached. Very handy if you lost your keys. I think the security installation team thought I was paranoid. I didn’t really care, I just hoped my slave surveillance and containment system would be fool proof.
I had one of the car parking places in the garage changed into a working place. It had almost anything a man would need to make any wooden construction. Woodworking had always been a hobby of mine and I was especially excited to make all kinds of wooden contraptions to test on my slave.
chapter 4) Kidnapping for dummies
With the house completed I could concentrate on training myself in kidnapping a nice highschool girl. I probably should have started earlier, but I was too busy with the house. In any case I figured that I should start with getting fitter and stronger. It wasn’t really easy for me, but after 1.5 months I was able to run 5 km and do 15 pushups. I tried to improve myself further, but figured that this would be a fine baseline for the rest of the things I wanted to practise such as tying knots, some basic martial arts etc.
By far the most interesting thing I did in this period was the female defense course. I found it quite valuable to understand the defensive reflexes of my prey. Normally these are for women only, no men allowed. But I got in by saying: “I’m really interested in experiencing the female perspective of day to day harassment a woman constantly receives.”. This must have been sufficiently feminist as I got in with a class of 15 other women. I thought it quite ironic, to be in a womans defense course while planning to assault a woman. The beginning of the course went over the basics of keeping yourself safe. Never walk home alone, at a bar watch your drink and make sure its not drugged etc. etc. The second half was more interesting: what to do when you were attacked. Things like, running away, blowing your rape whistle calling help. But also some defensive ‘fight’ moves. If your attacker holds you, but your hands are free: claw at his face, hit both his ears with your palms to snap his eardrums and go for the eyes. I was quite surprised at the brutality of these moves. They were clearly only aimed at inflicting maximum pain. It became worse though. If you have your legs free and are wearing high heels try to dig the heel in your attackers shin and then push it down. But the final cringe worthy defensive move was when you have access to your attackers balls: grab them, pinch them, pull them and twist them. Ow, I would not want that. But would probably be ok. I found that in the end all the moves were designed for weak women fighting drunk brutes. As long as I kept my head cool and didn’t allow my prey to move I would be fine and my prey would be mine.
I also took two ‘spy’ course. This was really a lot of fun. There were two different courses: one for surviving a hostile urban environment and the second one for surviving a more rural environment. They were very extensive courses which included everything from driving a get away car, dealing with interrogations and torture, blending in with your environment, slipping away from a guarded area, finding food and water and many other things. The end of each course involved a huge role play where we actually did all these things. It truly was a good practise for my future plans.
In the course of a few months I became an expert at anything kidnapping related. Mind you, I wasn’t a Rambo fighting machine. I was still a little pudgy and probably couldn’t give a normally trained man a good fight. But I didn’t need to be. I just needed to not be seen or noticed by bystanders and kidnap a highschool girl. You don’t need to be strong for that. Nearing the end of my training I got into the habit of stalking and tracking things I encountered in the woods around my house. Sometimes I would be tracking some deer or boar, but it happened quite often that I would follow some man walking through the forest. This was quite thrilling. Some of them would be trapping and check all the rabbit traps they laid out. Others would just be camping with a friend or a son. But some were hunters. They were always paying a lot of attention to their surroundings. Also they were holding a gun. Not getting caught by a camper was thrilling but not getting caught by a hunter had the extra thrill of not getting shot. Obviously, I didn’t track them for days. I made up a little stalking game to hone my skills. If I could get a good close up mug shot of my prey before dusk I won. Otherwise they won. To make this challenge slightly more doable for myself I always brought a good camera with me.
On a sunny saturday in May I was doing one of my tracking practises again. I was tracking a hunter from the village. I had seen him before in town, he was one of the clerks at the local bank. I tracked him the entire morning and nothing interesting happened. I was getting quite bored. He kept to clearings and never paused, making it very difficult for me to circle around and get a good mugshot. I was almost ready to call it a day when it happened. I was just on top of a small hill expecting him to be some 300 meter further when he vanished! He was nowhere to be seen!