Description
by Candace Smith
Sevals is a facility run by women. Its purpose is to train men, unwilling men, who have angered their wives by having affairs or been otherwise disobedient. Once training is complete, the men would be sold as slaves to women who take a delight in inflicting pain and torment.
Sam was having an affair with his secretary, and wakes up naked and chained to a bare cement floor. He soon learns that his wife has signed a contract to sell him to Sevals. Over the following weeks, he is moved through various stages of his painful training. Never without severe discomfort and humiliation, he learns that nothing except pleasing his Mistress is of any importance, and he is gradually prepared for a very special client: The Countess.
Published: 6 / 2010 No. words: 44300
Style: BDSM/Bondage – Content: Moderate – Fem Dom – F/M, Sex Slavery / Training, Strong BDSM
The first thing he noticed was that he was cold. There was almost a numbness creeping into his bones and the surface he was lying on was hard. The dizzying disorientation made it difficult to concentrate, but he realized his arms were stretched out to his sides and he uncurled his fists to brush his finger pads against it. Concrete… yes, I’m pretty sure it’s cement I’m lying on.
Slowly other senses came to life, and he smelled a dank, musty smell that reminded him of a place either long abandoned, or a cave… maybe a cellar. He strained to hear, and he thought he caught the sound of some kind of metal softly banging into something hard enough to emit a slight clanging sound.
The eyes were a different matter. He was sure they were open, yes, I’m blinking, but there was only a dim light that let him see through a dark fog. Gradually, other things began to occur to him, and he tried to raise his hands to rub his eyes to clear them, but they refused to cooperate. No, my muscles are working. My wrists are tied down to something. He pulled with his strong arms, but they barely moved.
He tried to clear his fuzzy mind to think. Have I been in an accident? Is that girl… Julie, something… is she here? Shit, what if Harriet finds out? How long have I been here? Sam did a mental scan of his body. Nothing hurt, but maybe they had given him something for pain. As time passed by, exactly how much time he was not sure, an accident seemed unlikely. He tried to think back to the last thing he remembered. The office and the Phiston contract… Julie laughing with me over the meeting… I called Harriet to tell her I was working late on the completed contract… Julie’s apartment and having sex with her. Did we have sex? He remembered her straddling his lap.
As he became more conscious, several uncomfortable facts about his situation bombarded him and caused the dizzying headache to turn into a painful throb. His ankles had some kind of straps on them that were holding them spread apart and locked in place.
Now fully awake, he became anxious as the full measure of his current status became clearer. He realized he was naked and lying on a concrete floor with his hands and ankles spread and bound, and he could not see. At last he tried to call out, and his voice came out raspy and hoarse.
“Hello? Hello, is anyone there?” God, I’m thirsty. It felt as though the inside of his throat had been scraped with something, and it was swollen and sore.
“Mr. Sturgis, I see that you are awake.” The voice had a slight echo, and he thought it might be coming from a loudspeaker.
He tried to search for the sound with his unfocused eyes, and that was the first indication he had that there was a strap around his neck as well, like some kind of collar. It was hooked to the floor beneath him, and offered minimal movement.
“Where the hell am I?” he demanded, and the voice of authority that usually caused his employees to quake, came out as a feeble croak.
“You are in Section Nine, Training Room Three. Someone will be with you shortly,” the woman’s voice echoed.
He heard the click of some switch, and he guessed that it had been the speaker being turned off. “Hey… hey… what the fuck are you talking about?” He winced at the pain in his throat. “Who the hell are you? I demand you release me, now.” He finally silenced when no further responses echoed a reply and his yelling was hurting so badly that he felt like he was swallowing glass. His eyes seemed to be adjusting, and he was relieved to begin to see a light haze around the edges of the fog.
In a comfortable office in the center of the training hub, a woman ran a French tipped manicured nail down the ridges of her cut crystal rocks glass. The ice clinked as she took a small sip of the single malt. After she looked on the monitor in the corner at the man spread on the floor, and had assured herself it was Samuel’s raspy voice she had heard through the speaker she said, “You guarantee he will not be found?”
