Savage World: Slave Bondage

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by John Savage

If every woman in the world were a vicious, dangerous, man-hating wild animal, what could men do? Keep them in bondage, of course, and use and abuse them as sex slaves, particularly as the rogue virus that had escaped from an experimental laboratory had also heightened their sex drive and genetically mutated their bodies into the most beautiful, sensual creatures imaginable.

It affected all of them, those in captivity and those who lived in the wild kept out of the men’s protected areas by high walls and armed guards. A slip, a mistake, a loose rope or a carelessly fastened chain could be fatal for the man, the Master. No woman could be trusted… except, possibly, just two who had somehow not been infected by the virus. And, surely, it would not be long before their true nature was recognized and the government stepped in to take them and experiment on them…

(Paperback edition originally published 1998)

Published: 10 / 2010         No. words: 35,600EX1t

A friend told him of how it was possible to train a slavegirl. Break her spirit, he had described it. Then train her to be whatever you wanted of a sexual partner. Perhaps the idea was worth a try. It was kind of lonely out on the coast by himself. A slavegirl would never make a friend, but at least he would not have to drive fifty miles for a quick screw.

He pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. It was late afternoon when he exited the car and opened the rear cargo section. A fog bank was forming off the coast and would roll onshore before the sun was fully set. But the sun would shine for a while longer. He stood there looking down at the wooden crate. There was no way of telling, if you did not already know, that there was a living, naked woman inside, a total prisoner and completely helpless.

For a minute he contemplated the plain wooden surface. He had watched the girls being paraded up to the auction block, one naked, perfect body after another. Most glared at the audience, others looked dejected, and some almost looked eager. Perhaps those were the ones who were being sold by some particularly cruel owner and were glad to get away from him.

Cory had just about decided not to buy any when this blonde had come up. There was something different about her look. It took him a while but it came to him; there was a look of intelligence behind those brilliant blue eyes. She had looked nervous, but that was not unusual. These were, after all, captured wild animals. But there was something different about this one. She did not look like a wild beast ready to lash out and kill. He was surprised that no one else seemed to notice the difference. But then, perhaps all they could see was the body. He saw a something different in her eyes and that interested him.

Using a dolly from the garage, he carried the crate into his house and deposited it leaning against the wall in the living room. Then he went for a screwdriver to remove the screws.

At first it seemed as if she were dead. There was no life from the body tightly cocooned in ropes and straps. Her fingers lay lifeless against her ass and he could not detect any breathing. Had the oxygen bottle been bad? Or not full? Reaching down into the box, he ran his fingers over the bottom of one foot. The toes wiggled and the fingers fluttered briefly, then rested again. She was alive; probably just exhausted from the trip. She had been in that crate for over two hours, closer to three.

Cory paused for a while, just looking down at his purchase. Even in this back view, mostly of ropes and straps and skin, she was beautiful. And, somehow, all those restraints upon her body made her even more beautiful. Perhaps it was what must be an intense feeling of helplessness she was feeling, and which Cory was thinking about. Here was this young woman, naked, totally unable to move or talk, and being taken to an unknown fate. She might get a cruel Master who loved to whip his slaves. Or she might have been sold to a brothel were she would spend the youthful years of her life chained to a bed while dozens of men a day used her body as they wished.

His hand reached out and lightly stroked her flank where bare skin showed between some ropes and a strap. It was smooth and alive. And it reminded him of his purpose in buying this slave. He was horny, no question about that. Might as well get her out so he could sample his new property.

There was a pamphlet taped inside the box. He picked it up and took it over to where sunlight came through the large picture window. It was general information put out by the National Slave Standards Board, giving instructions for the care and feeding of slavegirls, and warning him about the dangers of not keeping enough restraints upon his slavegirl. “Slavegirls are not rational, thinking creatures, but rather vicious animals who will rip your throat out should you give them the slightest opportunity. Since the infection of the entire world’s female population by the Savage DNA Virus, all women have reverted to an earlier, much more primitive form of Homo Sapiens. They are highly sexual animals with a strong sex drive, but who also hate men as passionately as they crave sexual satisfaction.

“This is the Battle of the Sexes carried to the ultimate level. And men won! But never underestimate your slave. Keep her in constant restraints sufficient to keep her under total control. This pamphlet will describe the NSSB standards for restraint. It is highly recommended that you purchase only high quality shackles and ropes from NSSB approved distributors. Remember: your restraints fail and the first you’ll hear of it is when your slavegirl slits your throat in the middle of the night!”

Charming, he thought. He tossed the pamphlet on the coffee table. It did not really tell him anything he did not already know. Glancing at the crate with its still unmoving constraints, he went to a closet and brought out a large suitcase. The side clearly announced: “Brighton Basic Slave Control Kit,” and below that, “Approved NSSB Class A Restraints.”

He had purchased the kit the day before, when he made the decision to at least visit the auction. On the left side were half a dozen pairs of Peerless handcuffs. Below that two pairs of legirons with different lengths of chain connecting the metallic cuffs. Next to the shackles was a selection of white cotton rope, the kind that used to be called “clothesline,” in various lengths, all clearly marked on the wrapping. Then came some more coils of rope, this time a little thicker nylon cord. And there were a dozen hanks of thin cord. Cory picked one of the thin ones up. Any woman tied with that would be hurting, he realized. But he had also heard that sometimes it was necessary in order to control a Wild.

He reminded himself that this was no longer a Wild. Captured and brought in behind the Wall, she was now a Slave. Not much difference, especially at the start; they both acted in the same vicious manner. Only after a lot of training and conditioning could a Wild be turned into a domesticated slavegirl. And even then you had to be careful. She might revert or be faking her submission. Some of them were smart enough to do that.

There was a leather collar and a metal one, designed to fit around the slave’s neck. Each had rings attached in front and back so chains or ropes could be linked to them. There were five small boxes labeled “Nipple Clamps” along with a rating: mild, standard, heavy, punishment grade, and extreme. He did not open the packages. He knew what they looked like. It was not uncommon to see them used on a slave in some drama on the TV, or on a slave being walked out in public. He had even seen them on slaves in brothels, apparently placed with the intention of making the slavegirl more docile, punishing her, or making her more attractive to the customer because she was in pain while he used her. Or all of the above.

There was also a riding crop and a short, black leather braided whip. Next to them was a pamphlet labeled “Punishing Your Slavegirl.” He picked it up and fanned through the pages. In addition to text, there were photos showing slavegirls being whipped, with nipple clamps making their features contort with agony, and a whole section on bondage positions that ensured extreme discomfort for the slavegirl simply because she was tied that way. His gaze settled on one photo that caught his eye. It showed a lovely young woman in a position he had not known was possible. Her hands had been tied behind her back, and then her ankles crossed and bound. But then someone had pulled her legs up and forced her feet behind her head. Rope was then tied from the ankles down to the wrists and pulled cruelly tight. It was easy to see from her eyes that she was in agony. The caption under the photo informed that: “This position is also good for sexual intercourse, her sex being spread and exposed for easy access.” Under that, in smaller print, was the caution: “It is not recommended that you leave a slavegirl tied like this for periods longer than four hours. Because of the high strain on the limbs, damage can result, although there have been reported cases of slaves keep this way for days with only sore and stiff muscles resulting.”

Cory tossed the pamphlet back into the box. The idea of keeping a beautiful young woman as a virtual prisoner did appeal to him. He was, after all, a healthy man with the normal desires to control and use a woman’s body. Besides, he did not want to wake up one morning to find his throat had been slit during the night.

He would use the ropes and handcuffs and shackles.

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