Slave Farm

CHAPTER TWO

Acquiring The Farm.

Upon graduation with a Doctoral degree in clinical psychology I set up residence in Ft. Lauderdale, mainly so I could escape the yearly punishment of snow and bitter cold wind of the Northeast and feel instead the warm breezes off the ocean as I walked barefoot in the sands throughout the year. My slave jenny left her studies to attend Me, of course, because the poor child was so enthralled by My beauty and because she was a natural slave whose identity and worth were dependent upon service and value to her Mistress.

I employed jenny as My office girl, apartment maid and cook, as well as for My sexual amusement. Even after several years the girl trembled with uncontrollable excitement at the mere thought of pressing her face between My smooth thighs. Come, lick Me, jenny. Yes, Mistress. Lick, suck, kiss, lick, orgasm after orgasm.

Life was all well and good, but sometimes a little boring for Me, however useful it was having jenny as a slave and however delectable her young flesh was to My touch, the truth of the matter was that I longed to be worshipped and served by lowly male thingies. I needed to express My Female Supremacy over groveling men.

I needed to inflict a world of pain on male beasties, whereas listening to other people’s whiney problems in therapy became a chore. Some who were legitimately in need of psycho pharmaceuticals stirred My compassion and I referred them to medical practitioners. Some were helped by short courses of cognitive therapy. But too many were drama queens who were beyond My help. The Goddess in Me became bored by psychotherapy as a career.

It became evident that I needed a change. My decision to switch to switch careers to Professional Domination turned out to be much more profitable and certainly more erotic for Me. That may sound unbelievable to you. But look, I really get off on dominating male creatures. That is so Hot! As I told you before, controlling male piggies really makes Me wet between My sweet thighs. I did tell you that. Pay attention when I talk to you!

Of course, I brought jenny along as a dungeon slave, but honestly she became less important as I began to feed on My vulnerable client bitches and fed upon their pain and humiliation. Wow! I really came of age when I released that dark urge of sadism that had grown within My teen pussy. I told you about that too. Remember? Or do you need a thrashing to improve your freakin’ memory?

Well, the boys came and went with their sundry fetish needs – spankees, dressers, pain piggies, boot lickers, toe suckers, and all sorts of submissives. It was a veritable parade of lovable perverts, weirdoes, and very needy male things, and I enjoyed almost every one of them. Some came back frequently for repeat sessions or to try new kinks. They became My regulars, even My friends to a certain extent.

Faithful jenny was there when I needed her to help put a boy in bondage, to pull him up in the suspension hoist, or to beat his ass with a fierce, wooden paddle while he washed My leather boots with his tongue. Sometimes, just for My amusement I would order jenny to suck a boy’s cock and bring him to the brink of orgasm before I threw ice cold water into her face. His erection would deflate and fall from her mouth while he cried out from the shock. Business was good and we had a lot of fun.

But I still was not satisfied. I would never really be satisfied until I actually owned a slave with no strings attached. I mean a male slave. Sure, I owned jenny. She was at My beck and call, always eager to pleasure Me. But that wasn’t the same as owning a male beastie I could abuse and torment almost without restraint, one who would suffer the full  Power of My Superiority.

One night while having a casual glass of red wine and musing on the matter, I decided to place an on-line advert for a non consensual slave – a male thing who would surrender his life to My total control. I thought about that for a long while before I acted upon it, and I acted upon it when the evil hunger grew so strong within Me that I could no longer suppress it. I just had to possess a slave with no constraints, as slaves were possessed in ancient Rome, as chattel in medieval Arabia, and yes even as Africans were tragically labored and abused in the West Indies and the Old Confederacy. I needed that kind of slave. Not black necessarily, it wasn’t a racial issue. No, it was a burning desire to have human property of any color, and only a male property would really satisfy My congenital drive for Female Superiority. Like it or not, that was My fetish.

I placed the advertisement on several internet sites: “Seeking slave with substantial financial assets to worship and spoil a fiercely independent Domina. Be prepared to beggar yourself for your Goddess.” Funny thing about wealthy men; they are more perverse and more easily conquered than the middle class. That’s why many women become wealthy, I suspect. I use the term “perverse” with great fondness, because I certainly count Myself among that tribe. So, if you, dear reader, are a pervert, then do not despair. Celebrate your freedom from conventionality. Especially if your freedom is in slavery. All men should be slaves.

I received a number of replies to My summons for slaves. Many respondents were rejected as obviously useless wankers, but a few gems emerged, a few submissive boys who fervently desired to surrender their boring, worthless, rudderless, and miserable lives in exchange for true fulfillment and meaning as beasts of burden under the yoke of a Superior Female. I marked them as candidates to become slaves of My rural Empire, the worker bees in My royal hive!

None were the one I sought, however. I amended the advertisement with this admonishment: “Be prepared to document your financial situation.” The number of replies trickled down to just a few.

Eventually, I found Myself having breakfast and interviewing Sebastian Cuck as a prospective life slave. I know, you don’t believe that is his true name. Google it if you must, all you doubters, but that is his name, or it was before I changed it to “cuckie” during our interview. Poor cuckie was smitten with his new Mistress from the very first cup of coffee. The boy could not take his eyes off Me until I commanded him to lower his gaze to signal his submission and respect for the Superior Woman before him.

He laid a folder upon the table between us. When the waitress arrived, I ordered a full breakfast of eggs, potatoes, toast and coffee for Myself, and a small glass of water with a single unbuttered piece of toast for cuckie. As I enjoyed My breakfast, cuckie kept his eyes downcast at the lone piece of dry toast. When I finished I said to him, “you may take one bite from your toast and one sip of water. Then push it to the side to be cleared.”

I enjoyed a second cup of coffee after the boy’s toast and water were removed. “you may present your financial papers now,” I commanded. He opened the folder and spread the papers before Me, displaying ample assets in equities, cash funds, and properties, including a home with a beach address and a property near the Florida Everglades. “What is this swamp property?”

“It is a ranch house, Mistress, with a stable, several horses and some livestock.”

I found that most exciting indeed, but in a display of sham contempt I swept the folder and its papers off the table and onto the floor. “Get down on your knees, slave, and clean up your mess,” I ordered the stricken boy. “And while you are crawling around down there you may have the privilege of kissing Mistress’s shoes. One kiss on each.”

Other customers in the dinner watched in amusement as the boy crawled under the table, gathered up the strewn papers, and kissed each of My shoes before I gave him permission to resume his seat. “Why have you displayed your wealth to Me?” I asked. “Do you think it will make you any more desirable as a slave? Of course not,” I fibbed. “I don’t give a shit about all your wealth. I only wish to know the depth of your commitment to surrender yourself to My total control, and to serve Me for the rest of your life.”

“May I make my case, Mistress?” I nodded permission for him to proceed. “I am a true believer in Female Supremacy. I lived it all my life with my dear, departed mother. I long for a life relationship of complete slavery. My model is the relationship between Severin and Wanda in Sacher-Masoch’s Venus in Furs”

“Well that ended rather badly for Severin,” I interrupted. “As I recall, Wanda subjected him to cuckoldry with her Russian lover, and the Russian in turn whipped Severin mercilessly before they abandoned him. And that is your model of a relationship?”

“Yes, Mistress,” sebastian replied, “ I aspire to match Severin’s devotion and adoration of Wanda. It has been my life’s dream to feel that deep, fathomless emotion of love for a Superior Woman, regardless of how cruelly She may treat me or how badly it ends for me. I am driven by the search for Sevein’s great passion. Oh, to be Your slave, Mistress. To feel that passion, to sink to the depths of such submission and depravity for You.

All this wealth I have is nothing if my life’s desire is unfulfilled. I beg You, Mistress, take Me as your slave and property.”

I sighed and looked down at the miserable wretch. To make his desperate plea he had fallen to his knees once again in the cafe, unmindful of the amused and perhaps shocked spectators at adjoining tables. “Your desire is self-destructive, severin. It is near suicidal. Why not simply visit My prodomme shop and play at being My slave?” I asked, testing him.

He was almost scornful of My suggestion, but he remained respectful of Me. “I am afraid, Mistress, that synthetic experience will not satisfy my hunger to be owned, to suffer the romantic passion of a true slave for his Mistress. I cannot accept the artificial experience of a visitor to Your dungeon.”

“It will end badly for you,” I reminded him. “With great pleasure I will take all that you have, treat you brutally and without compassion, which is My own fetish and style, and you will become a miserable, broken man.”

“For love of You, Mistress.”

“Perhaps, severin. More likely for your own twisted narcissism upon which I will feed with great appetite. Are you certain you want to crawl down that road to your ruin?”

“Please, Mistress, I beg You. Enslave me. I will give You Power of Attorney over all my affairs and live happily in my misery, however unreasonable that may seem.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he pleaded with Me to take away his freedom. And I would, knowing that in slavery, sebastian cuck would gain freedom from the agony and torment of his unsatisfied need. It never ceases to amaze Me how driven boys are by their internal slavery, by their need to submit and serve a Superior Female. But I have never hesitated to take advantage of their fetish.

When I consented to accept him as My true life slave, the slave kissed My shoes in an orgy of gratitude. He nearly embarrassed Me, although that is really impossible.

After the scene in the coffee shop, we drove off westward from Ft. Lauderdale Beach to inspect My newly acquired property in the Everglades. Later, I would settle in with jenny at the beachfront condo, but first I had to see My slave ranch.