Kirsty and the Slob

   Kirsty and the Slob

  

	Part 1 - Introducing The Slob

	

	In which a chance encounter on the train leads to far reaching
consequences...

	

	The train was hot and crowded and Kirsty was pleased that she had
managed to get a seat even though the June sunshine was beating fiercely though
the window. It was always a minor triumph to avoid the inconvenience of standing
for those first few stations out of London. The little blonde insurance
technician took a Walkman out of her handbag and slipped the headphones over her
ears in order to distance herself from the press of bodies which surrounded her.
For the most part they were the usual mix of city workers, soberly and smartly
dressed if somewhat rumpled by the heat of the day; but the man sitting opposite
was rather different. He was a portly, coarse featured individual, in his late
thirties or early forties with a short sleeved black tee shirt and crew cut grey
hair. A crudely drawn tattoo decorated one pasty pale arm. Rolls of fat were
escaping above the belt of his trousers and a strong cigarette drooped from the
corner of his mouth. His eyes were half shut wells of ignorance, sunk in a slack
jawed face and showing only the thinnest connection to humanity. Kirsty
shuddered inwardly and christened him the Slob. The man turned his gaze away
from the window and gave her a wink which seemed to be full of lewd promises.
Surely she must have imagined it! She blushed with involuntary embarrassment as
the train got underway, trying to avoid his eyes but uncomfortably conscious
that he was still looking her over with interest.

	For once Kirsty wished that she was wearing something more conservative.
Although her attire was perfectly respectable for an office at the beginning of
the 21st century it was subtly sexy in a way that enhanced the appearance of her
attractive young figure. Shiny black high heels and fine black tights displayed
her legs to their best advantage and she was acutely conscious of the fact that
her black nylon skirt was too short to cover her knees. Her thin white blouse
had been moistened by an inevitable hint of perspiration (given the heat of the
day) and she knew that the taut lines of her lacy white bra were visible
beneath. Kirsty wasn't a tease but she was did like to make the most of herself
and enjoyed the attention she received from the men in the office. The stares of
the Slob, however, were far from welcome. There was nothing that she dared
openly object to, although this was a no smoking carriage and the fumes from his
cigarette were annoying several of the other passengers. The man was too
daunting to confront, however, and a collective timidity amongst the commuters
prevented anyone from saying anything. Kirsty shrank under the Slob's lazy
menacing smile, avoiding the knowing look as though she were guilty of some
social faux-pas.

	The train rumbled on over the molten summer tracks and Kirsty made a
deliberate effort to ignore the unpleasant stranger. After all, there was
nothing he could do to her. She shut her eyes to blank him out and turned up the
volume of her Walkman. With any luck he would have left the train before she
opened them again. As the music found it's rhythm she felt better. The stresses
of the day began to seep from her body and the clackerty-clack of the train
soothed her into a light doze. Unconsciously she relaxed in her seat and put her
head back. Soon she was quite unaware of the other occupants of the carriage...

	The Slob continued his frank scrutiny of the pretty passenger. On the
whole he liked what he saw. The young woman was in her early twenties. She had
nice legs and although her bosom could not be described as ample he could sense
that beneath the sheer white blouse and tight lines of her bra, her breasts
would be sweet and tender. He'd been looking for a suitable opportunity for more
than a month and this one was nearly perfect. It was time to see whether or not
the technique would really work.

	The Slob reached into his pocket and flicked a switch on a small
rectangular metal box. The device was a special piece of equipment which had
come into his possession through somewhat nefarious means. It was research
electronics capable of interfering with the normal operation of a radio
cassette. Over the top of the basic signal the machine broadcast its own
subliminal message with sounds operating at barely audible frequencies. And
Kirsty picked them up, her ears and brain absorbing the message whilst her
consciousness remained unaware of the orders filtering deeper and deeper inside
her mind. When she reached to scratch her leg the Slob smiled in secret
satisfaction. The girl was taking the bait! This was the first of the hypnotic
suggestions, a low level itch implanted just below the knee. It was a reflex
action for her to scratch - her brightly pained red nails finally laddering her
tights before the impulse was suppressed. From the compliant pattern of her
behaviour the Slob knew that he had found a perfect subject. Conditions on the
train were ideal for impressing his message. Heat, rhythmic motion and
sleepiness had all combined to induce a suspension of higher mental activity and
the blonde was obviously naturally susceptible. It had taken less than a minute
to successfully induce an initial response. Now he must make the most of the
circumstances to convey his remaining important instructions. The Slob flicked
another switch on his machine and initiated a second phase. Kirsty's programming
had begun...

	Clickerty, clack, clickerty clack, clickerty clack. Under the
intermittent pneumatic hiss of brakes and the higher frequency static of her
tape Kirsty slipped into a deeper and deeper trance. She was dreaming now;
dreaming of a long slow bath. The sunshine warmed her like hot water, floating
her away from the world to a secret place where her lover was waiting. She
smiled unconsciously, thinking of his hands on her shoulders, gripping her
tightly before moving slowly over her body. It was just as it should be. She was
there to please him; there to provide pleasure for his needs. Soon he would use
her - would take her and satisfy himself with her. It was what she wanted. She
wanted to be useful. She knew that she must never disappoint him. He was
stroking her now and she could feel herself getting hotter and stickier - a
pleasing moist excitement was building between her legs. She stirred slightly as
though some subdued part of her mind was rebelling against the gathering flood
of her emotions. But any awareness of place or time had faded under the
onslaught from the Walkman. Instead she knew that she had to listen carefully.
She had to listen for two words. Listen for a man to speak the words. The man
who spoke the words would tell her what to do. He would tell her what she must
do. It would be very wrong to resist him. Very wrong. Her lover insisted that
she obey the man, and what her lover wanted was what she must do...

	Kirsty felt a firm pressure on her shoulder again and the headphones
slipped from her ears. With a momentary flash of confusion the little blonde
shook her head and blinked sharply, waking up with a head full of disturbing
images. The first thing she noticed was that the seat opposite was empty. The
Slob had gone. The second thing she noticed was that he was now sitting in the
seat beside her and his strong left arm was round her shoulder!  She began to
tremble in shock but before she could open her mouth to scream he was bending
his face to her ear, planting a slobbery wet kiss on her cheek and whispering,

	 "You're mine now, sugar pie! All mine!"

	At a level far below the centres of independent thought,  Kirsty
recognised the words of command. Sugar pie. There was nothing she could do to
resist the man who spoke them. She had to obey him now. There was no choice.

	 "Kiss me, sugar pie", he said. "Kiss me like you mean it!"

	The reluctant blonde turned slowly towards him. She was still trembling
in his arms unable to understand what was happening to her. Consciously she
hated this disgusting man but her instincts had been overridden and although she
was still engaged in a silent struggle against his authority it was a losing
battle.

	Now the Slob could study his victim's face in more detail. She was
pretty with a pale complexion, wavy shoulder length hair, a neat little nose and
a small mouth. The Slob enjoyed the hint of fear in the girl's wide blue eyes
which stared back at him like a rabbit caught in car headlights. He detected the
first sign of tears but ignored them, bending forward hungrily to kiss her full
on the mouth. Kirsty felt physically sick at the stench of tobacco and alcohol
on her assailant's breath but when he instructed her to bend her head and kiss
him properly she did as she was told. The Slob pushed his tongue inside the
young woman's mouth to savour the sweetness of her muted gasp of protest. She
was delicious! His left arm had now taken a firm hold and his hand reached up to
grope her breast, applying a little light pressure in a preliminary assessment
of the captive flesh. He wasn't disappointed. Kirsty's mammary glands were
softly yielding but firm enough when squeezed - a tasty morsel for anyone who
claimed them. He let his arm drop down and found the thin metal line of a zip
fastener on the hip of her skirt. Teasing it open just a fraction he loosened
the waist so that he could insinuate his fingers underneath. He kissed her
again, easing his fingers beneath the elastic of her tights and panties and
rubbing his thumb into her sex. Kirsty let out a frantic little moan of protest
and tried to cross her legs to prevent any further violation.

	"Legs down!", the Slob instructed her sternly with a harsh whisper in
her ear. "I want to see what my sugar pie is made of!"

	An elderly couple on the opposite row of the carriage eyed Kirsty and
the Slob with disapproval and to her shame Kirsty felt herself blushing as
though she were the one to have transgressed against public standards of
decency! Worst of all, she felt her body responding against her will. The crude
fingering was arousing her and she began to squirm uncomfortably in her seat.
How could this foul man have done this to her?

	"Come on darling, zip yourself up. This is our station."

	The Slob had taken control now and Kirsty found herself swept up and off
the train before she had any opportunity to prevent it. And of course this
wasn't her station at all; it was a seedy East London suburb and the abode of
The Slob. Once he had her on the platform he indulged himself with another kiss
as the train pulled away. The wench was as good as his! It was time to take her
home.

	The Slob hurried Kirsty out of the station, almost dragging her behind
him so that she stumbled more than once, tottering in her high heels as she
struggled to keep up with him. In truth, despite the spectacular success of his
experiment the Slob wasn't sure how long the conditioning would last. Only five
minutes had elapsed since the young woman had removed the headphones. He
suspected that she might soon begin to recover from the initial hypnotic assault
and her individuality would reassert itself. Before that could happen he needed
to get her somewhere where he could reinforce his domination.

	The streets outside the station were ugly, dirty and intimidating in
their own right. A row of old terraced housing was occupied by a few poor
tenants but many of the windows were boarded up in an attempt to prevent
squatters from colonising the vacant properties. It was obvious that this had
not entirely succeeded. The houses abutted smoke stained factory walls and an
oily garage forecourt which  promised "MOTs while-u-wait" but the faded sign
looked as if it had been painted before the war. Round the corner a short space
of withered brown grass framed three nineteen sixties tower blocks which looked
more like sheds for some sort of human battery farm than decent modern homes.
They loomed over the neighbourhood casting shadows which were somehow
threatening even in the summer heat. A gang of tough looking kids with bikes and
skateboards were kicking a football against a graffiti covered concrete wall in
a half hearted way. Their game seemed to be more of an excuse for fighting and
swearing than anything else. Dogs had fouled the pavements and the grass and a
burnt out car with a "Police Aware" sticker was rusting on the road. It was the
sort of neighbourhood which Kirsty would never have visited before today.

	The Slob hustled his catch part the kids who stopped to stare at them
with aggressive unfocussed adolescent anger.  They entered the lobby of the
nearest tower block where the stink of old urine wafted from the stairwells. The
lift wasn't working so Kirsty was frog marched up five flights of concrete steps
before they reached an apartment where she was unceremoniously shoved inside.

	The place was a tip. Clothes were strewn all over the furniture
including soiled underwear and an assortment of smelly socks. The aroma of stale
cigarette smoke lingered over everything - there was ash on the carpet and the
furniture was marked with multiple burns. Dirty plates on all the free surfaces
were mute evidence that no one had washed up in quite a while. A harsh barking
greeted their arrival and a large black Doberman bounded into the room.

	 "Down Mauler, down boy!", the Slob said gesturing sharply at the
snarling animal. He noticed with some interest how Kirsty quailed in front of
the beast, 'almost', he thought, 'as if she's more scared of Mauler than me'. In
this state Kirsty wasn't really capable of rational thought but her primitive
fear response was still working below the level of his control.

	In the kitchen the Slob filled a glass of water and took a tablet from a
brown bottle by the side of the sink. When dropped into the glass, the white
powdery pill dissolved within thirty seconds. He returned to Kirsty and gave her
the glass.

	"Drink this"

	It wasn't a request it was an order. The Slob knew the importance of
simple commands with no room for interpretation. His authority worked best when
exercised in the most straightforward way. She hesitated for a moment but then
drank the water in five or six anxious little gulps.

	"Good girl", he crooned feeling the beginning of an erection at this new
evidence of his growing power over the pretty blonde. Swallowing that water had
been an extremely serious error on the part of his prey. With the drug in her
system the silly bitch would be so much easier to condition.

	"Now sit down", he said, clearing away a bundle of newspapers and
envelopes from an old leather arm chair. But he had miscalculated the level of
Kirsty's submission by a tiny fraction. When he wasn't facing her directly she
was just starting to find a way to muster her own thoughts. It had started when
he was in the kitchen but a certain residual numbness prevented her from acting
and when he'd returned she'd relapsed for a crucial few seconds. Now though,
something told her that this was her last chance to break free.

	"No! I won't! I won't!", she squeaked as she turned away and ran for the
door. With a heartfelt curse the Slob followed, his heart pounding in his
overweight body. If the bitch got away he'd be in real trouble! She was already
on the stairs! The click of her heels on the concrete was accompanied by a
little sobbing gasp for breath as she did her best to put distance between them.
Her escape attempt might well have worked if it were not for a cruel piece of
luck. On the first landing her heel caught in a piece if iron grating which had
fallen from a vandalised air vent and she went sprawling. Before she'd caught
her breath, she felt the Slob's arms grab her brutally round the waist and she
was hauled to her feet. She managed a single scream and then he turned her round
and delivered a stinging slap across the face which shocked her into silence.
Sobbing more loudly now, the captive was easily reclaimed and marched back to
the apartment. With a quick push she was put in place in the chair and this time
he took no chances, jamming the headphones over her ears and holding her down by
the pressure of his arms on her shoulders. She kicked out and tried to punch him
but it was like trying to fight a mountain of lard. Nothing she did seemed to
have any effect and she was getting so tired, so very very tired... It was
easier just to stop now - to relax like the voice in her head was saying. Her
hands dropped to her side and she closed her eyes.

	The Slob breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the combined effect of
the drug and the tape take hold, visibly smoothing Kirsty's features and
overcoming the last vestiges of resistance. In a rather perverse way her escape
attempt had actually speeded the softening up process as her burst of adrenaline
had helped to pump his drug more quickly through the bloodstream. Now he just
had to wait. The cumulative effect of chemical and auditory inputs were doing
their job very nicely but they needed time to work. This was to be a much more
thorough process of reprogramming than the relatively light snare which was all
that he had been able to manage on the train. This time he didn't have to work
through electronic interference and rely on fortunate and uncontrollable
environmental factors. Now he could pump his messages directly into his victim's
mind, which was not to say that subtlety was no longer required but the
foundations of a more permanent architecture of control could now be laid.

	The Slob ran his hand up Kirsty's leg, savouring the feel of her flesh
beneath the nylon of her tights. She was going to be such a good fuck! He could
take her now if he wanted but patience was called for. Everything would be so
much better when she had been exposed to the full length of the tape.

	"Good things come to those who wait", the Slob told himself, enjoying
the anticipation of a gourmet chef waiting for a delicious recipe to come to the
boil. In the mean time there was work to be done. He returned to the landing to
retrieve the shoe which had been left behind in the struggle; there was no point
in leaving any evidence of the abduction lying around, however tenuous the link.
Back in the apartment Kirsty continued to breath slowly as the tape told her
what to think. The Slob took her handbag and emptied the contents on the table -
keys, credit cards, cosmetics and some loose change. He took a notebook from the
kitchen and began to write down all the details, building up a picture of his
victim's life. All this would be confirmation of the facts he would extract from
her later. Then he poured himself a drink and switched on the TV. Kirsty needed
another hour or so to cook before she was ready for interrogation.

	

	The darts match came to an end and the Slob switched the TV off. It was
time to ask some questions of his pretty blonde prisoner. He began by removing
the headphones, pleased to see that when Kirsty opened her eyes they were glazed
and unfocussed. The Slob decided that it would be more fun to conduct this
session with the girl naked and in any case he wanted to see some more of his
new acquisition.

	 "Stand up", he said, pleased with her instant obedience.

	 "Now strip", he said. "I want all your clothes off. And hurry up about
it I haven't got all day!" His feigned impatience soon had the anxious young
woman fumbling with the buttons of her blouse like a naughty schoolgirl who has
just been told off for not changing quickly enough before a sports lesson. The
Slob was highly amused. The beauty of this technique was that a part of the
subject remained aware of the reality of the situation but was completely
powerless to resist. Blouse, skirt, stockings, bra and panties were quickly
removed and dropped into a black plastic sack which he held out for her.

	'Very nice', the Slob thought as he admired Kirsty's body. Her breasts
were every bit as delightful as he had imagined, topped by pretty pink nipples
in wide pale pearl aureoles. Her belly was smooth and taut and her sex, covered
by a fine down of strawberry blonde hair was pleasingly plump and enticing. She
was trying to cover her body with her hands but it was quite hopeless and she
gave up completely when he ordered her to sit down and rest her arms on the side
of the chair.

	"I have a few questions for you", the Slob said. "You must answer me
truthfully and you must not try to hide anything from me.

	He pressed the record button on a second cassette machine so that he
would have a permanent record of the interview.

	"What is your name?" He knew the answer to this one already as he had
read her driving licence but it was just a warm up question. She replied
instantly.

	"Very good Kirsty. Now your address." Once again the answer rolled off
the girl's tongue and agreed with details he had found on an old letter. So far
so good. The next few questions were also routine, eliciting some background
information which would prove useful later. He determined where she worked, who
she worked with, the names of her friends and the name of her boyfriend. He had
half hoped that she would be unattached but was not at all surprised that a girl
like this had a steady relationship. That would have to change...

	After a while he began to ask some more intimate questions. How often
did she have sex? When was her last orgasm? Did she deliver oral sex to her
boyfriend? What about anal sex?

	The questions obviously embarrassed the girl and she began to blush but
she answered them all eventually and the Slob was happy that she was telling the
truth.

	"Who am I?", he asked at last, aware of her total ignorance of his name
but interested in her answer now that she had reached this state of
consciousness.

	"You are the Slob", she said without hesitation. She had no guile or
sense of social form and so she just came right out with the name that had first
occurred to her. If he had thought that this was a deliberate insult or a
suggestion of defiance her interrogator might have been annoyed, but even though
she was his first subject he understood enough of the process Kirsty was
undergoing to recognise the true nature of her reply and instead he was amused.

	"That's right", he confirmed with a grim smile, deciding to go along
with the name.  "I am the Slob. You will address me as Sir from now on. Do you
understand?"

	"Yes sir", she said. Her voice was soft and subdued.

	 "Now who are you?"

	 "Kirsty Sim...",

	 "No, you are not."

	 He cut her off before she could complete her reply, his voice firm and
uncompromising.

	"You are my fuck toy. You're going to do what I tell you from now on.
And I shall be using that pretty little body of yours to satisfy my appetites.
Do you understand me?"

	The unmitigated cruelty of these brutal words seemed to shock the little
blonde more that anything he had said before and for a crucial few seconds as he
watched her struggling expression the Slob wondered if her had gone too far.
Then she bowed her head in surrender and he knew he had really won.

	The serious business was over. Now it was time to enjoy his prize. He
led the pretty office worker into his bedroom and ordered her to lie face up on
the bed and to spread her legs.

	He took his time undressing, revealing a blubbery mass of badly kept
flesh as he peeled off his top and unfastened his trousers. Kirsty's expression
was a picture - a picture of loathing, apprehension, fear and resignation. But
the Slob didn't mind that; in fact her revulsion excited him. He came over to
her at last and sat on the edge of the bed causing the springs to creak in
protest. The little blonde shivered as he ran his fat hands over her naked body,
squeezing her breasts with speculative amusement and pinching the nipples. One
hand continued to maul the softly yielding cushion of her left mammary as the
other stroked her flat belly and probed between her legs.

	"You'll soon be ready for mounting!", he mocked as his fingers teased
her sex. "I want my little sugar pie wet and eager before I'll ride her."

	Kirsty swallowed with the effort of fighting a useless battle. There was
absolutely no way this pitiful parody of foreplay could be stimulating her and
yet it was! "Sugar pie" was some kind of key trigger and it had completely
bypassed the centres of her conscious control. Without volition she was becoming
helplessly aroused. She groaned softy and pressed her bottom harder into the
mattress in a futile effort to resist.

	"You're just a damp little tramp aren't you?", the Slob grinned. She was
ready now. He straddled her and pushed his still stiffening rod deep inside with
one easy thrust.

	"Nice and tight!", he grunted. He looked in the mirror to savour the
view of his own gross mountain of flesh so obviously in command of the sweetly
supple body pinned below it. Naked and struggling, Kirsty was a marvellous sight
and he lifted himself slightly just to ram into her again.

	"You're one hot bitch!", he said, fucking her harder now and relishing
the sensation.

	 She surrendered to him utterly, her disgust and horror overcome at the
last by his cunning manipulation and the brutal assault on her body. Her hips
jerked in a spasm of release and she gave a tight little gasp of orgasm. At the
same moment The Slob grunted in satisfaction and spent himself inside her. Thick
streams of his sticky white fluid fountained inside the warm tunnel of her
flesh. He breathed deeply, savouring for a long minute the shuddering collapse
of the helpless blonde crushed beneath him. But Kirsty had an important lesson
to learn and she needed to learn it now. When teaching a pet the proper limits
of behaviour the punishment must immediately follow the crime to ensure that a
correct understanding is attained. 'Just so', thought the Slob as he dismounted,
turned an exhausted Kirsty over his lap and without warning or explanation began
to spank her bare bottom. She squealed and tried to kick but he was remorseless
and strong. Soon the blonde's buttocks were flushed with a bright pink rash of
pain and she was reduced to sobbing and squirming feebly against him.

	"Let that be a lesson to you", he said at last. "In future you will only
climax when I give you permission"

	 He pushed her away so that she fell to the floor.

	"Get up you stupid little slut! You've got to clean yourself up before
you can go."

	Kirsty began to sob quietly, but when the Slob delivered a sharp little
kick to the ribs she struggled to her feet and followed him into the bath room.
He ran a cold bath and ordered her in, supervising whilst she ran a sponge over
her shivering body. In fifteen minutes Kirsty was dry and dressed again but
before she could be allowed to go he sat her down under the headphones again for
a final ten minute session. There were some important instructions which had to
be delivered....

	The Slob watched Kirsty walking back to the station from his upstairs
window, her heels clicking on the pavement like the hooves of a nervous gazelle.
She still looked delicious in her smart stockings, skirt and blouse and only the
Slob knew that he'd taken her panties as a minor trophy. Already the young woman
was beginning to forget her experiences in the flat, suppressing the memories he
had told her to lock away; and there were other significant alterations inside
her head. By the time she got home she would only 'remember' a long breakdown on
the train.

	The Slob smiled. Kirsty was perfect - just perfect. And he had only
begun to work with her...

	Part 2 - Maid for Service

	

	In which Kirsty takes a new job and the Slob enjoys the rewards...

	

	Kirsty is dreaming again; one of those long sweaty dreams which have
begun to haunt her nights in the last month. She tosses and turns restlessly in
her bed as she imagines the touch of another caressing her skin and fondling her
body. If only she can learn to do as she is told she knows that everything will
be alright - that she will be granted her release. But she doesn't even know who
touches her. She has been living alone now for more than a fortnight since she
threw Jon out of their flat at the end of a terrible argument. It was all over
nothing really but she felt she had to do it. She couldn't bear to have him near
her anymore.

	And so she lies in bed and dreams about the mysterious "other" and feels
herself cooking over the hot flame of desire. Sooner or later it ends in the
same way. Her hand reaches down between her legs, searching for the damp folds
of her sex, knowing that she must work herself to obtain relief. And then she
wakes with a start and it is as if she has been scalded by a pan of boiling
water. This morning the sensation is particularly powerful and she yelps with
frustration, tossing he head back on the pillow and gasping as her body cools.
There is to be no reprieve from the simmering torture of unquenched needs. It is
time to get ready for the day ahead.

	The flat looks empty today. Almost everything is packed in boxes and
crates ready to be moved into storage. She showers and dries herself down before
dressing; black stockings and suspenders, a tight black mini skirt and a black
cotton blouse. A pair of open toed high heeled sandals completes her attire and
she checks her appearance carefully in the mirror knowing that it is important
that she looks her best. Today she is going for an interview for a new job.

	 In the cabinet by the side of the bed there is a small brown bottle of
pills. Kirsty opens it and takes out the last one, swallowing it quickly. The
pills have become an important part of Kirsty's daily routine since she went on
prescription. She can't quite remember why she is taking them although it must
be something to so with those periods of intermittent mental confusion which she
is now experiencing on a daily basis. Sometimes she forgets things, or just gets
a bit muddled up. It would be so much easier if only there were someone to tell
her what to do. Of course the tapes help. She sits in the last chair and puts on
her headphones, sliding the latest one into the cassette player. Soon her
breathing has slowed and her eyes close as a tide of static and subliminals
floods into her brain. The sound is soothing and pure as it washes her mind;
washes her mind clean of any distracting thoughts...

	The phone rings and she removes the headphones and answers it in a
sleepy daze.

	"Yes... yes... yes sir. I'm ready."

	It is time to leave. She checks her handbag and locks the flat before
hurrying to the train. She doesn't want to be late. It is very important that
she get this job - after all, she has already resigned her previous job and sold
the flat. She has burnt her boats and now she feels a little anxious about the
forthcoming interview - what if she isn't good enough? She knows she has to try
hard to please her new potential employer.

	When she gets off the train at the nasty urban station she doesn't
remember anything of her previous visit. But she doesn't need those memories to
recognise the squalid poverty of the surroundings and to feel an instant
apprehension that tightens her chest. How on earth could she have come for a job
in this place? She doesn't really know but now she is here she does know that
she has to go through with it. She makes her way to the flat and knocks at the
door. The Slob answers with a nasty grin and for a brief second of vertigo she
seems to recognise him. Then the moment passes and he is just a stranger

	"H.. Hello", she manages nervously whilst the insolent man looks her up
and down with ill disguised interest. "I've come about the job. I'd like to be
considered for the position of maid."

	"You're late -  I was expecting you fifteen minutes ago but you'd better
come in then", he finishes brusquely  "I suppose I should see if you are up to
the job."

	As he shuts the door behind her, the Slob is exultant. One slice of hot
totty safely delivered! Kirsty looks so pretty in her smart city clothes he can
hardly wait to undress and ravish her again. And she obviously can't recall her
previous violation. By the time he lets her have those memories again it will be
far too late for her to do anything about them...

	The interview begins. The Slob can sense Kirsty's nervousness in the way
she crosses her legs to reveal a delicious expanse of thigh and swallows
convulsively as he begins his questions.

	"Do you know what this position entails?"

	"Well.. I just thought.. I mean."

	"Don't think", he interrupts sharply. "I do the thinking here. Let me
tell you. If I choose to employ you as my maid I shall expect you to cook and
clean around the flat. You must keep everything spotless and tidy and you must
be available to work at all hours of the day and night. There are no holidays
and there is no free time. Do you understand?"

	"Y.. yes", she answers meekly. She looks around the rooms more than a
little daunted by the prospect of cleaning here. There is rubbish everywhere and
the sink is full of unwashed dishes.

	"Good. You will be expected to wear a uniform which I shall provide for
you. On occasions you will be called upon to perform special services which will
be clearly explained at the time. These are reasonable conditions, do you
agree?"

	"Well, I suppose so, I mean..."

	It seems that she is on the verge of tears but the drugs and the remote
conditioning have been very effective and despite the outrageous nature of his
'terms' Kirsty caves in before the Slob's demands. Of course as yet she had no
idea precisely what those demands will mean but the little blonde has progressed
so far along the road to submission that she doesn't think to question further.

	"Good. Now there is something else you must understand. I require
complete and instant obedience to my orders. Nothing less with be accepted. If I
find that you have failed to fulfil any of my requirements you will be punished.
I do not tolerate careless behaviour and I will accept  no excuses. Do you
understand?"

	"Y.. y.. yes"

	"Good. And now that I have explained what is to be expected of you, you
had better tell me why you think that you are capable of working for me. And
don't bother to lie to me - I know when silly young women are trying to con me."

	The Slob finds Kirsty's pathetic floundering for words highly amusing,
but he doesn't let it continue for too long. In the face of such an absurd
request the young woman's efforts to comply are stimulating her consciousness
and if he isn't careful she might break out of the conditioning. No. It is
enough to see her struggling like playing a fish on a line. The exhaustion alone
will make it that much easier to reel her in. And to continue the process he
stops her thinking again by returning to straightforward question and answer.

	"Alright - that's enough. Let's see if you've prepared yourself
properly."

	The Slob goes through a check list of all the things he has asked Kirsty
to do via the telephone over the last few weeks. Each one was designed to help
extract her from society - to cut out her friends and to prepare her for a new
life as his maid. A maid who will be expected nowhere and missed by no one. A
maid who can be his slave to own and to use exactly as he wants.

	The answers are most satisfactory. The rent is paid up and the lease on
her flat cancelled. Kirsty's bank account had been closed and she counts out all
the cash she has withdrawn and passes it over to him - it is a tidy sum and will
come in useful later for some of the equipment the Slob plans to purchase to
help him control Kirsty more easily.

	"Well everything seems to be in order", he says at last. "You can start
straight away. And to begin with I want to introduce you to a friend of mine."

	The Slob goes over to a cupboard by the window and returns with a thin
bamboo rod which he twirls between his fingers like a grotesque parody of a
bloated cheerleader.

	"This is my friend Michael. Michael Cane, geddit?"

	He grins nastily.

	"You need to find out what Michael will do to you if you are naughty.
Let's call this a little lesson, shall we? Stand up and bend over. Now!"

	Kirsty gets to her feet and cowed by the authority of her new boss is
soon touching her toes (or as close as she can manage in her heels).

	"You'll have to take some exercise to make your limbs more supple", the
man complains in muttered undertones although in truth he is very pleased with
the speed and lack of hesitation in Kirsty's response. He walks up to his prey
and runs his hand up the back of her legs, suddenly yanking her skirt up to
reveal her bottom. A thin pair of lacy black panties cover her for only a few
moments more before they are pulled down to her knees. Kirsty's bare bottom is
every bit as interesting as he remembered and today it will suffer a more severe
punishment than the simple spanking he delivered the first time round. He
swishes 'Michael' through the air for a two or three experimental strokes
enjoying the way Kirsty's buttocks clench and relax in involuntarily
anticipation. She is terrified and trembling and cannot see why she has found
herself in this awful predicament. But to disobey this horrible man is somehow
unthinkable - she just has to let him chastise her. And perhaps in truth, she
does deserve it. She was late for the interview after all.

	The first blow catches her unawares as she is reviewing her guilt. It
lands full across the widest part of her bottom and makes her squeal in anguish.

	"Quiet bitch!", the Slob says and Kirsty is reduced to a soft sobbing as
he delivers another five strokes, each one creating a bright red line of agony
across the girl's soft bottom. She will remember this punishment for some time
to come, that is for certain! When he has finished he walks over to admire his
handy work. Caressing the freshly beaten flesh he traces the lines made by the
cane making the girl quiver convulsively. And then he moves on. His hand probes
between her thighs and finds the hot well of her sex. To his immense
satisfaction it is moist with shame and stimulation. A little gasp of mingled
anguish and embarrassment interrupts the low whimpering commentary of her
humiliation. It is precisely this effect that that he is looking for and has
been seeking to produce. The tapes, the drugs and the hypnosis which have been
self administered  under the guidance of his telephone instructions have all
worked most effectively to bring the lovely blonde to this desperate plight.
Denied any sexual release since the first moment when the Slob took his pleasure
with her she has been kept in a state of building frustration and taught to
expect punishment. Now she will learn to associate pain and pleasure, but more
importantly to associate obedience and pleasure. He can't wait any longer and
frees his swelling organ from his underpants.

	"Spread your legs a little now", he tells the blonde, and when she tries
to straighten up, forcibly bends her over again so that her bottom is displayed
to its best advantage. He enters her easily, relishing the sensation of her
tight tunnel clasping his member with an involuntary spasm of pleasure. His
hands grasp her hips and he pumps in and out, making her gasp in unwanted
gratification. Then at the last moment, he utters the fateful words...

	"You're a damn good poke Sugar pie!"

	When she hears the key phrase, first implanted in her brain via her own
Walkman on the train so long ago, it all suddenly floods back. Sugar pie...

	 In a rush, Kirsty's memories return. She recalls all the lurid and
horrible details of the Slob's first conquest of her body. She realises exactly
how he has continued his manipulation of her and how he has brought her to this
dreadful state where she is without friends or allies and quite at his mercy.
For a brief moment the veil cast by the drugs and the hypnosis is torn aside and
she screams. Then the Slob comes - spending deep inside his pretty blonde victim
and bringing her to a simultaneous orgasm of mind shattering power. And when it
is over the young woman slumps in surrender, understanding for the first time
that this disgusting man has now gained complete control over both her body and
her mind. All that is left to her now, is to speculate in fear as to what
exactly he plans to do with them...

	Part 3 - Kirsty Entertains

	

	In which Kirsty makes the intimate acquaintance of some new abusers...

	

	The Slob's father was a man generally known as Mack. He was a chain
smoking scruff in his early sixties with a stubble of a beard and an attitude
and physique that was as hard as nails. Unlike his son, he was thin and
muscular. Years of working on road gangs had toughened him up and he retained a
distinct Scottish accent despite his move from Glasgow to London more than forty
years before. His arms were tanned a sort of nicotine brown and covered with
amorphous green tattoos.

	Mack popped in to see his son, a week after Kirsty's capture. The Slob
let him into the flat and made no comment as his eyes were inevitably drawn to
Kirsty were she stood at the sink doing the washing up. Dressed in a French
maid's uniform the little blonde was a marvellously erotic sight and the  Slob
couldn't resist a smirk as he saw expressions of surprise, lust and slow envy
creep across his father's face.

	"This yer new girl friend", Mack said as he took a seat.

	"She should be so lucky!", the Slob said gleefully. "Nah, she's just my
maid. Kirsty! Make us both a cup of tea will you?"

	The Slob was a study in casual disinterest as Kirsty scuttled to boil
the kettle and fill the teapot. He did not fail to notice the way that Mack
ogled the anxious young blonde. Soon Kirsty had set a plate of biscuits in front
of the men and poured them tea. The Slob clicked his fingers which was a signal
for the maid to wait by his chair with her hands behind her back. Kirsty's skirt
was remarkably short and her stockinged legs were on full view and easily
accessible to her master - a fact which he now took advantage of. With a twinkle
in his eye the fat man ran his hand up and down Kirsty's left leg, making Mack
stop and stare openly.

	"I thought you said she wasn't your girlfriend?", he said glancing up at
Kirsty's downcast face. A delightful pink blush had spread over her face. The
young woman was plainly embarrassed by the Slob's attentions, although of course
it was nothing she had not experienced before. But never yet in front of anyone
else.

	"She isn't", the Slob laughed. "She's just a maid. She cooks and cleans
and makes my bed. But that isn't the extent of her duties. You see I've found
other uses for her body and they are part of her conditions of employment. Very
enjoyable they are too!"

	"She fucks like a bunny rabbit on heat don't you Kirsty?", the Slob
gloated.

	"You mean she's just a silly little tart you've picked up somewhere?",
Mack said.

	"She's no such thing!", the Slob answered angrily, squeezing Kirsty's
leg hard. "A tart only opens her legs for money. Kirsty spreads herself whenever
I tell her too and no questions asked! And she doesn't have any ideas about
money! No, sir! For Kirsty, accommodating my cock inside her sweet flesh is all
part of the job and she does it whether she wants to or not."

	Mack was grinning openly now. He didn't know how his son had done it but
this lovely blonde woman seemed to be in thrall to the overweight monster who
was now so openly pawing her body. He ventured another question.

	"So she does everything you tell her, eh?"

	"That's right!"

	"Then I suppose she'd give me a ride if you told her to?"

	The Slob laughed at this father's ingenuity, highly amused at the turn
of the conversation.

	"Of course", he said. "Take her into the bedroom and give her a stuffing
if you want."

	He turned to Kirsty. The blonde was trembling noticeably and trying to
avoid his gaze but she knew that she had to do as she was told. The prospect of
being passed from the Slob to his father as though she were no more than a toy
was one which horrified her.

	"You'd better do exactly what my Dad tells you to", the Slob said. "If
he isn't completely satisfied with you then my friend Michael will be paying a
half a dozen visits to your bottom!"

	He chuckled as Kirsty whimpered in fear.

	"Come on then wench!", Mack said, suddenly grabbing her hand and
dragging her away from his son. "Let's see if you're as good as my boy thinks
you are!"

	 Soon Kirsty was lying on the bed with her legs apart and her dress
hitched up about her waist. Mack was amused to find that she worse no panties
and he felt no need for her to undress further. So the helpless young blonde was
fucked by the cruel old man, still wearing her French Maid's uniform. Mack
enjoyed the encounter enormously and didn't care that Kirsty seemed to be
fighting an enormous internal battle to resist him. The important point was that
she lost that battle whenever he so much as raised his voice. She was sweet,
submissive and very accommodating. After a vigorous pumping in which he gave her
a full dose of his spunk, he had the girl undress so he could fondle her breasts
and touch her up before ordering her to lick his cock clean. Mack had no
complaints when he returned to the living room. In fact he had made up his mind
to visit more often and take regular advantage of his son's hospitality....

	

	The Slob didn't have a job - or at least he didn't have the sort of job
which could be declared to the Inland Revenue. But he did make money in a number
of dubious ways. In fact his main source of income came from handling stolen
goods and selling them on to a variety of contacts. He was a fence, and it was
in this capacity that had come across the instruments he had used so
successfully to enslave Kirsty. One of the many small time petty crooks who
provided him with hot property had 'lifted' the hypnotic toolkit as part of his
haul from breaking into a Volvo in a badly secured multi-storey car park. The
young criminal wasn't particularly smart and had no idea what he'd taken. The
Slob, however, found the equipment and the accompanying documentation
fascinating. He didn't know who was producing this kind of experimental material
although there were clues suggesting secret government sources.  As far as the
Slob was concerned the important thing was that they had no way to trace the
theft to him and that he could perform his own experiments...

	Two weeks had elapsed since Kirsty moved into the Slob's flat and began
to serve as his slave. In that time she had learned a lot about his requirements
and special preferences; much of her knowledge reinforced by frequent bare
bottom spankings and an occasional dose of the cane. She quickly grew accustomed
to washing, cleaning and cooking, always wearing her French maid's outfit, but
she still hated the more intimate sexual duties which her owner compelled her to
perform. The Slob didn't care about that. He was delighted with Kirsty's
acquiescence and enjoyed every aspect of his new property.

	One Monday evening the Slob invited a few of his friends round to watch
a West Ham game on satellite. They were a motley crew; all of them twisted
mentally and in some cases physically to match. There was Mack, of course, who
was intrigued to see how the others would react to Kirsty. Ricky was a young
'enforcer'. A nasty piece of work with a crew cut and a bad attitude. Larry was
a used car salesman with greasy skin and a greasy attitude. Even his legitimate
business was a form of robbery and he wasn't averse to a little criminal
activity on the side. The Slob got on very well with him. And finally there was
'big Tony', a very unsavoury specimen indeed...

	"This your new piece of stuff?", Ricky asked with the apparent casual
interest that might normally apply to discussions about a motor car or some
other inanimate object. The Slob had told all his guests about Kirsty and in
truth they were fascinated by the concept of controlling an unwilling young
woman so completely. But none of them wanted to give him the satisfaction of
open envy and so everyone pretended it was an everyday situation.

	Kirsty was a very alluring sight in black stockings with a ridiculously
short dress and impractical high heels. She stood nervously in the corner,
certain that this would be a very unpleasant occasion. The Slob had told her
that he expected her to obey his friends just as if he were giving the orders
himself and she was dreading the possibilities. Perhaps however - and here she
clung to hope before reason - perhaps they would do no more than letch. Perhaps
they wouldn't dare to molest her. It was bad enough that she had become the
Slob's plaything but the humiliation of this public confirmation of her role was
too much to bare. She bit her lip and fought not to cry.

	"Nice legs but her tits are on the small side", the young thug
continued. "Still not a bad little looker I'll grant you that."

	"She's got the place into shape", Tony commented with approval. Tony was
even more gross than the Slob - an habitue of the dog tracks and an inveterate
liar. Still, his statement this time was true. The grotty mess that was the
usual state of the flat had been transformed into something remarkably tidy and
clean. The fat man grinned and flicked his cigarette ash onto the carpet.

	"Well", he said with malicious glee. "Clean it up girl - it's what
you're here for isn't it?"

	Kirsty scurried to get a dust pan and brush, crawling on all fours to
sweep the ash away. Her dress rode up and presented the onlookers with a perfect
view of her suspenders and knickerless bottom.

	"She's a shameless little trollop isn't she?", one of the men muttered.

	Kirsty wanted to object - to deny the men their contemptuous opinions.
"I'm not! I'm not! It's the Slob - he keeps me like this!", she shouted inside
but of course she daren't give voice to any such compliant aloud. Instead,
meekly, she just cleaned the floor and waited for the next set of instructions.

	When the football match started, Kirsty was ordered to wait on the men,
bringing them drinks and snacks and performing any menial task which amused
them. She was groped continuously, her thighs and buttocks, stroked squeezed and
pinched as she strove to please them.

	At one point, after she'd brought 'big Tony' an ice cold larger, he made
her sit on his lap as he eased her right breast out of her dress. Using the can
like a rolling pin he squashed the soft flesh repeatedly against her chest to
the extent that the pressure and the cold combined to produce a painful mixture
of unbearable stimulation. Kirsty had squirmed desperately in an effort to avoid
the worst effects, whimpering like a dumb animal but it was to no avail. The
cruel treatment continued until her tormentor ran his thumb over her nipple and
finding it hardened by his abuse, pinched it sharply before pushing her away
with a evil chuckle.

	Unfortunately for Kirsty, Bradford City scored a late goal in the last
minute, condemning West Ham to defeat and putting all the Slob's guests into a
foul mood. 'Ah well', the Slob thought, 'there's always the post match
entertainment'.

	

	"Well then", Larry said as the TV was switched off. "Why don't we see if
your silly little wench has any use apart from keeping your house clean? How
about you get your kit off for us then girlie? Time we saw what you're made of."

	Kirsty swallowed nervously. It was the moment she had been dreading but
there would be no escape. All eyes were on her now as she slowly removed her
clothing.

	"Hands together and put them behind your head", the Slob ordered sharply
after she had folded her dress over the chair, placed her shoes under the table
and carefully peeled off her stockings. "Chin up and turn round slowly so my
friends can all get a good look at you!"

	

	A succession of crude comments followed and then the demand that made
her stomach drop to a new low and begin to churn with anxiety.

	"OK, Kirsty, I want to see you play with yourself for my friends now.
And do it good - like you mean it or I'll put you over my knee and spank you!
Start with your tits. Give 'em a good squeeze!"

	To the intense interest of the men, the submissive blonde reached up and
began to manipulate the soft mounds of her sensitive young breasts, squashing
and kneading them between her fingers.  The girl's wide blue eyes were blank
with anxiety and her skin was pale.

	"Harder!", the Slob ordered, "and start on your cunt now!"

	Tentatively the fingers of her left hand went down to her sex whilst her
other hand continued it's rhythmic pressure on her mammary glands..

	"Poke 'em in there and work 'em round!", one of the men said crudely to
raucous laughs. It was hopeless. Kirsty felt like crying and her face began to
screw up. She was so ashamed and she had seldom felt less aroused since falling
under the thrall of her cruel captor. This disgraceful exhibition brought home
to her the true depth of her humiliation.

	But she could still do nothing about it. Her fingers opened the lips
between her legs and began to push against the sensitive nub of her clitoris
with hopeless desperation.

	The Slob watched amused for a while then impatiently he said, "Would it
be better if I told you to do it for me Sugar Pie".

	That was all she needed. The key words pushed her well programmed mind
into the smooth and narrow track for which she was now so well prepared. Kirsty
gave a little gasp and felt herself heating up. The girl's nipples were like
bright pink berries, swollen and sore as they pulsed with a new arousal. Her
hips wriggled in sudden excitement and her sex moistened.

	"That's better", Ricky said, satisfied. The men watched in fascination
for some minutes as the increasingly frustrated little blonde played with
herself and tried to achieve a climax. She couldn't of course. The Slob's
programming has been highly effective in blocking even this  form of release
from Kirsty's terrible mental bondage. An orgasm was only permitted with his
specific permission and this time he withheld it, enjoying the sight of her
juicing and cooking before his friends...

	To alleviate her increasing distress, Kirsty found herself applying
increasing pressure to her breasts, pulling, squeezing and even pinching the
elastic flesh until it ached beneath her - the self inflicted pain acting as a
distraction from her desperate need.

	"I think she needs a bit of help", Tony said. "This'll finish her!"

	The Slob grinned. His bald friend was waving around an empty brown beer
bottle. "Go ahead", he said and then more loudly to Kirsty, "Open yer legs for
the gentleman, bitch. He's gonna stick something in yer twat that'll sort you
out proper!"

	Kirsty's face was bright red with embarrassment and discomfort as she
walked over to the horrid man and let him do as he wanted. The neck of the
bottle was pushed into her most intimate portal and thrust crudely back and
forth.

	"You can come now", the Slob said at last, and to her intense shame
Kirsty did.

	It was only the prelude to a general orgy in which every one of the
Slob's friends took their pleasure with the blonde girl's submissive young body.
In the course of the next hour the woman was spared no humiliation which might
conceivably satisfy the lusts of her captor's friends. Brought to the point of
orgasm on numerous occasions she was only allowed to achieve a climax by begging
for it, humbly and sincerely. The Slob led the way in breaching the sensitive
entrance to Kirsty's beautiful little bottom - a form of sexual assault from
which he had hitherto refrained. Today, though, no holds were barred. After a
sound spanking, he forced her buttocks apart and lubricated the area round her
anguished sphincter with a jar of Vaseline. The girl's buttocks convulsed with
reflexive resistance, but to no avail as he rolled on top and plugged his
triumphant organ inside. The warmth of the freshly punished flesh leant extra
pleasure to the cruel fat man as he pumped his seed inside her. Then she was
passed round to the others and her body worked over and well used.

	

	The Slob was very pleased with the result of his party. When the men
finally left, he thanked them for coming and instructed his maid to kiss each
one of her grinning assailants for the final time. Kirsty had been a real
success. Remembering the moment when he had first laid eyes on the sweet little
blonde the Slob felt a warm glow of achievement, secure in the knowledge that
all his plans for the unfortunate young insurance technician had born fruit. The
complete transformation from pretty and demure office worker to desperate and
powerless sex slave had taken less than two months. Now she was his to enjoy,
again and again, whenever he wanted... 

	Part 4 - An Unexpected Bonus

	

	How an unanticipated problem is turned into a delightful opportunity...

	

	The phone rang on a Wednesday evening when the Slob was training Kirsty
in the finer points of oral sex. Under his close instruction she was learning
exactly how to apply her tongue to the length of his shaft, kneeling between his
legs as he ran his hands through her hair. Kirsty hated the ripe taste of her
cruel owner. She tried to break away at the first ringing tone but the Slob saw
no reason why she should not continue and with gentle but firm pressure, bent
her head back to the task.

	The young woman at the other end of the line addressed him by name
although he had no idea who she was. At first the Slob assumed that the call was
some sort of sales pitch and expected a follow up script about double glazing or
financial services. But then she mentioned Kirsty...

	Although she couldn't really overhear the conversation Kirsty could
sense an immediate increase in tension. The Slob's hand tightened round the back
of her neck and she began to tremble, her sweet little tongue lapping with
increasing nervous frequency around the base of his cock.

	No one was supposed to know where Kirsty was - or to care. That had been
the whole point of the weeks leading up to her final capture. Now some girl who
claimed to be an old friend had traced her here. The Slob was furious with
Kirsty! The stupid slut had compromised his whole plan. He listened carefully as
the young woman (who introduced herself as Suzanne) explained how Kirsty had
gone missing and she was worried about her friend's whereabouts. She'd found his
number by ringing 1471 on Kirsty's phone, identifying the last number to call
her. Did he know anything about her?

	The Slob thought fast. It would be easier to say no and deny everything
rather than to make up some implausible story but perhaps simple stonewalling
would seem peculiar. Whatever he did there was a chance that he would be
discovered and his lovely captive liberated. It would be better, he thought, if
he could find out just how much Suzanne knew - who she had told and whether
there was a real problem. He needed to tease out some more information and
perhaps there was a way to allay any outside suspicion.

	A plan was beginning to form. The Slob cleared his throat and launched
into a quickly but carefully constructed lie...

	Suzanne rang off at the same moment that the Slob spattered his sperm
into her missing friend's mouth. When he climaxed Kirsty had to fight hard not
to gag on the hot salty taste of her owner's anger which seemed to flavour his
sperm as it flooded her throat. She swallowed convulsively with desperate little
gulps knowing that it would only inflame him further if she allowed a drop to
escape. The Slob was very strict about that. He let her finish, trembling in
terror before he picked her up bodily and bent her over the table. Not a word
was said as he took the cane and thrashed her soundly - a severe beating in
which his clear rage reduced Kirsty to the most abject depths of anguished
suffering. With her bottom still red and raw he buggered her brutally. Only
afterwards did he let the sobbing girl subside.

	"Now Kirsty", he said. "You're going to tell me all about your friend
Suzanne..."

	

	Kirsty and the Slob arrived at the Pizza restaurant just after midday.
Under the Slob's precise guidance Kirsty had called her old friend and arranged
to meet her for lunch. It was to be a carefully monitored meeting; the Slob had
instructed Kirsty in what she was to say, what she was to ask and how she was to
react. Long extended sessions of tape conditioning had reinforced the complex
commands but even so the Slob was well aware that what he was asking pushed the
limits of the whole conditioning process. So far all that had been required of
Kirsty  was that she follow a simple series of unyielding demands without
question. Since she had moved in as his maid he had been there to reinforce his
orders in person and had made good progress in his longer term objective of
permanently remodelling the blonde's personality into something much more
convenient and easier to control. In this case, though, Kirtsy had to be allowed
to use her intelligence to respond to the unpredictable aspects of conversation.
It would be a severe test of the mechanism of control and of just how far Kirsty
had come. Frankly, the Slob was worried Kirsty wouldn't be at all convincing. He
even thought there was a small risk that she would break out and make a bolt for
freedom. That was why he had come with her and now sat at a table close enough
to overhear anything she said. They had arrived ten minutes before the time
arranged with Suzanne so that the new arrival would be forced to sit on the
table where Kirsty had already taken her seat.

	Kirsty fidgeted anxiously but she was able to give her order to the
waitress. Dressed in the same outfit in which she had been abducted she was
looking smart and sexy. The Slob didn't want Suzanne to get the impression that
Kirsty was unhappy. In fact Kirsty found that her clothes felt very strange. For
the last two weeks she had been kept naked and had grown used to it. Clothes
seemed unnatural; hot and itchy. And too there was the fact that having been
isolated for so long with only the Slob for company she had developed the
beginnings of agoraphobia. Crowds of strange people now frightened her a little.
She was becoming accustomed to isolation.

	Suzanne proved to be a compact little blonde in her early twenties, well
dressed in shiny black high heels, sheer black stockings and a knee length black
skirt, split at the front to alternately reveal and conceal an intriguing slice
of nicely rounded inner thigh as she crossed the restaurant towards them. Under
her silk cream blouse she was nicely stacked with an altogether fuller figure
than her taller friend. The bare skin on her arms was very white but there was a
suggestion of a natural apple red in her cheeks which the Slob found quite
appealing. Her hair, cut in a pageboy style, was the palest of blondes, fine
beautifully combed and straight. In fact, attractive as Kirsty was, Suzanne was
a complete knockout.

	The Slob felt a stirring in his trousers accompanied by an unvoiced
thought of lustful regret.

	

	Shame it wasn't you I met on the train, bitch! I could have put that
tasty body to very good use indeed.

	

	To begin with, the reunion didn't get off to a very good start. Kirsty
was halting in her welcome, looking confused and remote as though she were on
drugs. And of course she was but only the Slob knew that the drugs were merely
part of a much more sinister treatment. Nevertheless he was disappointed that
Kirsty couldn't put on a better act and his initial apprehension began to turn
to worry. The Slob vowed that if he escaped from this situation and retained
control of Kirsty she would suffer for her performance. It was, of course,
typical of his cruel irrationality to blame his victim. Fortunately for him
Kirsty did at least stick to her script. She told Suzanne that she was happy to
have split with Jon, that she was enjoying her new job and found it more
convenient to live closer to London.

	The Slob ordered another drink and coughed. This was a prearranged
signal for Kirsty to move on to the next stage. She was to enquire after her
friend in an attempt to redirect the conversation from any awkward questions.
Somewhat to the Slob's surprise the tactic seemed to work. Suzanne hadn't just
come to gossip - she had news of her own to impart and she also had a proposal
to make.

	"You're not the only one to make a break", Suzanne said. "I've given up
on Steve and I'm packing in work. I'm going to take six months off. I'm going to
travel the world!"

	The excited young woman explained to her friend how she had become bored
with her job and needed to 'get some perspective' on her life.

	As he listened the Slob became intrigued. But the punch line was yet to
come.

	"Would you like to come with me?", Suzanne asked Kirsty. "You see, when
you split with Jon, that was what made me think of the trip. And I thought you
might like to join me. It'd be fun!"

	"W.. well, I don't know. I'd have to think about it and get back to
you."

	The Slob was pleased with Kirsty's response. She had been instructed not
to commit herself to any future arrangement.

	"Look, I'll leave you a couple of brochures and this sheet of paper
which is a copy of the plans I've made so far. Have a think about it, please?"

	"Oh, well, OK, I suppose...."

	The Slob's mind switched into overdrive. Until this precise moment he
had seen Suzanne as an irritating and potentially dangerous nuisance. All of a
sudden new possibilities began to occur to him. It wasn't going to be easy but
perhaps there was a way to turn the situation to his advantage...

	Part 5 - Taking Two Birds In Hand

	

	What's better than a bird in the hand? Two, of course...

	

	Rita McGiven was a brassy and sharp eyed middle aged woman in her early
forties. When she was younger she had made her living 'on the game' and she
retained a well toned and muscular body which many men still found attractive.
But there had always been something hard nosed and calculating about her
prostitution - more so even than the usual run of whores in the East End. In
fact, Rita had brazened out more than one encounter with the police and the
criminal fraternity. She was never part of any pimp's stable, running her own
body like a business in which she took all the profits. And as she grew older
she saw the opportunities available in running others for her own profit, moving
seamlessly into a career as a madam. Pimping for other women was easy for her.
She had drawn several relatively innocent girls into her web of vice because she
seemed initially more sympathetic than any man. By the time her younger wards
realised that she was could also be a vicious and demanding bitch she was
already controlling their lives. The working girls who made up Rita McGiven's
stable were favourites with a wide variety of unpleasant clients and they had
made Rita rich.

	

	The Slob paid Rita a visit shortly after his first introduction to
Suzanne. She was already familiar with him as an occasional customer for one of
her girls. None of the women in her thrall liked having to service him but that
didn't worry Rita. In fact a little touch of fear helped to keep the girls in
line. This time, though, there was something out of the ordinary going on. At
first she was puzzled by the Slob's proposal. He showed her two photographs and
asked her if she had any girls who looked like the women in the pictures.  As it
happened she did have a couple 'on her books' who were passably similar. Rita
assumed that this was one of the Slob's kinky fantasies - that she had some sort
of thing for the two girls and wanted to play act a little scene with her own
'escorts'. But the Slob had something altogether different in mind and as she
listened Rita became increasingly intrigued by the situation. The Slob
understood the way Rita's mind worked - he had known her for a long time. He was
taking a risk by involving her in his plans like this but he knew that if she
went along with him, everything would be so much easier and more convenient.
Studying her reactions carefully as he gradually revealed more of his hitherto
relatively secret situation he knew he had made the right decision. By the time
he had finished she was smiling broadly.

	"I'm sure we can work something out", she said with a wicked little
laugh.

	

	Within a month Suzanne's plans to travel with Kirsty were all settled,
the loose ends of her work and home life had been closed off and her adventure
could begin. The poor girl had no way of knowing that someone else had plans for
her - and they did not involve travelling round the world! Kirsty had arranged
for a cab to take them both to the airport and Suzanne didn't recognise the taxi
driver who came to pick her up. If her memory had been better she might have
remembered him as the same rather threatening individual who had been sitting on
the next table during the girls' Pizza Hut reunion. But of course she had no
reason to make that connection.

	All their luggage had been sent on ahead and it was just a question of
getting to the check in desk on time. Next the cab would go on to pick up Kirsty
from her new lodgings. The Slob studied Suzanne in the rear view mirror as she
got into the cab. As the door slammed and he moved off into the traffic, he felt
like a trapper watching a bird fly straight into his cage. She's mine he
thought, triumphantly and his trousers began to tent as he drove, contemplating
the prospect of intimate encounters to come with the delicious young body he was
now transporting into captivity. Suzanne was wearing a pair of pink high healed
sandals, a pale pink knee length skirt which hugged her hips and a
semitransparent pale pink blouse. Her bare legs were lightly tanned and all in
all she was looking every bit as desirable as the day he had first seen her.

	"SLP on board and in transit", he said.

	The car radio wasn't connected to any taxi network. It was a small
citizen's band job which Mack was monitoring from the Slob's flat. In their
prearranged code "SLP" meant, 'sexy little package'.

	

	At first, Mack had found it hard to believe his son's story and he was
amazed by the strength of Kirsty's brainwashing. Eventually, though, he had to
recognise that his son really had captured a very attractive and innocent young
woman and converted her for his perverted uses. There was no doubt about it.
Kirsty was a slave and the Slob was her owner.

	 One day, the Slob held a little ceremony in which he designated his
father as an 'authorised keeper' giving Kirsty strict instructions that Mack now
had the same rights and privileges over her body which he took for granted. The
poor girl had been unable to hold back her tears when the Slob told her to obey
Mack completely or be punished. But that hadn't stopped the old man from bending
her over the kitchen table and giving her a good introductory fucking. Mack
continued to find the abject surrender of the helpless little blonde extremely
arousing and since then had enjoyed every opportunity to have his way with her.

	Much as Kirsty loathed and feared the Slob she was quite unable to
resist him and her conditioning was now so deep that she was simultaneously
aroused by his attentions and easily brought to orgasm when he chose to do so.
Mack, on the other hand was quite something else. The little blonde was utterly
terrified of the old man because he had an unpredictable streak of cruelty which
she was quite unable to understand. By adhering strictly to the Slob's
instructions, Kirsty could often escape the punishment which inevitably followed
any failure to perform to order. But Mack didn't seem to care what she did. He
was capricious and sadistic in his treatment of his son's plaything - 
delighting in her humiliation and full of imaginative methods for tormenting
her.

	Whilst the Slob went to collect Suzanne, Mack was 'looking after'
Kirsty. Sitting on the kitchen chair, he had the naked maid straddle his lap
with her back to him and positioned so that his rigid pole was impaled deep
inside her bottom.  His hands were closed around her breasts and his face
pressed to her ear which he could kiss, lick and nibble as he whispered
instructions, obscenities and taunts to her. Kirsty was trying hard not to cry.
It was difficult to know which of Mack's attentions she found the most
distressing. His brutal mauling of her breasts as he squeezed, pulled and
pinched them made her gasp in anguish from time to time but it could be endured.
Worse was the feeling of his rigidity inside her - his organ was long and hard
and stood proud in it's violation of her bottom. Whenever she shifted slightly
on his lap she could sense the pleasure her body was providing him, but the old
man seemed to have an inexhaustible sexual appetite and remarkable endurance and
he didn't climax. He saw it as a challenge to keep Kirsty skewered on the end of
his cock for as long as possible. But for all this it was his words which really
hurt her the most.

	"You'll have a little friend to join you soon", he gloated, when they
both heard the Slob's confirmation that the 'SLP' was on its way. "Won't that be
nice? Two juicy little trollops to cook and clean and accommodate their masters'
members. I wonder what she'll think of you when she finds out how you've
betrayed her? I expect she'll hate you."

	Mack chuckled as Kirsty whimpered. The dreadful thing was that Kirsty
did feel as though she was responsible for Suzanne's predicament. It was
ridiculous, of course. She had been ruthlessly manipulated by the Slob and
compelled to co-operate with his cunning scheme. Nevertheless, because the plan
had required that she have the appearance of autonomy Kirsty felt more anguish
over her supposed betrayal than made sense. She wanted to believe that during
one of their phone conversations or carefully staged meetings (of which the
Pizza Hut incident had only been the first of half a dozen) she could have
rebelled. Whilst she had been temporarily dressed again ('dolled up' as the Slob
called it) she dreamed that she could have run away. Or she could have screamed
a warning down the phone. But somehow she never had. Somehow the thought of
going against the Slob's wishes proved to be an impossible one when the time
came. And now Suzanne - her best friend - was about to be trapped in the same
fate!

	Only as Kirsty started to sob did Mack finally loose control and spunk
deep inside her. And that was the moment when the Slob arrived back home with
his prize...

	

	"Prepare for SLP delivery", came the Slob's voice just as Mack was
finishing. The cruel old man pushed Kirsty away knowing that his son's words
meant he had only five more minutes to 'pack her up'. After some discussion,
father and son had decided to play it safe and make sure Kirsty couldn't cause
any problems whilst they were dealing with Suzanne. They knew it would be a
moment of high emotion and stress for the anguished little blonde and although
the control strategy had been absolutely perfect so far there was no point in
taking a chance at this stage. Rather than risk the possibility that the
dramatic nature of the imminent abduction would shock Kirsty out of her
submissive surrender they had decided to secure her during the kidnapping. Mack
worked quickly. Two pairs of handcuffs were quickly clipped round the girl's
wrists and ankles, securing her hands behind her back and hobbling her. Pinching
her nose made her mouth gape open and let him force a thick wad of discoloured
white fabric inside. It had amused Mack to use a dirty pair of his own pants for
the make shift gag and he now secured it in place with two large strips of black
sticky tape. A roll of green garden twine was produced and looped several times
around the girl's knees then tied off tightly to keep her legs together. Mack
lifted Kirsty onto a hard wooden chair in the corner of the bedroom where she
would have a good view of the proceedings but would be helpless to intervene. He
finished off by tying the handcuffs to the arms and legs of the chair, confident
now that Kirsty couldn't move. He was just in time.

	"Wait here", he grinned. "I think there's someone at the door!"

	

	"Here we are. I'll show you to the flat on my call list", the driver
said, stopping the cab outside a dirty looking tower block which made Suzanne
shudder. She couldn't imagine what her friend was doing living in such a place.
She didn't like the cab driver much either but he insisted on accompanying her.

	Suzanne climbed the stairs carefully, wishing for a moment she hadn't
worn such high heels. The concrete steps were steep and the stairwells dark and
unpleasant. She was conscious of the taxi driver behind her and suspected he was
taking advantage of their relative positions to get a good look at her legs and
glimpses up her skirt. She tried not to shiver but she was becoming increasingly
apprehensive.  When the reached the flat she let out a shaky sigh and knocked
timidly on the door.

	It was opened by a scruffy looking old man with faded tattoos and a
horrible leer which widened into a wicked grin as he looked her up and down with
shocking insolence.  Kirsty had mentioned a landlord but surely it couldn't be
this nasty looking man? How on earth did her friend stand to live in this place!
It was a good job they were going away together. She'd have to find a way to
help Kirsty out of this flat...

	"Is Kirsty ready?", she managed, rather timidly because she was more
than a little afraid now.

	"Oh yes!", the old man answered, "she's quite ready!"

	For some reason, her question seemed to amuse him.

	"Come through and I'll let you see her."

	The door shut behind Suzanne with an ominous finality - the taxi driver
had his back to it but Suzanne didn't see the wink he cast over her shoulder.

	"Kirsty? Kirsty... it's time to go. Our taxi's waiting", she called
quietly as the old man led her towards the bedroom and pushed open the door. The
chair was out of sight in the corner and Suzanne couldn't see it until she had
stepped foot inside the room. Mack had the pleasure of watching the look of
horror which crossed her face as she recognised her friend tied to the chair.
There was a delicious moment of paralysis and then she opened her mouth to
scream. But in that moment the Slob, who had now bolted the door, came up behind
her and clapped a hand over her mouth.

	"You're not going anywhere, bitch!", he hissed in triumph. "You're
staying right here with us!"

	It took the two men a good five minutes to subdue the struggling blonde.
The Slob had underestimated her strength and desperation. Suzanne wriggled
awkwardly in his grasp, tried to bite him and kicked out violently. But it was
quite useless. Once Mack had managed to get a grip on her left leg and yanked it
out from under her, she toppled over and was easily bundled onto the bed where a
breathless Slob sat heavily on her legs. Now the older man had time to tame her
flailing arms and fasten the third pair of handcuffs he'd deployed in the last
few minutes round the blonde's pale wrists.

	"She's a feisty one alright!", Mack said. "The sooner you break this one
in, the better!"

	But there were no further problems as the men, bound and gagged their
pretty victim. The Slob chose Suzanne's own panties to serve as her gag, knowing
how Kirsty had been gagged and pleased by the symmetry of the arrangement. How
she writhed when he put his hands under her skirt to yank them down! But to no
avail, of course. Soon the white lacy fabric was wadded tightly inside her
bulging cheeks and her squawks of protest were reduced to muffled moans.

	"She won't be needing these from now on", the Slob joked with his
father. "We might as well have some use out of them!"

	Once Suzanne was safely trussed up, Mack went to the fridge to get them
both a beer.

	"A drink to celebrate", he said to his son. "That's a job well done. Now
perhaps we can have a proper look at our catch eh? See what she's made of...

	Whilst the Slob sipped his beer thoughtfully, Mack unbuttoned Suzanne's
blouse, taking his time to enjoy the heaving of her chest as the distressed
young woman struggled to breath through her gag and moaned louder in
anticipation of imminent further abuse. Eventually the blouse was tugged clear
of her skirt and only the taut elastic of a low cut lacy pink bra separated the
men from a full view of the girl's plump young breasts. Not for long. The front
fastening garment was quickly unclipped and the men were treated to their first
proper view of Suzanne's excellent mammary glands.

	The Slob let out a low whistle

	"Now that's what I call a delicious pair of milk puddings", he remarked
appreciatively. He winked at Kirsty who had endured the sight of her friend's
capture with increasing disgust and was now rigid with horror. "What do you
think, eh Kirsty? Bet you wish you had a pair of juice jugs like that!"

	Mack laughed. He bent over to cup Suzanne's breasts in his hands and
began to squeeze them, pulling the flesh hard between his fingers and kneading
it like dough. The blonde had prominent red nipples which were set in pearl pink
aureoles.

	"Lovely fat tits!", Mack husked as if his son needed any confirmation...
"A lot better than your tiny little titties!", he said to Kirsty, mocking the
girl he had abused in a similar manner so recently.

	"That's enough, Dad", the Slob said at last. "About time we finished
stripping her before I thrash that fat arse of hers! If she's going to be any
use to us in future she has to learn to do as she's told. I won't tolerate any
more struggling like that! Once she's had a dose of the strap perhaps the silly
minx will think twice before she misbehaves again." He was pleased to see that
Suzanne's eyes were wide with horror as the impact of this little speech sank
in. Her breasts, now marked red from their recent mauling, were rising and
falling rapidly and her heart rate seemed to have increased like that of a
trapped bird in a cage.

	It didn't take much longer to take off the girl's shoes and skirt. The
blouse was more awkward, obstructed by the handcuffs as it was, but the Slob
took his time to briefly unfasten each arm and successfully removed it without
tearing the cotton or popping any of the buttons. He had a use for his victim's
clothes so he was careful to keep them undamaged as he undressed her.  Finally,
though, she was completely naked, except for the fabrics and metal they had
trussed her with. He stroked her loins as she tried to shrink from him.

	"What a nice little purse", he whispered. "I'm going to enjoy making a
deposit in there!" In a louder voice he continued.

	"Let's turn her over now Dad. Time for her punishment, I believe!"

	The strap the Slob had in mind was a wide leather implement which had
once been used for luggage and on a large case come to that. It was supple but
string and the Slob was convinced it would make a nice job of Suzanne's bottom.
He swished it experimentally though the air for a couple of times as Mack turned
the blonde over and rolled her on the edge of the bed, easing his hands under
her chest and twisting her so that her bound knees fell to the floor and her
bare rump was nicely positioned for the coming treatment.

	"That's good", the Slob said, pleased with the easy availability and
plump ripeness of the blonde's bottom cheeks. They made an excellent target -
ample buttocks that derived from the girl's petite hour glass figure but with
firm flesh and looking as though they would withstand a great deal of
punishment. He would soon find out!

	He watched her tense and relax, quaking as she waited for him to begin.
When she was at her most vulnerable he landed the first stroke - hard and
uncompromising. Even underneath her gag that made her squeal ! The follow up
stroke came quickly and was almost as hard. The blonde jerked, pressing her hips
into the bed but there was no avoiding the punishment. The Slob had learned a
lot from Kirsty and now he knew how to time each stroke for maximum effect,
sometimes waiting until the girl inevitably relaxed a little before landing the
next blow and sometimes delivering a quick fire series of painful deliveries.

	"Variety", he said to Mack. "That's the key to a successful thrashing.
Never let the bitch know what to expect next. "

	On the word 'next' he administered another stroke which made the older
man laugh. Suzanne was sobbing now. Her bottom bore a bright pink pattern of
interesting welts which would make it uncomfortable for her to sit down for a
long time to come. Good, thought the Slob and he continued for another two
minutes, sensing instinctively when further punishment would be counter
productive. He wanted the blonde to be scared of him and terrified of a future
beating but he didn't want to inflict any permanent damage which would spoil the
appearance of that splendidly fuckable young body. So at last he dropped the
strap and let his left hand roam over his handy work, enjoying the heat of the
freshly punished flesh which quivered and flinched beneath his palm. A sharp
pinch to the soft tissue near the crack of her bottom brought a muffled wail of
agony and then he dragged the girl to her to her feet and nodded to Mack. It was
a prearranged signal and the old man stepped into position to support the naked
blonde, whilst his son reached for a length of rope. In the last week the Slob
had fitted a hook and pulley to the bedroom ceiling and now he ran the rope
between Suzanne's arms.

	"Let's have the other one, Dad", he said and Kirsty was untied from the
chair and pulled to her feet to join her friend. The two girls were positioned,
face to face and the rope passed between Kirsty's arms then yanked above her
head. The Slob could now pull the rope through the pulley and tie it off,
leaving both girls suspended on tip toes, bodies pressed nose to nose and breast
to breast.

	"Good job that's a structural beam", Mack said as he watched the hook
take the weight of both girls. "Otherwise the fat cows would bring the ceiling
down on us!"

	The Slob ran his hands all over the girls' bodies, relishing their
readily available nakedness. Kirsty made a pleasing contrast to her plump little
friend, the black stockings which she still wore offsetting the combined vision
of smooth pale skin and contrasting with the rich pink glow of Suzanne's bottom.
Both men enjoyed the way that the girls' breasts were forced together, making
the soft young flesh balloon out to the side.

	"You girls are old friends aren't you", the Slob mocked. "I'm sure you'd
like a little time to get reacquainted. And I have something here to break the
ice."

	Reaching into a draw in the bedside cabinet, he found what he was
looking for - a large black double headed dildo. Suzanne's eyes widened
noticeably as she saw it but neither woman could do anything about it as the
Slob got ready to impale them. Mack held Suzanne back whilst his son fingered
Kirsty and stimulated her into a moist acceptance. To her deep shame, Kirsty
couldn't help herself now. The conditioning was just too strong and when the
Slob said the key words she inevitably became aroused. It wasn't difficult for
her tormentor to ease one end of his cruel toy deep inside her. Meanwhile, Mack
had been doing his best to prepare Suzanne, stroking her sex and teasing her
clitoris with his right hand whilst his left hand played with her breasts. It
was very difficult to coax any sort of lubrication from the shocked body of the
abused young woman but once she had begun to receive the same treatment as
Kirsty the Slob had no doubt she would begin to respond in the same way. In the
mean time he had no real patience with her and settled for brutality, pressing
Kirsty forward and using the weight of her quivering over stimulated body to
force the cruel instrument forward until it was just as deeply embedded in her
friend. The two blondes were now united by the fat tool of sexual authority and
to ensure that they remained that way, the Slob took the luggage strap and
looped it round their waists, buckling it tightly above the hip so that their
loins were pressed tightly against one another. Mack used some more twine and
tied the girls together at the knees and under the arms. It all helped to press
them into the most intimate and unavoidable contact.

	"Now", said the Slob. "I think perhaps it's time to breach this buxom
blonde's back passage. Pass me the vasaline will you Dad? She'll need greasing
up first."

	To Suzanne's horror the Slob now took a jar of the waxy jelly and began
to apply it to the sensitive ring at the heart of her buttocks.

	"That's nice," he joked as he worked. "There's noting like a freshly
battered bum before tea, eh?"

	He took her buttock cheeks and rolled them in the palm of his hands like
a baker kneading two mounds of dough. He chuckled as his victim squirmed in
protest, pinched the bright pink skin to shock her and then worked his finger
deeper inside until he had forced the girl to open the muscles that were trying
to deny him entry.

	"Right the way up your bottom hole, eh missy!" he gloated when he had
achieved maximum penetration. "And that's where my prick is going soon. It'll be
a lovely tight fit but you'll take it, whether you like it or not!"

	The Slob was as good as his word. In less than a minute his sexual organ
had replaced his finger as the instrument of abuse - probing deeply inside the
pretty young woman's back side and evoking increasingly desperate little moans
which were suitably muffled by the gag of her own panties.

	The Slob was enjoying himself enormously. And he had some additional
ideas which he'd previously discussed with his father... Now the older man gave
him a wicked grin. Taking "Michael" Cane from the kitchen Mack returned to stand
behind Kirsty. In silence he suddenly delivered a hard blow full across the
woman's buttocks. A muffled squeal or pain, terror and surprise made its way
past Kirsty's own gag and caught without warning, the reaction of her vulnerable
young body was most gratifying to the two men. Kirsty was unable to avoid
jerking her hips forward violently, bucking hard against Suzanne. The double
headed dildo that united the girls was inevitably forced deeper inside them both
so that drops of sweat were squeezed onto their foreheads. Suzanne had nowhere
to go, impaled at back and front and her hot young bottom was pressed harder
against her tormentor, allowing his triumphant organ to conquer more territory
as it invaded her helpless flesh.

	"Again!", the Slob managed to gasp, nearly delirious with pleasure and
his father was happy to oblige, meeting out a second stroke of the cane which
produced a second convulsion.

	"Bugger the little blonde bitch hard!", Mack said. "She needs a damn
good seeing to. Teach the silly cow a lesson for interfering in our business,
eh?

	"You thought you'd take Kirsty off round the world did you?" he taunted
Suzanne in a different tone of voice as he delivered a third blow. "Well she's
my son's maid and he hasn't finished with her yet! And we've only just started
with you, you fat cow. Before we've finished you'll be grateful if we milk those
fat udders before we whip 'em!"

	And shortly after that, the Slob came inside his new acquisition, highly
delighted with his first violation of the nubile captive and momentarily sated.

	Of course Mack had to have some form of release now. The Slob was quite
happy for him to enjoy the new girl but considered it better that he save the
pleasure for a future date. Poor Suzanne had already had about as much of a
shock as she could comfortably absorb. Any more now would be wasted, whereas if
Mack waited until she had had a day or two to come to terms with her plight, the
Slob knew that the girl would find Mack's intimate attentions all the more
horrible. And that would help to break her. So Mack contented himself with
returning his member to the warm channel of Kirsty's bottom, from where he had
removed it such a short time ago. This time he had the pleasure of grasping a
freshly punished bottom and pulling Suzanne forward as a means of furthering his
entry into Kirsty. Both girls were sobbing now. It didn't take long for Mack to
climax.

	

	"Excellent. I think we'll leave you to it for a little while", the Slob
said at last. It was very difficult for both men not to continue their pleasure
with the girls then and there. Both were highly aroused by the erotic spectacle
the helpless young women presented and longed to give them a proper ride. But
the Slob knew that patience would have its reward. If the silly sluts were left
to stew for a little longer the anticipation would make the final satisfaction
all the greater. Pulling on the rope, the Slob hauled the girls a little higher
so that they were forced onto their toes. He tightened the luggage strap another
notch. It had been convenient to give the wenches a little freedom of movement
whilst the men were poking them but now he wanted them more tightly constrained.

	And then he pulled his master stroke. The dildo was more than a simple
inert instrument. The appliance had batteries and could act as a double headed
vibrator. As he switched it on, he had to chuckle. It was such an delightful
sight, watching the blondes strain on tip toe and wriggle with inescapable
stimulation. There remained two final acts of subtle control. to perform...

	The first was to begin Suzanne's conditioning. A pair of headphones was
pressed to her ears and the hypnotic messages began. The Slob had thought about
this particular message carefully. If all went well, poor Suzanne would soon
begin to feel unavoidable stirrings of lesbian lust towards her friend. Kirsty
had already been indoctrinated with the same desires but today he had different
plans for her...

	The Slob went over to his first maid and whispered in her ear.  "Now be
a good girl Kirsty. I know you fancy your friend but I don't want you coming
without permission so no orgasm until I get back, do you hear?"

	He laughed as he left the girls, knowing that the vibrator would drive
Kirsty to distraction but that his control was strong enough to prevent any
release without permission. Instead, Suzanne would be the first to come -
unconstrained by any command to the contrary and subjected to the relentless
conditioning she would be unable to help herself. And then she would begin to
appreciate the true nature of her fate...

	"Come on Dad", the Slob said when he was satisfied with the set up. "I'd
better put the car in the garage now and then I've got to pop down the King's
head. If you want to watch the football on the telly there's an Arsenal game on
Sky. We'll come back for these two in a couple of hours or so, after tea eh?"

	

	As the two friends squirmed uncomfortably in their tight and intimate
bondage, the Slob was concluding some business which would ensure that their
abduction left no trace. In the pub at the far end of market street he handed
over two passports and two plane tickets to Rita McGiven. The madam took them
without any questions. The Slob had disclosed as much of his plans as she needed
to know and the grin on his face was enough to tell her that so far they had
been successful...

	"Come here girls!", Rita said, ordering two young women to join them.

	"Meet Tracey and Julie", she said, introducing them to the Slob.

	 The women she'd chosen for the job were just a couple of cheap tarts
she'd been pimping for long enough to understand their psychology and to be
confident that they would do as they were told. She'd selected them mainly
because she knew they could be relied upon to comply with her instructions but
also because they looked vaguely like the Slob's chosen prey. With suitable wigs
and makeup they could pass custom control with the stolen passports. The girls
were glad of the job and would ask no questions about it. They just had to
travel to America and return under their own names. There would be no trace of
Kirsty or Suzanne after that. If anyone was looking for them, they would follow
the trail to America where it would go completely cold. No one would think to
link them with the whores returning on a different airline. Perfect.

	"I'd like to take them upstairs", the Slob said after he's looked the
girls up and down and found them suitable.

	"Be my guest", Rita said with a grin. The pub had rooms over the bar
that she rented as a regular 'knocking shop', an arrangement that the landlord
was well aware of and turned a blind eye to.

	"Do whatever the man tells you to", Rita warned her girls, "or you'll
have me to answer for. If you're good you're going to get a nice holiday out of
this so make sure you behave yourselves."

	"Strip off!", the Slob said directly as soon as he had the girls behind
closed doors. They looked at one another uneasily but they'd been on the game
for too long to be shocked by this and quickly did as they were asked. The Slob
smiled. The girls' bodies had been hardened by too much use - they weren't even
close to the quality of "the real thing" but they would do nicely for his
purposes.

	"You. Put these on", he ordered. "And you - you're wearing these!" If
the girls were surprised they didn't show it. They might have expected some sort
of kinky bondage gear from someone as obviously menacing as the Slob but instead
he had only given them ordinary clothes; black stockings, a black skirt and a
white blouse for one and a pink skirt and blouse for the other. Perversely,
watching Tracey and Julie dress as Kirsty and Suzanne was more arousing for the
tart's client than watching them strip had been.  They would do very nicely
indeed...

	The Slob fucked them then - both of them in turn. It was a perfunctory
coupling, more in the nature of a sealed bargain than an act of passion. Neither
girl provided him with a fraction of the enjoyment of their original but he
managed to find some pleasure in the act as he considered the prospects for
Kirsty and Suzanne once he could work on them together.  This was a proxy
fucking - a virtual going over which owed as much to the phrase "you're fucked!"
as it did to any sort of sexual release. When he was finished he left them to
clean themselves up with strict instructions that they were to wear these
clothes on the plane to America then dump them out there before they came back.
Then the Slob went down to the bar again. There was time for a quick drink with
Rita before he returned home to start on the arduous but rewarding task of
training Suzanne in earnest...

	Part 6 - The Daily Grind

	

	It's a hard life when you're the Slob, but only in the most enjoyable
sense!

	

	The Slob was a little anxious about Tracey and Julie and he was quite
relieved when Rita McGiven let him know that they were safely back from the
States. The girls had picked up Kirsty and Suzanne's luggage and returned it to
him for checking. That took care of a tricky loose end. To celebrate their
return from America, Rita hosted a little party at which Kirsty and Suzanne were
obliged to pleasure the two prostitutes who had impersonated them and ensured
that the Slob could keep them.

	Effectively, the two respectable blondes had vanished without a trace.
No one would even think to look for them in England. They were his to handle as
he pleased... And they had a lot to learn about the meaning of true obedience.

	

	With the last awkward details of Suzanne's abstraction from society
taken care of, the Slob could concentrate on completing her conditioning, a
process which proceeded smoothly and satisfactorily so that by the end of
October he considered that she had been subjugated every bit as successfully as
Kirsty. Now the Slob was able to relax a bit. Both girls could be controlled
without the same degree of intense supervision that had been necessary in the
early days of their captivity. He could settle into a more normal routine of
business and outside engagements, safe in the knowledge that when he returned to
the flat he would find two obedient sex slaves waiting to do his bidding!

	Every day began with a shower which he shared with both his maids. There
was a precise ritual to this morning ablution which the slaves soon learned to
follow without repeated instruction. Suzanne would apply a liberal dose of
shower gel to her succulent little breasts and then work them into a lather
before pressing the softly yielding mounds against the Slob's blubbery arms and
stomach and rubbing his skin clean like a living bar of soap. Meanwhile, Kirsty
was expected to wash the Slob's legs and clean between his toes. The happy owner
of the former office workers never tired of the luxury of warm wet slippery girl
flesh to toy with in the shower. Although they found his ill kept body quite
disgusting, for their own part Kirsty and Suzanne were helpless to suppress an
overwhelming arousal in the presence of their master's body - a constant
reminder of the powerful hold he had over them. Knowing this, the Slob exploited
his dominance to tease the blonde beauties even more. He had a short high
pressure hose connected to the taps, complete with a special control which
allowed him to select scalding hot or freezing cold water. From time to time he
would aim a sudden jet at breast, buttock or thigh, always provoking quite a
pleasing little involuntary wriggle from his chosen victim. The girls learned
early, however, not to squeal in protest. The slightest squeak of any kind
resulted in a strapping afterwards which was all the more painful for being
administered across a wet bottom! Occasionally the Slob would bend one of the
girls backwards over the side of the bath and opening her labia with crude
fingers, apply a jet of water directly inside her sex. Playing it over the most
sensitive skin around her clitoris he could invariably bring her to orgasm
within thirty seconds. Initially horrified by their shameful surrender the maids
gradually became accustomed to this almost clinical abuse. After a while,
indeed, they subconsciously craved the impersonal manipulation and resultant
pleasure as a reward despite the fact that their conscious minds continues to
find the treatment deeply abhorrent. The Slob was delighted. Their basic
training was enough to ensure the maids' obedience by now, of course, but this
special refinement lent extra enthusiasm to their ministrations as they secretly
competed to please him. He never actually fucked his maids in the shower (well,
not as such). As he explained to Larry...

	"I want to get clean in the morning. No point in soiling my prick in a
tart's dirty little honey pot!"

	Nevertheless, the Slob's morning ablutions were always concluded in the
same pleasurable way. Suzanne was expected to soap her breasts once again and
then kneel between her master's legs and apply them to his rampant rod. The soft
rhythmic pressure of the submissive blonde's juicy mammary glands soon brought
his triumphant organ to complete rigidity and cleansed the swollen flesh  all
around his cock and balls. And, of course, after that he needed relief from the
inevitable sexual pressure. That was Kirsty's job. Before he came, she would be
substituted for her buxom friend and put to work licking the soap away. When he
was ready he grasped her hair and pinched her nose, forcing his member deep into
the back of her throat and climaxing as he thrust his hips onto her face, often
accompanied by a noisy and smelly fart. Kirsty had no option but to swallow
every drop of his seed before her tormentor withdrew with a sigh of
satisfaction.

	Leaving the shower, the girls would towel him dry and then Kirsty would
shave him. By now she had been well trained in this personal service and for a
few minutes as she carefully scraped the safety razor over his jowls could
expect to remain relatively unmolested. Suzanne was always available to
entertain his wandering hands whilst the older girl worked. After showering and
shaving he was dressed for the day, assisted with each item of clothing by a
humble naked maid, still damp from bathing but expected to do her utmost to keep
his own garments dry. Once he was dressed he would supervise a shaving session
for the girls. The Slob preferred to keep his chattels 'properly bare' below
their heads. To ensure baby smooth skin he made them rub plenty of foam under
one another's armpits and into one another's sex before each girl carefully
shaved the skin she had prepared. The operation provoked some interesting
reactions in the young women, neither of whom could avoid a degree of arousal as
their bodies reacted to the stimulation occasioned by such intimate attention.
The Slob had no objections to some occasional ineffectual squirming as long as
the maids were still for long enough to complete the job properly. However, he
was very quick to put a stop to any behaviour that might conclude in an
unauthorised orgasm and the girls almost always finished up horny but
frustrated, their lesbian conditioning reinforced but not gratified.

	Breakfast was a leisurely affair. One of the maids would be designated
to prepare it whilst the other was usually assigned the humiliating role of a
living footstool, crouching under the table and required to remain perfectly
still as the Slob rested his feet on her back and read the morning paper. He
expected bacon and eggs with beans and sausages fried perfectly to his taste. It
was a difficult job for the unfortunate cook. Still naked she was subjected  to
spitting fat from the frying pan and if she squealed at all then the strap would
follow as surely as night follows day.

	His pets were fed only when he had finished eating. By now he had bought
a collar for both girls and when he was ready he would fasten each collar
carefully around their necks filling two dog bowls with dry cereal and water. On
hands and knees the girls were compelled to lap up their food and drink like
'good little bitches'.  Watching their bare bottoms thrust unashamedly into the
air, as often as not glowing pink from recent punishment, the Slob always felt
an enormously gratifying sense of his total power over the beautiful blondes.
They were his now - body and soul - and there was nothing that he could not do
with them!

	Before he left the flat, the Slob always fitted the girls with their new
'plastic panties'. The cunning devices weren't panties at all, in any
conventional sense, despite the fact that he called them such. They were
carefully moulded transparent triangular wedges of rigid plastic that fitted
snugly over the slave girl's loins. Fastened round their bottoms with thin metal
chains the triangles were pulled tightly against their flesh and could not be
pulled away or moved unless you had the key to the tiny but strong metal
padlocks which held them in place.

	"The panties are to prevent you from playing with yourselves or with one
another", he told them sternly on the first occasion he made them wear the
special garments. "You're a pair of wanton little sluts and I can't trust you
not to spend all day diddling your fingers in and out of your twats. You're here
to work for me and I want you concentrating on the jobs I tell you to do - it's
best if I take charge of these little honey pots between your legs, so no self
abuse and no rubbing your cunts up against one another unless I say so!"

	The plastic really made a very effective chastity belt and the girls
were quite unable to stimulate themselves whilst it remained in place. Which was
a pity because their conditioning now ensured a continuous low level of arousal
and a desire for one another's bodies, reinforced by constant exposure to near
naked flesh. After he left, there were various household chores to perform -
washing their master's clothes, washing the dishes and cleaning the flat. But
they also had to do their morning exercises. The Slob had installed an exercise
bike and a rowing machine and he insisted that both girls perform a rigorous
physical work out to tone their muscles and keep them from running to fat.

	"I like to keep my property in good condition", he joked to his father.
There were mileage and stroke  counters on the machines and woe betide the girls
if they hadn't done their quota when he came home! It only took one caning for
them to realise he meant business and after that they both made strenuous
efforts to achieve the targets he set for them.

	At lunch time the girls usually had a visit, either from Mack or from
Rita McGiven. The Slob had asked Rita if she wouldn't mind keeping an eye on his
playthings from time to time and because she was intrigued by the situation Rita
had agreed.

	The madam didn't really like the Slob's new living arrangements with
Kirsty and Suzanne. It wasn't because she felt at all sorry for the two pretty
blonde captives. If the silly floozies had been stupid enough to let the man
take control of their bodies then that was just tough luck - after all she'd
manipulated other young women into positions where their flesh was simply a
manageable resource in her own profession (although none of them had been
reduced to anything like the same pitiful state of abject surrender which Kirsty
and Suzanne now exhibited). Rita's real worry was that the Slob might start to
run his slave girls as prostitutes and draw trade away from her own tarts. That
would be bad for business. She could accept the fact that the Slob might not
want to spend as much money on her whores as he used to, so long as he didn't
sell the use of his love toys elsewhere. Fortunately,  the Slob seemed anxious
to assure Rita that he had no intention of competing with her. He had promised
her that he was retaining the girls for 'his own personal use'.

	So Rita checked that the girls had done their morning exercises and
filled their bowls with water and food. Sometimes she would have a little
'training' session where she would use one of them for her own pleasure, making
the hapless young woman lick her sex and bring her to a climax - of course the
"panties" were never removed during these encounters so the slave girls never
received any relief for their own frustrations.

	Their only chance of release came if Mack was the one to visit. Then  he
might bend a girl over the table, unfasten her chains and "feed the cock some
tasty tart sweetmeat" as he like to call his abuses. But the girls never enjoyed
these sessions because they were almost always preceded by a bare bottom
spanking to "Warm my pudding up for me". Mack had even taken to making the girls
do this job for him, enjoying the sight of Kirsty spanking Suzanne's ample rump,
or Suzanne dishing out the same treatment to her older friend. It was no use
either of them pretending to spank their friend but in reality easing up on the
blows. Mack had warned them that if they didn't do a proper job they'd be given
a 'damn good thrashing'. Once again, it had only taken one lesson at the hands
of the cane to convince the trembling blondes to co-operate in one another's
punishment.

	Suzanne's breasts were a bountiful source of entertainment for the Slob
and his father who employed a variety of demeaning metaphors to refer to them.
The poor young woman was often subjected to "juice jug punishment", in which her
mammary glands were squeezed, stretched and spanked. The men were particularly
harsh if she failed to 'use them properly' round their eager rods.

	

	The afternoons were 'conditioning time'. The girls took turns to use the
apparatus, which enslaved them, one sitting in a chair with the headphones
fitted round her ears whilst the other supervised her reinforcement session.
Kirsty would brush Suzanne's hair and lick her breasts as voices told the
younger woman how futile it was to disobey and how the Slob must be obeyed at
all times. When it was Kirsty's turn, Suzanne returned the favours of her older
friend. Sometimes the blondes would be instructed to use nipple creams and to
pinch and pull one another's tender nubbins to help develop them. The sticky
ointment could be rubbed into a pair of breasts whilst voices worked on their
owner. This was all quite arousing for the poor young women who were by now well
on the way to feeling fully fledged lesbian desires. But of course with the
plastic panties in place they had no way of satisfying their carefully instilled
cravings and could only long for the Slob to come home and use them.

	

	In the evening, when the Slob returned from work he expected to find a
hot meal waiting for him. After tea he'd watch TV or read the paper, sometimes
using a convenient maid to suck his cock whilst he fondled her flesh with all
the idle authority of an aristocrat playing with a pet puppy. Even then, the
"plastic panties" were seldom removed. But finally, it was time for bed and both
maids usually joined him, desperate now for the vigorous sex which would follow
before he slept. Occasionally he would choose to punish one of the girls by
denying her access to the bed and making her watch as he fucked her rival. A
night of frustration, sleeping on the floor was at least as effective, he now
found, as a dose of the cane.

	

	As winter gave way to spring, the Slob continued to enjoy the services
of his luckless slaves, giving them little more thought now than any of his
other possessions, except in so far as it amused him to derive new forms of
humiliation and degradation for the lovely blonde girls. They were his fuck toys
- pure and simple, but there were ways to make money out of them which didn't
involve competing with Rita. The cruel Madam even suggested one such way to the
Slob and he was eager to follow up her idea. She lent him the services of Tracy
and Julie so that he could make a video for the hard core porn market. Poor
Kirsty and Suzanne were obliged to take a staring role in this interesting
production which featured a re-enactment of Suzanne's capture and a wide variety
of other scenes in which the blondes' enslavement and subjugation were shown in
graphic and intimate detail. They were made to tongue one another to orgasm for
the camera and then to serve as love toys for the two prostitutes, licking the
tart's slits as the foul mouthed young women compared the pleasure they were
getting from their captives, dragged them round by the hair and beat their
bottoms when they failed to please. It was a very arousing production and sold
well on the internet with a few teasing photographs.

	There were many ways in which the girls' owner could enjoy his complete
control of their bodies and minds and as time passed he refined his techniques,
developing a number of interesting enhancements to the basic mind control
methods and introducing some new games. Sometimes, it amused the Slob to be able
to speak to his father or his friends in the presence of the girls without
letting them listen in on his conversation. It wasn't because he needed to keep
anything secret from them as such - they had no choice but to listen to his
gloating and his cruel descriptions of his plans for them on many occasions and
there was nothing they could do to escape their conditioning even under such
provocation. The reason why the Slob sometimes wanted privacy was simply so that
he could surprise his blonde toys with extended plans which needed detailed
discussion and which worked best when the girls had no idea what was to happen
next. Under deep hypnosis and with long sessions under the headphones, he 
trained both girls to respond to two special key phrases - "Gobbledegook" and
"Pretty Dollys". On hearing the first of these phrases all further conversation
would sound as if it was in a foreign language and would be completely
incomprehensible to the captives until they heard the second phrase, at which
point they would again understand what was being said around and to them. It was
a very clever plan and it made the Slob's life much easier, allowing him to
freely discuss some of the technical details of the mind control strategy with
his father in front of the girls without even a remote chance that they might
identify a possible plan of escape.

	

	There was a favourite game that the Slob and his father liked to play.
The evil fat man called the game "Pop Tarts". Consider a typical session.
Suzanne and Kirsty stand back to back. The girls are dressed identically in
backless high-heeled sandals, sheer black self support hosiery and wide studded
dog collars which prevent their heads from dropping. They are otherwise naked.
The backs of their pretty ankles and legs are touching, their bare bottoms press
firmly together and their soft blonde hair cushions their skulls which rest
against one another. Suzanne's left hand reaches behind her back and her fingers
splay over Kirsty's sex but they do not move to stimulate it. Her right arm is
bent more awkwardly and reaches back to allow her hand to cup Kirsty's left
breast. Once again, the touch is feather light and the fingers do not stroke or
squeeze the tender young flesh. Her friend mirrors Suzanne's pose. Kirsty's
smaller fingers are in delicate contact with Suzanne's sex and her plump left
mammary gland. And so they stand; a most erotic pair of statues, providing the
Slob with much pleasure from the simple placing of their beautiful figures. For
more than an hour he lets them wait, watching the ragged flow of frustrated
breath passing through their over excited young bodies, the irregular rise and
fall of two magnificent pairs of bare bosoms and the slow treacherous hardening
of four sweetly sensitive nipples. To prepare them for this game the plastic
panties have been worn for two whole days and both girls have endured a period
of enforced denial and unresolved stimulation. Now they wait only the command to
begin with a mixture of dread and longing. Mack and his son make their bets.
They assess the competitors before the race begins, circling them and touching
them up, passing crude comments and casual jokes about the naked female flesh,
which shrinks from their touch but is ultimately so utterly unable to resist
them. On this occasion the Slob chooses to bet on Suzanne and his father goes
for Kirsty. Normally, the senior slave is the better bet but the Slob has
gambled that Suzanne has improved in her last few games and has learned to
control herself better.

	"On my mark, then my pretty little pop tarts", he says at last. "Go!"

	At once the girls begin to frig one another with frantic passion.
Fingers slip into moist cunts and flick against the sensitive inner skin. Hands
squeeze and pull on vulnerable tit flesh and nipples are pinched and twisted.
The girls groan in an agony of denial. The object of the game is to make the
other young woman climax whilst keeping control of their own body. It is
fiendishly hard for the poor blondes, conditioned as they are to lesbian lust,
but the penalties for failure are severe and this puts them in a delicious
dilemma. The Slob and his father watch them carefully to see "which of the tarts
will pop". For five remarkably erotic minutes the girls struggle against their
carefully cultivated desires, a testament both to the power of their
conditioning and their fear of losing the contest. At last Suzanne succumbs. In
an overflow of ecstasy her body shudders and she cannot disguise the gasp of
release.

	"Bad girl!", the Slob says, but his father is grinning from ear to ear.
For the winner there is the 'prize'  but for the looser the penalty. The Slob
grabs Suzanne and brutally forces her towards the shower. She begins to sob in
anticipation of her punishment. He pushes her into the bath and she stumbles as
her heels slip on the white enamel. For a moment she thinks she might fall and
struggles to regain her balance, slipping and nearly twisting her ankle. Without
stopping to remove stockings or shoes the Slob turns on a blast of icy cold
water. Suzanne squeaks as it drenches her head and her pretty pink nipples
harden like pebbles. Soon the water is cascading over the sheer nylon tights,
soaking them through and sticking them to her ripe young thighs.  When she is
wet and shivering and goose pimples have erupted all over her milky pale skin
the Slob drags her out into the living room and orders her to touch her toes.
Now it is time for her to face his friend Michael cane! Meanwhile Mack is ready
to take the first part of his winnings. The money his son now owes him can be
paid later but first there is the matter of a ride on the "lucky" blonde. Mack
grins as he orders a shivering Kirsty to strip and remove her dog collar. The
docile young woman complies and soon she is completely naked, at which point the
Scot bends her backwards over the sofa so that she is ready to be taken. "Now
you'll get a proper man's climax", he chuckles enjoying the delicious mixture of
fear, loathing and perverse eagerness which Kirsty is now exhibiting. She really
is a delicious young woman, the old man thinks. Kirsty's limbs are a supple
golden brown and her treacherous body is oh so very needy! This has been a fine
piece of preparation for a splendid fuck to come. How she hates him! And yet how
she is desperate to accept his cock inside her, brought to the heady heights of
sexual release and suspended in glorious frustration a few moments from orgasm.
Mack lowers himself onto her. His craggy face leers at her lissom beauty. Their
bodies make an obscene contrast of aging but vigorous hard bone and sinew with
lush, yielding and vulnerable young skin. Kirsty cries out as the old man
penetrates her. He is forty years her senior and yet he takes her as if he is a
teenager - with energy and enthusiasm. Viagra is a wonderful drug. The Slob is
taking out his anger on Suzanne. "You really are a stupid slut aren't you?", he
says. "A cold shower isn't enough for a fat dyke like you. You need something
stronger to discourage you from your nasty lesbian tendencies!" The sheer
hypocrisy of his remarks would amaze anyone who was capable of exercising
rational thought but Suzanne is beyond that. She doesn't know that she has been
conditioned to modify perfectly normal heterosexual responses into an increasing
acceptance and desire for her friend's body, now blossoming into full
bi-sexuality. She still feels shame at the thought mixed with her newly
cultivated lusts and she almost agrees with the Slob's cruel assessment of her
behaviour.  With her bottom still wet and her hair dripping onto the carpet
Suzanne is subjected to a vigorous caning. The Slob knows that the cane will be
more effective against damp flesh - sharper and more painful. Kirsty can see her
friend's torment as her head is bent backwards over the sofa and the old Scot
claws at her tender breasts. Swish, thwack! The cane bites into Suzanne's soft
bottom leaving a long red line of agony. Swish, thwack! Suzanne fights hard not
to scream knowing it will only make the punishment worse. Mack is timing his
thrusts into Kirsty's needy body so that each stroke is matched by the stroke of
the cane. This cannot last for long. The over stimulated young blonde is too
desperate to hold out and by the fourth stroke she rises to meet her rider,
grinding her hips urgently into the old man's loins. Mack comes inside her and
their mutual orgasm wracks both bodies for a long few seconds. Swish, thwack!
The Slob doesn't stop beating Suzanne. Soon the voluptuous blonde is decorated
with a fiery red network of lines all across her buttocks and Mack has recovered
sufficiently to begin a second, slower fucking of her lovely friend. This one
too, is timed to match the rhythm of the Slob's cane. Before the Slob finishes
punishing Suzanne his father has spent himself for a second time inside Kirsty
and finally withdrawn. Now the Slob needs to unload the boiling contents of his
own balls and since Suzanne has ruled herself out of the question, Kirsty must
suffice. The Slob doesn't fuck her in the conventional way - he just needs a cum
bucket and Kirsty will have to use her mouth for this. Still bent backwards over
the sofa he steps up to her and pinches her nose. Her mouth opens wide and he
pushes his swollen prick inside.  In moments he comes, using his thumb to
squeeze Kirsty's adam's apple and force her to swallow his outpourings. She
gulps desperately, nearly choking on his seed. He withdraws slowly, smearing her
pretty face with the final hardening trails of sperm. "Now then dad", he says.
"How about we get young Kirsty here to make us a bit of supper? And as for that
tart Suzanne, she can get on the exercise bike and do ten miles to take some of
the fat off her while we eat!" What an enjoyable game "pop tarts" is for the
men!

	

	The Slob was not slow to exploit his captives' natural phobias and to
develop them to reinforce his control. Rita and Mack were of great assistance
and certainly helped to keep the women in a permanent state of apprehension but
the Slob also used Mauler to good effect. Kirsty was terrified of the vicious
dog and Suzanne soon learned to fear the Doberman as well. On one particularly
memorable evening the Slob made the girls minister to the dog's engorged little
cock, sucking on his balls and swallowing his seed. Throughout the unnatural
act, Mauler gave voice to low warning growls of authority which intimidated the
poor young women who were obliged to lie face up on the floor to perform their
service whilst the big black dog straddled their shoulders and glared menacingly
round the room. The dog seemed to understand instinctively what his master
required of him and that this service proved his own superiority to the human
bitches the Slob had chosen to keep in the flat. Whenever a girl displeased him,
he would bend his powerfully muscled jaw down to their bare breasts and deliver
a painful and frightening nip which soon had her sucking harder. Mauler would
love to have been given free reign to satisfy all his appetites.  With Suzanne
in particular he wanted to bite more deeply into the tasty tit flesh which he
was only tormenting, knowing that her breasts would be a very sweet piece of
meat indeed. But he also understood that his master would be angry if he took
such a liberty and so he confined himself to threats. The Slob was absolutely
delighted. When Mauler howled in ecstasy and triumph as his sperm spurted down
Kirsty's throat he knew he would have to repeat the whole evening and capture it
on film to provide extra bonus footage. The blondes were horrified to find the
whole abhorrent episode described as a rehearsal and even more horrified when
they were made to groom Mauler and kiss his feet before repeating their intimate
humiliation for the rerun. The Slob entitled the sequence "A dog keeps his
bitches in line" and it was soon being seen around the world.

	It was very gratifying for the Slob to reflect on the fact that his pet
blondes were not only providing him with a great deal of personal enjoyment but
were keeping his house tidy and making money for him at the same time. All in
all, the Slob reflected his domestic arrangements were highly satisfactory...

	Part 7 - Escape!

	

	One bird flees the coup

	

	There was just one little problem which worried the Slob slightly. From
the original notes which had been stolen with the hypnotic equipment, he
realised that the control regime depended on a number of distinct factors which
had to operate together to reinforce one another. The tapes were certainly
important and they weren't an issue. He had learned how to apply his own
soundtrack over the base sub-liminals. An element of terror and fear was also
easy to maintain. What did give him cause for concern, however, was the supply
of the drugs which were used to boost the effect of the tapes. According to the
experimental notes the drugs were mainly needed to break down a subjects initial
resistance, and he had made sure that Suzanne was properly dosed during the
early stages of her indoctrination. However, a low level of one white powder
ought to be added to the girls' diet on an occasional basis and although he made
sure the food bowls were doctored he was running out...

	As an experiment he began to slowly reduce the dose. At first there was
no apparent change. But then Suzanne made her bid for freedom...

	It happened like this. The Slob had changed his usual morning routine to
indulge himself with Suzanne, giving the blonde a good hard workout which left
her shattered from a couple of powerful convulsive orgasms and himself well
sated and relaxed for the morning's work. In a good humour for once he had
locked Kirsty into her special plastic panties but left Suzanne free, telling
Kirsty she could 'reward' her friend at lunch time by sucking her into a climax.

	"But no playing with yourself before then!", he warned Suzanne. "You
know the rules. You're a filthy little piece but you only have lesbo sex when I
say you can."

	Suzanne hung her head in shame but her heart thudded with illicit
anticipation. She had heard all this before so many times and now she believed
it. She knew that by lunch time she would be aroused again and eager for the
delicate touch of Kirsty's tongue. The horror which would once have filled her
at the very idea of lesbian sex, let alone sex with her friend had now been
repeatedly overcome by the intensity of the sexual desire which her owner could
produce, direct and control. Poor Kirsty was overcome with jealousy and
frustration, knowing that she would be denied any relief for herself.

	As soon as the Slob left the girls began their morning exercises. As
usual, both of them were naked except for their collars, and their bare breasts
bounced prettily as they made vigorous use of the equipment. As she pedalled
away on the exercise bike Suzanne was acutely conscious of the pressure of the
saddle on her exposed sex and she felt herself beginning to juice up. Already,
she longed to slip her fingers into her snatch and work herself over. But she
dare not. Even with the Slob long gone she was afraid of his wrath should he
find she had disobeyed him. The one time she had been caught in self abuse he
had caned her so hard she had thought she would never sit down again - then
she'd been kept in plastic panties for a week, at the end of which she was so
desperate for a cock inside her that she'd begged Mack to take her, sucked him
humbly to orgasm, swallowed all his jism and then spread for him, only to be
humiliated by his complete disregard for her pleasures as he brought her off
with a marrow bone which he later fed to the dog.

	It was more than two hours to lunch time. If he'd left her in the
plastic panties she wouldn't be wanting her 'reward' - a 'reward' which was
rapidly turning the morning into an eternity of sexual frustration. It was all
so unfair!  Even the Slob's apparent beneficence was only another form of subtle
cruelty. How she hated him! If she could only get away for a short while - get
back to her friends - get to the police. Then they could rescue Kirsty and
everything would be back to normal. Back to how it had been before she had
fallen into the clutches of this horrible and evil man.

	Suzanne shook her head and blinked slowly. What was she thinking of? Of
course she hated her captor but until just now she had barely been able to
conceive of disobeying him. Now she was suddenly able to actively entertain
thoughts of escape! The lack of the drug had weakened his hold on her and for
the first time since the Slob had 'broken her in' as he liked to refer to the
completion of her primary conditioning, there was a faint ray of hope in the
cloud of despair.

	Even so, nothing might have happened if the Slob had not been careless.
Normally the wardrobe (where he kept the few clothes in which the girls were
ever dressed) was kept locked whilst he was out of the flat. It was just another
security measure.

	"If the blonde babes are naked they'll think twice before venturing out
onto the street", he explained to Mack one day when he was discussing the
various techniques that all helped to keep his prisoners secure. "They can't
even dream of escaping but it's an extra barrier just in case they were to get
any silly ideas. Besides, there's no need to dress 'em up unless we want to - I
like the French maid uniforms occasionally but for routine, day to day use, a
bare blonde babe is quite adequate don't you think!"

	But this time, Suzanne had got a 'silly' idea. She crept into the
bedroom and found the wardrobe unlocked! Her heart beat rapidly as she scrabbled
for some clothes, trying to assemble the most respectable outfit that she could.
That wasn't at all easy! The Slob only kept clothes which were designed to show
off his toys' sexuality and they were certainly not designed for outdoor wear.
But Suzanne did the best she could, pulling on a pair of sheer black stockings
and suspenders, a ludicrously short mini skirt, a pair of shiny black high heels
and a tight black tee shirt that revealed her bare belly button and was cut low
enough to display a generous slice of cleavage. She looked at herself in the
mirror and gave a grimace, recognising that her appearance was outrageously
provocative. To think that she had recently considered the chance to wear such
clothes as a reward for good behaviour! She wanted to scream, shaking now with a
mixture of fear and rage. Still, there was one more thing she could do. She
slipped her hand behind her neck and managed to undo the hateful dog collar,
which was the most humiliating badge of her slavery, casting it away with a
grimace of disgust.

	In the living room, Kirsty regarded her friend with wide eyes and open
mouth.

	"What are you doing?", she squeaked in horror. "If the Slob catches you,
he'll kill you!"

	Her own conditioning had been in place for that much longer and despite
the reduced dose of the drug, she had not yet reached the point of freedom which
Suzanne now aspired to.

	Suzanne went over to her timid friend and surprised herself by planting
a tender kiss full on her mouth. Evidently some aspects of the conditioning had
persisted and Suzanne finally drew away in a mixture of confusion and blushes.

	"Don't worry, Kirsty, I'm going to get some help. I'll get us both out
of here! Just hang on!"

	Suzanne felt a shiver of fear as she dared to open the door of the flat
and venture outside for the first time in months. It rapidly turned into a
shiver of cold - it was a brisk April day and she was exposing far too much bare
flesh for the weather conditions.

	"I have to get away from here!", she told herself with more urgency than
she would have imagined possible only a few minutes ago. She nearly tripped as
she tottered down the stairs and into the street. If she could get to the
railway station she could get a train back to somewhere she know. This area was
terrible and she was desperate to be anywhere else. At any moment she might
encounter the Slob! She nearly ran to the station in constant fear of discovery.
Reaching the entrance to the platform she heaved a sigh of relief but it was
then that she hit a serious problem. There were no staff at the station but to
get past the unmanned ticket barriers she would need a ticket. She looked round
anxiously at the ticket machines but of course she had no money. In desperation
she considered vaulting over the barriers and she was just trying to climb them
when a loud cough from behind made her stumble backwards, embarrassed as she
realised she had been caught in the act and had showed an indecent slice of leg
in the process.

	"What's the matter dear, can't get your leg over?", said the new arrival
with a low chuckle.

	He was a skinhead in his early twenties with a nasty scar on one cheek
and a nasty leer for Suzanne as she bit her lip and considered anxiously what to
do next. Kirsty would have recognised him as Ricky - an 'enforcer' for the Slob
who had had his way with her at the Slob's 'party', but Suzanne had never seen
him before and although he had never seen or heard of her either, the appearance
of this sexy young woman had aroused more than just his interest.

	"C.. could you,, could you just lend me a pound so I can get on to the
platform?", she pleaded but even as she asked the question she sensed somehow
that it was hopeless.

	"Of course I can't", the skinhead said as if amused by the very idea. "I
can't be a party to a criminal act now can I? It seems to me you'd be trying to
skip on a train next without paying your fare. You look like the type that would
try that."

	It was a horrible feeling but under the cold intelligent gaze of this
horrid man, Suzanne felt all her earlier confidence wither. Suddenly she was as
timid as a mouse again, trembling and scared.

	"Of course", the skin head said thoughtfully as if considering a dubious
possibility, "you could earn your self some money. My guess is that you've got a
cute little body under that outfit of yours. And I bet you've rented it out to a
few customers before today. How about you and me go to the back of my van and
you let me give you a good shagging in return for some travelling money? Does
that sound fair enough?"

	Suzanne was horrified. No sooner had she escaped the clutches of the
Slob than she was being propositioned like some cheap whore. But that was
exactly what she looked like, she realised in despair. How could the man think
anything else when he saw her dressed like this? It was all too much for her.
She wanted to cry but she bit her lip and resisted the urge. There was no
choice. She decided suddenly that she would just have to do it - let this man
have his way with her body and give her the means to escape. After all, the Slob
had done so much to her by now that it surely couldn't be worse to do this of
her own free will? And yet she still felt immeasurably soiled and cheapened as
she bowed her head and let him take her by the hand and lead her out to the
station car park.

	The skinhead had the keys for a large blue transit van painted with the
logos of a builder's merchant. He opened the back door - "get inside and wait
for me!", he said brusquely. "I have to make a phone call."

	She couldn't hear his conversation as she crouched in the corner but it
only took a few moments...

	"Rita? It's Ricky here. Listen, I thought you ought to know that there's
a free lancer working on your patch. Yeah that's right. I haven't seen her here
before and she's not one of yours, I thought you  might like to check it out...
I'm at the station. Give us half an hour, will you..."

	The door opened with a bang and suddenly the man was towering over her.

	"Ready then girlie? Let's get on with it, I haven't got all day..."

	Ricky whistled when he pulled her skirt up and saw Suzanne had no
panties. "Ready for business, eh girl?", he mocked her. He fucked her just as
she was, making the back of the van bounce, squeezing her breasts and planting
unwelcome kisses all over her face.

	"C...C... Can I have my money now", she said after he'd flooded her
flesh with his juices and sat back with a sigh.

	"Not yet", he told her cruelly. "I enjoyed that so much I think I'd like
to have you again. It'd be rude to offend a good customer like me, now wouldn't
it? And this time I want you up the arse!"

	So poor Suzanne was obliged to bend over and lift her skirt for a second
assault. She was sobbing quietly by the time he finished - this had been a much
longer and more brutal invasion and his hands had done even more cruel things to
her breasts as he impaled her, ripping the tee shirt and groping her lush young
body with evident enjoyment and no regard for her own feelings.

	"L.. l.. let me go now!", she finally demanded, but he pushed her back
with a firm kiss.

	Suzanne was beginning to realise that this man had no intention of
paying for the liberties he had taken with her body and she just wanted to get
away. She felt a terrible intimation of horror.

	"Not quite yet girlie", the man said, glancing at his watch. "There's
someone I'd like you to meet. I don't think she'll be very pleased about an
unlicensed newcomer on her territory!"

	"W.. w.. what do you mean?"

	But Suzanne suddenly knew what he meant! She had to get away!

	There was a knock on the back of the van door.

	"Come in"

	Rite McGiven opened the door and when she saw Suzanne in the back of the
van her eyes opened wide.

	"It's you!", she said with a venomous snarl to which Suzanne could only
manage an answering squeak.

	"It seems you too know each other after all", Ricky said with
interest...

	

	It was quite easy for Ricky and Rita to overcome Suzanne's wild but
inadequate thrashing about as she sought to escape. She managed one scream
before the skinhead backhanded her and she fell into a dazed silence. Before she
could recover, Rita had a strangle hold round her neck and was instructing Ricky
to truss her legs and arms with a roll of black tape in the back of the van. In
less than a minute Suzanne was safely bound and gagged.

	"So you've come across this piece of fluff before then?", Ricky said.
"And I gather she isn't your favourite bit of stuff. What's the story and what
are you going to do to her?"

	

	So Rita explained that Suzanne was the Slob's property and told the
story of how she had come into his possession and the deal that the Slob has
struck concerning her 'private' use.

	"I don't blame you for taking advantage of the silly trollop", Rita
concluded. "The daft bitch was asking for it, parading herself on the station
like that. I don't know how she imagined she was going to escape. Still, I'm
sure her owner will be pleased to have her back again and I've no doubt he'll
deal with this piece of wanton disobedience very severely indeed! Before he
starts on the little slut, I think she owes me something for the trouble of
recapturing her. I think I'll have her over my knee and give her a damn good
hiding!"

	And so saying, she removed Suzanne's high heels, bent the squirming and
vulnerable young blonde over her knee and proceeded to beat her bare bottom with
the sole of her own shoes. The high heels proved to be an admirable instrument
of correction, flexible enough to comfortably absorb the shock of each blow but
hard enough to deliver plenty of Rita's venom. Soon Suzanne was sobbing loudly
and he buttocks were glowing bright red and all but blistering from the
punishment.

	

	As Rita had predicted, the Slob was delighted to have Suzanne returned
to the nest. He had returned to the flat for lunch and only just discovered her
escape when Rita and Rick arrived with the thoroughly subdued young woman
wrapped in a black plastic bag and slung over Rick's shoulder like a carpet.

	"Your little bit of stuff, I believe", he said with a grin. "Try and
take more care of her in future will you?"

	The Slob was so relieved to have his prisoner back in custody he wasn't
in the slightest riled by Rick's irritating good humour and promised to buy him
a beer later. When the young thug had gone, however and Suzanne was unwrapped on
the sofa with her eyes wide and terrified it was quite a different story. Now
the Slob could let his anger show. Rita sat beside him with a grim smile on her
face. She was looking forward to witnessing Suzanne's punishment if the Slob
would allow it.

	"Well, young lady", he said. "You have been a very, very naughty little
girlie, haven't you?"

	He stroked her legs and pinched the tender skin on her bare bottom,
making her flinch in pain. "After all I've done for you as well and on the very
day I'd promised you a nice little lunch time 'gasm from your friend Kirsty? It
really is too bad! I've obviously been far too lenient with you, haven't I?"

	His eyes were a steely menace that made Suzanne shiver.

	 "That will have to change now, I'm afraid. I shall spank you, of course
- that goes without saying. And then a dose of the strap and the cane would seem
to be in order and I rather think I shall have you whipped as well but somehow
that doesn't seem enough... Stronger measures are called for! I shall take the
afternoon off to deal with you and my father will help."

	"May I offer a suggestion?", Rita said. She bent to whisper in the
Slob's ear and soon a grin was splitting his face from ear to ear.

	"An excellent idea, Rita. I think that would be most fitting! Do you
have the equipment? Excellent! Yes, we'll begin with that shall we?"

	To Kirsty's astonishment the Slob suddenly grabbed her by the arm and
dragged her over to the sofa.

	"Lick you friend's tits Kirsty!", the Slob ordered. "I want her nipples
stiffened up so they're nice and sensitive."

	The girls had been given many lessons in stimulating one another and the
conditioning was very effective. Despite her dread and ignorance of what was to
come, Suzanne couldn't help herself. When Kirsty began delicately running her
tongue over her breasts Suzanne became rapidly and helplessly aroused and her
nipples were soon in the state the Slob wanted. She hadn't noticed him take hold
of a small metal implement which Rita passed over from her handbag. He pinched
her right nipple sharply and then suddenly applied a staple gun and pierced the
delicate skin. Suzanne screamed, quite unable to keep silent. The Slob completed
the job on the other nipple, ignoring her cries of pain.

	"You're going to be decorated now my dear", he said conversationally.
"Rita has some nice little nipple rings which will look very pretty on your
titties and will help in your punishment!"

	The cruel woman reached into her handbag and brought forth a pair of
tiny metal rings. Suzanne had no opportunity to object as the Slob slipped the
cold metal carefully through the new holes he had pierced in her flesh.

	"Very nice", he said admiring the effect. Now Suzanne was taken into the
bedroom. She was made to kneel on a wooden chair facing the wall. Her arms were
tied high above her head and secured to the ceiling hook where she had been
suspended on the first day the Slob had enjoyed her body. But it was the new
nipple rings which allowed the Slob to refine his punishment of the hapless
young slave girl. He took half an hour to drill and plug two hooks in the wall
then fastened a short metal chain from each one on to the hated rings. The lush
little blonde was now compelled to bend right over the back of the chair to
lessen the dreadful tugging on her breasts. This thrust her bare bottom nicely
into the air and left her head pushed down between her arms. The Slob took two
lengths of twine and wrapped them round the base of Suzanne's breasts tying them
quite tight to make the stretched flesh balloon a little. The other end of the
twine was secured to the wall hooks. If she pulled back from the wall the young
woman could stretch her breasts to a painful degree and might even have torn the
rings away but the twine formed a much stronger bond and the way he had tied it
the Slob was confident that his victim would be unable to pull back far enough
to inflict any permanent damage by tearing her nipples  By now Suzanne was
sobbing in trepidation and promising never to disobey her owner again. But the
Slob was determined to administer a lesson she would never forget. A collar was
fastened around the young woman's neck again and a loop of rope fastened to the
back and secured through the ceiling hook kept her head upright.

	"Perfect", said the Slob as he ran his hand over the vulnerable blonde's
quivering body. Mack had arrived and brought Kirsty into the bedroom to witness
her friend's punishment.

	"What do you think Dad?"

	Suzanne's bottom was displayed in an ideal position for beating. Her
breasts were nicely separated and pulled out into a degree of tension which left
them deliciously exposed for any punishment they wanted to meet out. And she
could not escape.

	"I think the tart needs sorting out", said Mack. "Let's get to it!"

	The Slob was as good as his word and beat Suzanne with all the
instruments he had threatened her with. Father and son took it in turns to apply
the punishment. Sometimes one would attend to her bottom whilst the other beat
her breasts but the men always allowed time for their victim to relax between
the application of each implement so that she had partially recovered and was
capable of feeling the full impact of each new tool. When they delivered
simultaneous punishment, her bottom was always treated to the harsher of two
instruments and they went comparatively easy on her mammary glands so as not to
inflict any permanent damage. But even the relatively mild beatings which they
did deliver were bad enough and soon the fat globes of her breasts were
decorated with multiple pink lines of agony.

	 The men started lightly with the strap and bare hands, graduated to a
switch and strap, a crop and the switch, the cane and the crop and finally the
whip and the cane.

	Whilst she was being beaten, the Slob stuck a sheet of paper on the wall
in Suzanne's eye line.

	"This is a little reminder of your position", he told her. "I want you
to memorise it. And you'd better be word perfect when I ask you to say it!"

	Kirsty watched the beatings over the long afternoon in horror and
terror. The sobbing girl was made to repeat the long mantra of abject apology
printed on the wall, time after time. Poor Suzanne found the whole experience
unbelievably painful and humiliating. She would never ever disobey her owner
again!

	But even when they were finished with the beating the men had one final
excruciating degradation for Suzanne. Kept in the punishment position, the raw
and acutely sensitive skin of her left buttock was tattooed with a black die,
which Mack applied with a sharp needle.

	"Property of the Slob. If found, please spank this arse and return it to
its rightful owner."

	Only in the early evening did the Slob finally relent, letting the girl
down to kneel at his feet and utter her pretty speech one more time. He was very
gratified by the feeling she put into it, convinced that for the moment at any
rate she believed it.

	

	"The Slob is my master. He owns this body to do with as he wants. It is
merely a convenient fuck toy for him to play with. He owns my tits, my mouth, my
legs, my bottom, my bum hole and my cunt. I am a stupid slut and only fit to be
used as an instrument of my master's desire or for the gratification of his
friends. I am a worthless damp little tramp and I do not deserve any relief for
my own wanton animal cravings. I will keep my hands away from the pleasure
portal between my legs unless my master tells me otherwise because he owns it
and self-abuse is abuse of my master's property. My owner is right to punish me
whenever I make him angry. If my owner sees fit to permit me an orgasm I will
climax promptly and thank him sincerely for the privilege. I will obey the Slob
at all times and I will keep this body in good condition and ready for him
whenever he wants to use it."

	

	"Very good", said the Slob. "You seem to understand your role here at
last. I shall have you repeat that speech every morning and strap you once for
every word that isn't perfect."

	Then he slipped his swollen cock into her mouth and let her suck it
gratefully, swallowing his sperm as he squirted it down her throat.

	"By all means make use of the silly tart this week if you want too Dad",
he said as he zipped himself up and fastened Suzanne's collar round her neck
again. "But keep it to anal or oral and don't let her come. A week of
frustration is part of her punishment."

	

	He turned to Kirsty, who had been made to watch her friend's ordeal in
silence.

	"Now, my naughty little maid, I'd better deal with you, hadn't I? Don't
think you're getting away with it! You should never have let your friend get out
of the flat. Bend over the table! My friend Michael wants a few words with your
bottom my dear!"

	Part 8 - A Profitable Venture

	 

	In which the Slob finds a new way to make money from his pretty slave
girls.

	

	"Come here girls!", the Slob said. "I have something to tell you."

	It was two months after Suzanne's ill fated escape attempt and the
Slob's household had returned to its settled routine. It was early evening, just
after tea time. The Slob had his feet up watching the telly. Kirsty was washing
the dishes and Suzanne had been given the job of cleaning the carpet, a task
which she was expected to perform with a dust pan and brush on her hands and
knees. The Slob certainly didn't believe in wasting electricity on a vacuum
cleaner or on any labour saving devices when he could get as much free labour as
he wanted from his slave girls. All his clothes were washed and ironed by hand
and woe betide the girls if he didn't have a choice of clean pressed and ironed
shirts every morning.

	Both girls immediately stopped their work; Suzanne was already on all
fours but Kirsty dropped down to the same position and the two slave girls
crawled towards their owner like pet cats. The Slob had taught them to approach
him in this way - humbly with their heads down. He unzipped his trousers and
eased his cock out into a comfortable position, spreading his legs so that
Kirsty and Suzanne could both crouch between his knees. Soon he was luxuriating
in the delicious sensation of two delicate pink tongues lapping at his scrotum.
Each girl had responsibility for one of his balls, kissing and sucking at the
ripe flesh whilst his rod rapidly expanded to rigid attention between their
faces. He ran his hand lightly though both girl's hair. He hadn't decided which
one he'd shaft yet, but one of them would get a good seeing to before the
evening was over.

	

	Suzanne's recapture and brutal punishment proved to be a significant
development in the nature of her behaviour thereafter. It was the moment which
marked her final and complete surrender to the Slob's total authority over every
aspect of her life. It wasn't that she hadn't been obedient before - of course
she had. And she'd been an excellent and responsive instrument of pleasure too.
But there'd always been a part of her which held back in the hope of escape and
which preserved the higher centres of thought. Now that part was gone and
Suzanne had regressed to little more than simple animal responses to the
pleasure and pain which her owner doled out to her according to his whim. It
amused the Slob to think that he had effectively turned Suzanne into little more
than a pet bitch, anxious to please him, terrified of his displeasure and
utterly incapable of contemplating resistance. But even as he made full use of
the girl's voluptuous body he was paradoxically also disappointed that her
willing compliance now robbed him of the entertainment of playing with her mind.
In this sense, Kirsty was a more amusing toy because she still retained a
refined sense of fear which was capable of appreciating future agonies and
humiliations beyond the eternal present to which Suzanne's mind was now
confined. The Slob realised the Kirsty was well aware of the change in the
nature of her friend's thought processes and he liked to torment her with the
prospect that she could be reduced to the same state whenever he wanted. He had
no intention of doing it of course. It would have been almost a blessing to let
her escape into unthinking obedience and he preferred to keep her fully aware of
the horror of his control. This was especially satisfying when he had the girls
pleasure one another for his gratification.

	

	"There will be two important visitors coming to inspect you tomorrow",
the Slob said. "I want you both on your best behaviour. One of you will be
selected for breeding."

	

	Sir Jeremy Hardcrop was a short hatchet faced man in his early thirties
with thin lips and iron grey hair. When he smiled (which was seldom) his
subordinates quailed. His wife, Lady Patricia Hardcrop was the same age as her
husband. She was a tall brunette, beautiful in a carefully sculptured way but
with an underlying cruelty that mirrored the mind set of her spouse. The
aristocratic pair were hardly aware that places such as the grim suburb in which
the Slob lived even existed but on a cold day in late April they had chosen to
visit him in his tower block.

	

	"There are the two bitches are they?", Sir Jeremy drawled, enjoying the
sight of Kirsty and Suzanne standing on parade in the bed room. The girls were
naked of course, apart from the dog collars round their necks which marked their
status as animals. They had been instructed to stand with their legs apart and
to keep their heads up and their eyes facing forward. With their hands clasped
behind their heads their bare breasts and smoothly shaved loins were prominently
displayed and they made a very erotic spectacle.

	"They look like a right pair of tarts!", Lady Patricia said
contemptuously, "But I suppose they might do for you, eh darling?"

	Sir Jeremy was secretly delighted with the appearance of the two slave
girls. He had only half believed the story he'd been told about their capture
and subjugation and at best he had expected to find a couple of cheap scrubbers
working for a malicious pimp. He'd only come out of and idle and perverse
curiosity but from what he'd seen it seemed that the Slob had been telling the
truth. And if so he really did possess a pair of very fine assets indeed...

	"What are their names?", he asked.

	"The one with the fat jugs is Suzanne and the other slut is Kirsty", the
Slob said. "I keep them on the pill of course but if you want to use one of 'em
for breeding then they should both be fertile. Why don't you have a feel and see
which one you like?"

	It was an invitation which Sir Jeremy could not refuse. Suzanne was
trembling visibly as the aristocrat walked around her, for all the world as if
he were examining some live stock for prospective purchase. He took her breasts
in his hands and lifted and squeezed them speculatively, relishing the soft
vulnerability of the plump flesh. Then he ran his hands over her thighs,
appraising the texture and shape of her bottom.

	"Not bad", he murmured. "This one has good child bearing hips. I fancy
she'd drop a brat without too many problems."

	The Slob noted Suzanne's reaction with considerable interest. It seemed
that the prospect of Sir Jeremy's attentions had revived some of her natural
horror at her situation. She might have surrendered herself completely to the
Slob but she still had some feelings left it would seem.

	Sir Jeremy moved on to Kirsty and this time let one long index finger
penetrate the girl's sex. She whimpered as he twisted it inside her.

	"That one's a good fuck", the Slob said. "I think you'd enjoy riding her
even though she is a bit on the skinny side compared to the other bitch."

	"What do you think darling?", Sir Jeremy asked his wife. Patricia walked
between the girls appraising them coldly. In an elegant cashmere sweater, a thin
grey pencil skirt, white stockings and mat black high heels the smartly dressed
aristocrat made a marked contrast to the two hapless blondes. She reached out
with her left and right hand and ran them over both bodies simultaneously,
stroking and pinching breasts ,thighs and buttocks. When she reached their loins
she didn't hesitate to slip her neatly manicured fingers inside and tease both
clitorises at the same time. Soon Kirsty and Suzanne were struggling not to
wriggle in response to the merciless stimulation and they both began to breath
in ragged gasps, their nipples visibly hardening and their bodies clearly
wracked with the need for sexual release.

	"They're damp little tramps aren't they?", she said with some amusement.

	"It's an artefact of their conditioning", the Slob explained. "I keep
them at a constant low level of arousal so they are always easy to bring up to
temperature when I want to give 'em a going over."

	"Doesn't that give you problems with them playing with themselves?", Sir
Jeremy asked. "I find it a disgusting habit in a girl if she even thinks of
using her own fingers to please herself. That sort of self abuse must be hard to
prevent when they are always simmering."

	"Oh no", the Slob said with a smile. "They've learned the hard way what
happens if I catch them messing about between their legs. The cane and the strap
are such excellent teachers, I find!"

	Patricia withdrew her fingers without allowing either girl to climax.

	"They both seem like good prospects", Patricia said. "Which do you
prefer darling?"

	"Ummm. It's hard to choose", her husband responded. "Remember, we're
doing this for us. We both want a child and since you can't conceive this is
better than adoption. If I get one of these little bitches pregnant then you
will remember that won't you darling. I'm doing it for us."

	"Of course", Patricia said. "I know that but there's no reason why you
shouldn't enjoy yourself in the process is there?"

	Sir Jeremy's rapidly stiffening sexual organ was answer enough to this
rhetorical question. He was anxious to experience the pleasures on offer now.

	"Why not try them both out", the Slob said like a used car salesman
offering a test drive to a prospective customer. The aristocrat was only too
keen to take the Slob up on his proposal and suggested giving Kirsty a seeing
too first. He took her into the bedroom leaving the other three to wait in the
living room.

	Patricia continued to stroke Suzanne's hair, face and neck, crooning in
her ear. "You're a lovely little mammal aren't you? I bet the boys used to enjoy
you! It's just as well your master took you in hand!" The Slob smiled. He could
see that both his customers were hooked on the girls already. It was going well!

	"They've both been trained to use their tongues on one another", he said
carefully. "I'm not suggesting you're interested in that, of course but you'd
find either of the wenches quite capable of entertaining you in that way if you
were so inclined."

	"Indeed", Patricia said, and the Slob knew he had hit his target.

	

	Meanwhile Jeremy was assessing Kirsty in a more intimate way. "I have
some questions for you, my dear", he said. "Sit on my knee whilst we talk." The
aristocrat sat on the edge of the bed and patted his lap. A trembling Kirsty did
as she was told and Sir Jeremy let her settle uneasily before he reached round
and took her left breast firmly between the fingers of his left hand. "Good
girl", he said, feeling his organ swell with pleasure at her sweetly submissive
response.  She had a lovely body and the Slob had obviously made great changes
to a natural behaviour, which would have resisted any such advances from a total
stranger.  He slipped his fingers down to her sex, feeling her shake with
anxiety

	"Keep still whilst I find your nubbin girl!", he said sharply. "I need
to have my finger on your pulse so I can tell if you're lying to me." His index
finger invaded her then, pushing forcefully into the soft folds of her moist sex
flesh until it found the swollen bud at her centre. Kirsty gasped as he pressed
relentlessly against the ultimate sensitivity that trembled and sweated with a
delirious mixture of humiliation and need. "Now girl", the aristocrat said with
a cruel smile. "We're sitting comfortably and we can begin. I want you to tell
me all about yourself and how you came into the possession of the ugly but
seemingly very clever gentleman who now owns you. Start at the beginning. I
believe your keeper picked you up on a train? Jeremy listened to Kirsty's story
with a great deal of interest and not a little pleasure. He could tell
instinctively that she wasn't just spinning some yarn. No, this was the full
truth - or at least the truth to the extent that the Slob allowed Kirsty to
remember. Her anxious little movements on his lap betrayed her hatred of the
situation but she clearly felt she had no choice but to obey him simply because
the Slob had told her to. The luscious little office worker had been turned into
a perfect sexual slave. The aristocrat felt his cock hardening against the
girl's thigh and the more she told him of her fate the more aroused he became.
Finally he had to fuck her. He simply pushed her onto the bed, parted her legs
and humped her until they both came together. Kirsty needed her orgasm and was
in no position to argue about how she got it!

	"You really have been a very stupid little slut haven't you?", Sir
Jeremy said as he slid off her. "No wonder your master had to take charge of
you. You've a very pretty little body there my dear but if you'd been left to
your own devices it would have gone to waste. Luckily you seem to have found a
capable steward to look after you and see that you're kept fit and eager to do
the job you're most suited for - servicing a man's cock! Now sit on my knee
again and tell me how you feel about your owner. Would you like me to take you
away?"

	Bullseye! As Kirsty nestled against him like a frightened bird, Sir
Jeremy knew that his last remark had struck home with a vengeance. The hapless
blonde was trembling with a strange mixture of revulsion and hope! She must hate
her captor so much that the chance of a change was a prospect she desired almost
at all costs. Perhaps she thought she could escape from his clutches?

	"Would you like to be my little breeder, Kirsty? I'd pump you full of
seed and impregnate you so my wife and I could have a child. You wouldn't have
any rights to your baby. You'd only be a convenient womb to save my wife the
pain of labour and to bring our child to term. We'd keep you in the kennels with
the other bitches. We'd feed you with the dogs, and walk you and exercise you.
And if you were a very good little girlie we might let you wait at the table
with the maids and wash the dishes. Would you like that?"

	He ran his hands over the flesh he had so recently enjoyed as he spoke,
whispering the terrible words in her ear, stroking breasts, belly and thigh and
gauging her heart beat and her breathing with a refined sense of cruelty. To his
astonishment he sensed that Kirsty would like his terms - or perhaps more
accurately she preferred him to the Slob. She thought she might escape from him.
That was the nub of it. He played with her recently lubricated sex making his
fingers sticky.

	"Lick them clean", he ordered Kirsty, and the submissive blonde began to
suck his digits as his lifted them to her mouth.

	"We shall have to see", he told her. "I need to fuck your friend first
to see if she is more suitable for my needs. Up you get now!"

	Kirsty stood up and he slapped her bottom sharply. "Run along and ask
your owner nicely to send the other bitch to me, there's a good girl."

	Sir Jeremy chuckled as he watched Kirsty's pink bottom scurry to the
bedroom door. She was a fine animal right enough and she'd certainly do the job
but perhaps there was a better alternative?

	

	Whilst Sir Jeremy was enjoying himself with Kirsty, the Slob kept up
polite conversation with Patricia. "Make us a cup of tea, bitch!", he ordered
Suzanne and the slave girl hastened to obey. The aristocrat was a lovely woman -
smart, attractive and sophisticated. The Slob detected something of a kindred
spirit in the hard line of her jaw and the steely glint in her eyes when she
contemplated his slave girls and knew that either of them would be in for a
terrible time if they fell in to her clutches. She reminded him of a younger,
sexier and more intelligent version of Rita McGoven and he felt himself harden
at the thought of what it might be like to enjoy her. He would have relished the
prospect of seeing some girl on girl action with Suzanne. This time, however,
the Slob was outclassed. Lady Hardcrop did things for her own pleasure and for
the benefit of her husband but certainly not for anyone else.

	"I notice this one has had her nipples pierced", the aristocrat said.
"Did you do that?"

	"Yes", the Slob confirmed, and he told her the story of Suzanne's escape
attempt and subsequent punishment which Lady Hardcrop seemed to find most
amusing. The tea was ready and a trembling Suzanne poured two cups for her owner
and his guest. As she bent to attend to Lady Hardcrop the older woman ran her
hand lightly over the young blonde's bottom.

	"She has a fat arse. It must take a great deal of spanking!"

	"Indeed", the Slob said piously.

	They were interrupted by the arrival of Kirsty from the bedroom.

	"P... p... please?", she murmured, fearful as always of speaking without
permission.

	"Yes",  the Slob drawled. "What is it girl? Spit it out!"

	"T.. the gentleman would like Suzanne now."

	"Then you'd better got to him girl", the Slob said.

	Lady Hardcrop gave Suzanne a none too playful parting slap on the rump
that echoed the one her husband had just delivered to Kirsty, although she did
not know it. "Off you go, bitch! My husband's waiting and he isn't a patient
man. And you!", she said sharply addressing Kirsty. "Come here and sit on my
lap! I want a word with you."

	So in the space of a few minutes Kirsty was again perched on the lap of
someone who meant her no good. Husband and wife had both had her in this
position; the humiliating place of an errant child.

	"Now then my dear", Patricia said when an unhappy and nervous Kirsty had
settled into position. "Tell me what it was like to have my husband's John
Thomas stuck up your sticky twat! You loved it didn't you, you horny little
slut!"

	Poor Kirsty!  She knew immediately that there was no right answer to
this question! She looked round nervously at the Slob, licking her lips but he
just smiled. There would be no help from that quarter.

	"Err... er...", she began helplessly.

	

	Meanwhile Suzanne was providing considerable entertainment for Sir
Jeremy. The cruel aristocrat subjected the younger woman to the same tests as
Kirsty, savouring the similarity of her enslaved responses as well as the
differences between the two blondes' beautiful bodies and the history of their
respective captures. He teased her about the nature of her friendship with
Kirsty to ascertain how she felt about the 'treachery' of her capture and her
conditioning into lesbian lust.  To his delight she hated talking about it and
was clearly discomforted by his insistent questioning but she answered in the
end.

	 Suzanne was every bit as luscious as her friend and just as the Slob
had come to appreciate the soft curves of her voluptuous and yielding young
flesh, so Sir Jeremy in turn rapidly found himself charmed by the buxom naked
girl who had been rendered so delightfully biddable by her nasty captor. Kirsty
had a more elfin and refined loveliness, with longer legs and sweetly juicy
bosoms but Suzanne was definitely the more pneumatic fuck, with paler skin and
meatier curves, and the aristocrat took great pleasure in humping her to a mind
shattering orgasm.  Unlike Kirsty he sensed that she had come to some sort of
accommodation with her lowly status and actually feared any changes. It was a
sign of just how low the Slob had brought her. "Come on then bitch", he said
when he was sated at last. "We'd better return to the others and I can let you
know my verdict!"

	

	A most erotic spectacle greeted Sir Jeremy as he led Suzanne back to the
kitchen. Kirsty was bent over the table, her arms stretched out and held by the
Slob whilst his wife was beating her bottom with a wooden spoon.

	"Lying little slut!", Patricia said with venom as she punished the
hapless girl. "You loved your seeing to and you weren't there to enjoy it! If my
husband has his pleasure that's fair enough; he has a job to do and I don't see
why he shouldn't get some job satisfaction. But you are only here to service men
and not to gratify your sticky little lusts, so keep your self under control
when you're being ridden next time!"

	She swiped the wooden spoon at its rapidly reddening target as she said
these words and Kirsty bucked in pain and couldn't help but wriggle. Quite
delightful, Sir Jeremy thought.

	

	"Have you made your mind up, sir?", the Slob asked. "Let me have these
two entertain us for a moment whilst you come to a decision, eh?"

	Kirsty was sobbing softly and Sir Jeremy felt Suzanne's fingers clench
in his hand.

	"Kirsty! Suzanne! Sit on the sofa over there. Not like that! I want you
to spit one another. You know how don't you?"

	The Slob's guests watched the 'spitting' intrigued. This turned out to
be the Slob's own slang for a most erotic piece of mutual stimulation between
his two slave girls. Suzanne sat down first and put right her hand out beside
her, palm upwards with her index finger sticking straight into the air. Kirsty
was now obliged to lower herself carefully onto it, so that her bottom hole was
penetrated and impaled by her friend. In turn she used her left hand to ease her
own finger into Suzanne's rectum. The expression on the two girls' faces as they
felt their friend's finger violate their sweet back passages was most comical
and all the watchers enjoyed the mixture of disgust, squeamish reluctance and
unwanted arousal which crossed their delicate features.

	"Now fondle your partner's titties with your free hand!", the Slob
ordered. "And lets see some kissing and licking but no climaxes until I tell
you, you can!"

	The girls obeyed. They really had no choice. It wasn't their obedience
that impressed Sir Jeremy, however. He had already begun to appreciate the depth
of their thraldom. What impressed Sir Jeremy was the evidence of their speedy
arousal. Both girls had been given a sound seeing too in the last half hour and
Kirsty had then been thrashed by his wife and yet already they were clearly
becoming stimulated again. Their nipples were hardening as they softly squeezed
each other's breasts and their breathing was becoming quicker again.

	"What a pair of horny sluts!", the aristocrat said in frank admiration.

	"Gobbledegook"

	"I beg your pardon!"

	"Sorry Sir Jeremy", the Slob explained with a smile. "I didn't mean you,
it was for the benefit of the sluts."

	He went on to explain how the key word Gobbledegook prevented Kirsty and
Suzanne from understanding anything that was said around them until they heard
the matching code words which allowed them to comprehend the English language
again.

	"Interesting", Lady Hardcrop said.

	"And useful on occasion, not to mention amusing sometimes when Mack and
I want to plan something special as a surprise for the girls. This time, I want
to tell you all about the practicalities of keeping them tame and there's no
need to take an unnecessary security risk by letting them know anything they
shouldn't be bothering their pretty blonde heads about. Mostly of course, I
don't care what I say to them because they can do fuck all about it!"

	He laughed. Kirsty gasped as Suzanne chose that moment to wriggle the
finger inside her older friend's bottom, making the young woman shift awkwardly
in frustration and shame.

	For the next ten minutes, the Slob explained the necessary procedures to
keep the tame girls domesticated. He described how and when to inject them (a
rare requirement) the pills they needed to take and the daily program of
hypnosis, which constantly reinforced their subservience and docility.

	"It's not that they don't perceive their plight and want to escape", he
said, "it's that as soon as they try to formulate any sort of plan they become
filled with despair at the hopelessness of it all and soon give in."

	The two slaves were now wriggling like fish on the hooks of their
crooked fingers. The first signs of desperation at their inability to come were
already showing in their eyes as they kissed and caressed one another.

	"I'd like to finish with a little experiment", the Slob said. "This is
something I've been working on recently. It's another code word which only works
when they are in Gobbledegook mode. The idea is to provide an accelerated and
more flexible way of introducing latent behaviour than can be achieved through
the hypnotic inductions. When I say the new code word the girls will take on
board everything that is said until the closing counter word but will be unaware
of the orders. To them, it will seem as of they have acquired new spontaneous
desires which they have to fulfil. They will have no idea that those desires
come from me. Let's give it a try shall we?"

	"Channel Subliminal"

	Kirsty and Suzanne paused for a moment as the Slob bent over them.

	"In a few moments when I end this mode you will become more aroused than
ever", he told them. "You will remember the sperm from your recent fucking
inside your sticky little snatches and Sir Jeremy's cream will suddenly seem
like the most delicious drink in the world. You will feel very thirsty. Very
thirsty indeed. You will get the idea that you can drink the remains of Sir
Jeremy's sperm from one another's cunts. You will know that this is wrong
because I have forbidden you to kiss your snatches but you will be unable to
resist this overwhelming desire and after a few moments you will both succumb,
roll into position and begin to frantically lick and suck one another's sweet
little twats. This will make you both incredibly horny and you will juice up but
you will still be unable to climax until your bottom is struck by a firm hand.
Then you will roll over to allow access to your friend's bottom and you will
achieve orgasm instantly and messily.

	Channel Subliminal off."

	The Slob and his clients were now treated to a quite remarkable display
of restrained eroticism which gradually collapsed into uncontrolled desperate
passion. Sir Jeremy greatly enjoyed the conflicting emotions which passed over
the girls' faces as three opposing behaviours fought for control of their
delicious young bodies. Underlying everything there were still intriguing traces
of their original natural reticence and a reluctance to engage in a sexual act
and orientation they would once have found profoundly disturbing but which now
clearly turned them both on.  For the most part this reluctance had been
overridden by the new desires which they were now struggling to satisfy but the
third element of total obedience to the Slob's orders was acting very
effectively to restrain them. Or rather it was at first. But after a time the
watchers could see the "subliminal channel" reinforcing their mutual sexual
desire to an unbearable and irresistible extent. The little blondes began to
moan and wriggle more passionately and soon they were at breaking point. Kirsty
was the first to crack, pushing Suzanne down on the couch and forcing her head
between the younger girl's thighs. Suzanne gasped and withdrew her finger from
her friend's bottom. She twisted frantically on the couch, squirming into
position. In a matter of seconds the girls were licking and sucking one
another's sex with frantic abandon. But they still couldn't come.

	Kirsy was on top. Her lean buttocks were glowing a most fetching shade
of pink from the punishment Patricia had administered. They clenched and relaxed
as Suzanne worked her tongue inside her sex.

	"What a lot of gasping and moaning!", Sir Jeremy said. He brought his
hand down to deliver a sharp spank full across Kirsty's bottom. The effect was
electric and exactly as programmed. The rutting pair rolled over and Kirsty was
wracked by a violent orgasm. Sir Jeremy immediately struck Suzanne's exposed
rump a hard blow. With her friend now writhing in ecstasy beneath her, Suzanne
now let out an involuntary squeal and shook to her own mind shattering climax.
It took a full minute for the shuddering slaves to regain their natural
breathing and begin to contemplate with horror the nature of their disobedience.

	"Pretty Dolls", the Slob said ominously, allowing them to understand him
again. "You've been bad, bad little girlies haven't you? I'll have you both
strapped for that later. But for now let's see if Sir Jeremy has made his mind
up. Which of 'em is it to be, eh?"

	Sir Jeremy looked at the frightened young women. They were a delicious
pair - much better than he had ever supposed. Clearly the Slob had taken two
pretty young women out of their normal lives and subjected them to a most
effective form of conditioning. It was almost a shame to break them up as they
made such a splendid pair but he only needed one for his purposes. Kirsty looked
almost eager. She was plainly desperate to be free of the Slob. Suzanne on the
other hand seemed anxious.  She was a bouncy young specimen but Kirsty had a
certain svelte beauty which he personally preferred.

	 Decisions, decisions. In the end, Sir Jeremy was moved by the thought
that Suzanne's body was perhaps better suited to child bearing . As an added
bonus he also felt a cruel pleasure in disturbing any precious and tenuous
accommodation she might have managed to reach with the Slob and in thwarting
Kirsty's ill founded hopes for escape.

	"I'll have the fat bitch. Suzanne", he said. "Subject to my doctor
checking her out of course."

	When he saw the mingled disappointment and fear crossing the girls'
faces he felt his prick harden in triumph and knew he had made the right choice.

	"Of course", the Slob said. He was very pleased. This would be an
excellent money spinning deal. "You can pick her up on Thursday once we've taken
care of the finances. That leaves us three days to arrange her farewells and to
pack her."

	

	The three days that followed were a time of intense pleasure, pain and
anguish for the lovely slave girl and her friend. The Slob was as good as his
word and thrashed both girls soundly with the strap to punish them for their
forbidden display of 'shameless sucking'. The poor blondes wept bitterly,
knowing that they were guilty but quite unable to understand how they had
succumbed to their unnatural lust. It had been some time since either young
woman had experienced the harsh kiss of leather on their bottoms and they had
forgotten how painful it could be.

	Mack expressed a little doubt about the venture, knowing that he would
miss the pleasures of Suzanne's ripe young body. Father and son had both come to
prefer the pneumatic attractions of the more buxom little blonde to the
undoubted charms of her older friend. The Slob consoled him.

	"We're not selling her Dad, just renting out her womb for a while. The
pregnancy will put some milk in her tits. I for one, am looking forward to
sucking it out of her once she's dropped the brat and she's back with us. In the
mean time we still have Kirsty to service us."

	Poor Suzanne had to suffer a number of brutal sexual sessions in her
last two days with the Slob. Mack and his son both wanted to make full use of
her before she was sent on to Sir Jeremy and she was given several good pumpings
and three hearty buggerings followed in one memorable case by a tit wank in
which her rider made use of short chains attached to her nipple rings to press
her breasts against his happy rod. She was a sticky mess afterwards and it was a
good job that Kirsty was on hand to lick Mack's sperm from her thoroughly
ravaged flesh. The Slob invited Ricky round for a farewell fuck and of course
Suzanne had to say a polite goodbye to Mauler which meant that she had to use
her tongue to bring him to orgasm and let his slimy dog come slide down her
throat. The dog growled menacingly at her as the thoroughly cowed blonde
performed this intimate service for him.

	 Kirsty was given her own chance to say a special goodbye to her friend.
"Since you're such a pair of horny dykes you'd better do what you do best." The
Slob provided a double headed dildo which Kirsty was ordered to strap on and
accommodate inside her own sex before forcing the wicked implement into
Suzanne's softest place. She was then instructed to grind her hips against her
friend, giving Suzanne a sound stuffing with the harshly knobbed instrument.
This provided the Slob with a good opportunity to take some interesting
photographs. The girls were distressed but aroused by their imposed lesbian
desires and gave in to them fully. They were soon kissing and sucking at one
another's breasts and their bellies and thighs were pushing eagerly together as
they moved their loins with an urgent yearning for release. The Slob had given
them permission to climax as it was a special occasion and they did so,
frequently and with much mutual moaning and sighing.  There was a tender tension
to this pleasuring. Usually forbidden to speak and kept aroused and frustrated
this opportunity to give and receive gratification from one another without
punishment clearly excited both girls. The only means of expression now
permitted to them was the strictly controlled sensual deployment of their nubile
young bodies. Taking advantage of this chance they showed the only form of
solidarity that was open to them. They knew that a parting was near and this
stimulated their loyalty and affection for one another.

	The Slob found the whole show highly erotic and had to use Suzanne's
bottom to slake his lust again when he called a halt to it.

	At last it was time to pack Sir Jeremy's rented flesh up for her
journey. The aristocrat had sent a wire cage for his new pet and the blonde
captive was stowed inside with her ankles and wrists tied to the metal mesh. 
The Slob managed to find the original pair of panties that Suzanne had been
wearing when she was first taken into captivity. He pinched her nose and when
she opened her mouth wide to breath, carefully pushed the white cotton down her
throat and completed the gag with a loop of sticky tape. Kirsty was dressed up
for the occasion too, in self support black stockings and high heels.

	Sir Jeremy and his wife arrived to pick their new slave up at 11 o'clock
and were pleased to find her already stowed in the cage and ready for departure. 
Patricia opened the door and tormented the pretty young slave, running her hands
over the blonde's bare body and letting her elegantly cool nails scratch over
the woman's clean shaven sex.

	"All ready to hump yourself pregnant are we?", she cooed menacingly. "I
hope so my dear! For your sake!"

	If you had been passing a certain run down tower block on a wet winter
morning and had happened to glance up to the fourth floor you would have seen a
very strange sight indeed. A young woman was hanging out of the window looking
for all the world like a ship's figure head with her torso completely naked, her
arms behind her back and trapped under the window and her bare breasts swinging
in the wind and rain. It was Kirsty of course. The Slob had allowed her to view
Suzanne's departure from his window using the maid's bottom to entertain his
rampant todger whilst she watched her friend being loaded up into the back of
the Hardcrop's estate car. The Slob ran his hands up and down Kirsty's stocking
clad thighs as he pumped in and out of her rump, enjoying the now familiar
pleasures of buggering his blonde plaything. Kirsty sobbed as she watched her
friend being driven away. That was the last time she ever saw Suzanne again...

	Part 9 - Good Breeding

	

	It's the mark of a true aristocrat to recognise good breeding. And to
manage it...

	

	The afternoon sun slants through the third floor bedroom window of
Lonemoor Manor where Lady Patricia Hardcrop sits before her dressing table
mirror with a comb in one hand and a mobile phone in the other. The beautiful
aristocrat is only half dressed. She is gossiping to her friend Lavinia Tremming
whilst she completes a lazy morning's preparations for breakfast. Lady Hardcrop
leans back on her stool and stretches one elegant stocking clad leg with
careless disregard for the soft pressure that meets her foot where it pushes
against the most delicate skin of another woman's vulnerable body. There is a
low anguished whimper from the floor that makes the aristocrat chuckle. Suzanne
crouches below the dressing table like a living footstool, completely naked and
with her face pressed to Lady Hardcrop's leg. The older woman's toes are now
invading the blonde's sweetly swollen snatch and the aristocrat wriggles them
luxuriously inside their living slipper of hot and moist girl flesh. Suzanne
gasps. Although Lady Hardcrop's stockings are of the finest nylon mesh, the
material seems to rasp like sandpaper over Suzanne's acutely sensitive skin and
when the aristocrat's painted toenail scratches sharply over the swollen nubbin
of her clitoris she feels a shock of frustration shoot through her body, but the
luckless blonde dare not climax.

	"You must come round and see her", Patricia is saying. "She's quite a
shameless little trollop but she'll serve our purpose, I'm sure."

	Now that she has found the heart of Suzanne's sex, Lady Hardcrop sets
about it with malicious energy, waggling her big toe up and down so that the
long nail repeatedly scrapes an agonising line of pleasure over the tiny fleshy
bud that is Suzanne's clitoris, strumming it up and down and applying the most
exquisite pressure. This is too much for the girl. Suzanne knows that it is
wrong for her to have an orgasm without permission from Lord or Lady Hardcrop.
She has been told so, over and over again. But under this provocation she cannot
help herself. She succumbs and comes with a pitiful little squeak and a
strangled moan of surrender to her body's base needs. Her loins quake with
release. She feels like a naughty child who's wet her panties - humiliated,
desperate and about to cry.

	"Bad girl!" Lady Hardcrop chastises the blonde. She withdraws her foot
and inspects it. "Lick my toes clean", she orders, presenting her foot for a
softly sobbing Suzanne to apply her tongue to it. The lovely blonde slave does
as she's told, kissing the sheer nylon and tasting the shameful juices of her
own prohibited spending. Perversely she still feels aroused. She would like to
rub her hands between her legs but it is not allowed.

	Later she is draped over her mistress's knee for punishment. Lady
Hardcrop traces the lines of Suzanne's tattoo...

	"Property of the Slob. If found, please spank this arse and return it to
its rightful owner."

	The blonde's bottom is beaten soundly with a hard wooden hairbrush in
accordance with the instructions. Suzanne wants to cry but bites her lip. If she
tries harder maybe Lady Hardcrop won't be so cruel in future. 'At least I've
escaped from the Slob,' she thinks.

	

	Lord Hardcrop has a bath every morning at 8 o'clock and Suzanne has the
job of attending to him. She is dressed in shiny black high heels and sheer
black stockings and suspenders. She runs the bath punctually and waits with a
set of crisp white towels as her master climbs into the warm water. Sir Jeremy
enjoys the sight of an efficient and apprehensive young maid waiting to do his
bidding, her bare breasts prominently displayed in the steaming heat of the
bathroom. She passes him the soap when instructed and she helps him to wash his
limbs. When he gets out of the bath she dries him off. It's like a refined
version of the use the Slob used to make of her in the shower. It's still
demeaning of course. Sir Jeremy treats her with an indifference bordering on
contempt but he is rarely actively cruel to her. 'At least I've escaped from the
Slob,' she thinks.

	

	Before lunch it is time for Suzanne's daily mounting. Mrs Miggins, the
housekeeper leads her into the bedroom. She is tied to the bedposts, each limb
secured with a tight leather cuff. Then a plump pillow is placed under her
bottom, offering her loins up for his lordship's pleasure.  Sometimes she has to
wait for half an hour or more before he enters the room. It always begins in the
same way. He undresses then sits beside her letting his fingers probe and poke
at her mound which is now kept smoothly shaven by the housekeeper. He tests her
to assess the level of her arousal and to prepare her for penetration. Once her
nipples are erect and her sex hot and moist her straddles her. Usually he
reaches for a roll of duct tape and gags her at this point. Suzanne hates that
but the aristocrat has told her that her moans irritate him and if she can't
keep quiet whilst he's servicing her he'll have to take measures to ensure she's
silenced. In truth, apart from the unpleasantness of the gag, Suzanne rather
looks forward to the fucking over which Sir Jeremy gives her. He seems almost
handsome compared to the Slob and he arouses her easily. She does her best to
accommodate him, thrusting her hips up to meet his downward lunges and wriggling
in a delightful way as he rides her. Sir Jeremy always enjoys the tight little
convulsions of her sex around his rod and never fails to dose his blonde
breeding mare with a good measure of sticky sperm. She is now so well trained
that she often orgasms at the same time that he does. Pregnancy seems inevitable
and what will that mean?  'At least I've escaped from the Slob,' she thinks.

	

	Lavinia Tremming comes to visit her old school friend Patricia Hardcrop.
When they were at a certain exclusive ladies college on the South Downs they
were known as the terrible twosome. Lavinia was the sporty type - broad features
and well muscled thighs. She was a prefect in the sixth form and so was
Patricia. Between them they terrorised some of the younger pupils. Rumour had it
that there were funny goings on between the sheets after lights out and the
rumours were true. But the school managed to avoid a scandal though the
headmistress was relieved when they left.

	Now Lavinia has developed into a rather butch and domineering lesbian
but a frustrated one without a regular partner. Patricia still thinks of her old
friend fondly and occasionally they meet and reminisce. Today they exchange an
intimate kiss before Suzanne is introduced. Lavinia watches wide eyed as she
sees the way that Patricia runs her hand casually over Suzanne's bare breasts
and pinches the pretty blonde's nipples. In her wildest dreams she has never
imagined having such power over a lovely young woman. "She does exactly as I
tell her", Patricia explains. "If she displeases me or my husband she is beaten.
She's quite an exciting little piece in bed. Shall we take her for a ride?"

	So they do. Suzanne is led to the bed chamber where Lavinia fits a strap
on and straddles her. Patricia squats over her face and orders her to use her
tongue. The school friends kiss as Suzanne wriggles beneath them providing them
both with the most delicious stimulation. After they have both orgasmed they
subside into some more prolonged games, teasing their poor victim by bringing
her to the brink of climax without permitting her to enjoy its release. Poor
Suzanne has to kiss their feet and lick their bottoms. She is degraded in a wide
variety of ways which reinforce her role as rented flesh. It makes her burn with
shame despite everything she has experienced. There is only one consolation. 'At
least I've escaped from the Slob,' she thinks.

	

	The inevitable has happened. Suzanne is pregnant and carries Sir Jeremy
Hardcrop's child in her belly. The Hardcrop's move her into the stables where
she is chained up at night. She sleeps on a small straw pallet and urinates and
defecates into a metal bucket. She's fed in the morning by the stable boys -
bran mash and apples like the horses with vitamin supplements for the baby. The
doctor visits her once a week and Sir Jeremy comes round in the evening to run
his hand over her swelling belly. In the early days he buggers her then makes
her suck his cock clean but as the pregnancy progresses he usually contents
himself with the pleasure of oral sex, spunking down her throat with a grunt of
satisfaction and ensuring that she swallows every drop of his seed. Often he
taunts her with cruel words.

	"If matters had turned out differently you might have been a free
woman", he says. "You might be married to some dope of a husband and fancy
yourself in love and you might be bearing your own child instead of my heir.
What a waste that would have been eh? Without disciple and training that pretty
body of yours would have been quite useless to me. Now suck harder you stupid
little slut!"

	   She often feels sick as she services the aristocrat like this but she
does as she's told. And much as she hates the regime soon she will have a baby
and then she will be restored to the house. She hopes the Hardcrops will let her
see her child and care for it. Despite everything they've done to her she still
fails to appreciate quite how ruthless they are. It's a side effect of the drugs
- they dull her wits as well as suppressing any resistance. 'At least I've
escaped from the Slob,' she thinks.

	

	Often Suzanne wonders how Kirsty is managing. It must be dreadful for
the hapless young woman under the dominion of the Slob and without even the
comfort of her friend. She shivers at the thought. Sir Jeremy and his wife may
treat her with contempt but there is still something worse about the Slob -
something inherently nastier. The very thought of him makes her catch her
breath. Poor Kirsty!

	

	Eventually the baby is ready to be born. The doctor is an old friend of
Sir Jeremy and he knows how to be discrete in social as well as medical matters.
His nurse is a sober matron in a starched blue uniform, professional and quiet.
She helps Suzanne onto a scrubbed table and then the process begins. It proves
to be a long and painful experience for the mother. From time to time when
Patricia looks in on the progress of the labour she winces as she witnesses
Suzanne's violent contractions and her rhythmic pelvic thrusts. "Push harder",
she says, squeezing the younger woman's hand.

	She smiles grimly and runs a speculative hand lightly over the young
woman's swollen belly. It really has been an excellent plan to use this blonde
breeder to produce a child for her. It has been a great benefit to avoid the
pain of the birth and the social inconvenience of the pregnancy. Patricia feels
no remorse about the use she has made of the luckless slave, only a certain
distant aristocratic distain. This is the way things should be. The lower
classes exit to serve the aristocracy. It's only right.

	"May I have a private word?", the doctor asks his employer's wife and
away from the table where the blonde strains to give birth he whispers to the
aristocrat.

	"You know we could administer some pain killers for her. It might be
best."

	"Is there any danger to the baby?"

	"Well, not yet. Not as such"

	"If the baby's life is in danger you must do what it takes to save it.
The baby is the priority. It doesn't matter about the mother."

	The doctor shrugs. He's had to take difficult medical decisions before
and he hopes this won't come to one. But if it does, he knows the priority.
Fortunately the early problems seem to resolve themselves without his
intervention and the labour continues to its happy conclusion in a relatively
routine fashion. Suzanne sobs in relief as the umbilical cord is cut

	The nurse takes the baby and holds it up to the light. It cries out loud
- a healthy son and heir for Sir Jeremy's estate! Both aristocrats are
delighted. The Hardcrops take him away from his natural mother immediately so
that he doesn't form any sort of attachment to Suzanne and begins instead to
bond with Patricia. From now on, she is the only mother he will know.

	

	A week after the birth, Lady Hardcrop holds a little soiree for some of
her close friends to introduce them to her son. She proudly cradles the baby,
overlooked by her smiling husband whilst her guests make suitable complements
and congratulations. Suzanne serves drinks for them all, dressed in her French
maid's outfit with sheer black stockings and suspenders. She has to fight hard
not to cry at the unfairness of it all. This attention should be devoted to her!
But the only attention she gets is an unexpectedly fierce little pinch on the
bottom from Lavinia Tremming which makes her squeak with surprise and nearly
drop her tray of drinks. The brutish lesbian gives Suzanne an evil grin, which
is not at all sympathetic. Sir Jeremy smiles as he sees Suzanne's flustered look
of confusion, shame and humiliation. He's pleased to see her looking so sexy
again so soon after the birth.

	"Come here", he says. He bends and whispers in her ear. "Never mind my
lovely little trollop. As soon as this is over, I'll take you upstairs and give
you a good hard ride again!"



	So later that same evening, when Lady Hardcrop has taken her son out to
visit her mother, Sir Jeremy has his wicked way with Suzanne once again. It's
been a little while since he's been able to enjoy himself so thoroughly with the
slave girl for fear of harming his baby, but tonight no holds are barred and he
makes good use of her sweetly surrendered body. Afterwards he strokes her flanks
idly, enjoying the soft warmth of her flesh pressed against his own. She
struggles to speak and although he normally dislikes this and forbids her from
talking when he has his pleasures with her, this time he is in a good humour and
lets her continue.

	"P...please sir", she begins hesitantly.

	"Yes trollop", he says, giving her permission to continue as he squeezes
her left breast a little more firmly.

	 "W... will you keep me now that the baby is born? I mean", she swallows
nervously obviously apprehensive about what she has to say. After all, speaking
directly to Lord Hardcrop isn't something she does everyday! Then she seems to
find her courage and continues in a rush.

	"I mean you'll need someone to look after the baby for you, won't you?"

	"Go on", he says, amused by this pleading.

	"And I can be useful to you in other ways", she says almost
coquettishly.

	"Like how?"

	"Like I've just demonstrated", she says.

	"Ahhh... Well, I'll tell you what bitch", he says. "Why don't you
demonstrate that to me again? Stop chattering and put that mouth of yours to
better use eh? Show me that you're worth a man keeping you on!"

	So she does and it is an experience which the aristocrat enjoys
enormously. He's had oral sex with her before, of course, on many occasions, but
it has never been better than this time. Suzanne is really desperately anxious
to please him and she is trying so hard! She uses her lips and tongue with every
effort and employs all the skills she has learned, worshiping his prick,
delicately licking the sensitive skin and planting delightful kisses on his
scrotum. The knowledge that his organ has so recently been violating her bottom
revolts her, but she fights this natural disgust and overcomes it.

	All the time that she is working Suzanne is thinking, 'please don't send
me back to the Slob!' It's not as if life at Lonemoor Manor is exactly a bed of
roses. Far from it! But she's almost learned to tolerate her master's abuses
here. Lady Hardcrop still frightens her but if she works hard and tries her best
to please her master and mistress she can sometimes avoid the most painful
punishments. The aristocrats seldom show the capricious and imaginative cruelty
of the Slob. And she wants to be near her baby too. Even if the world thinks it
belongs to Patricia Hardcrop she knows it belongs to her! 'Please, please don't
send me back!', she thinks, but she says nothing and concentrates hard on
licking and sucking.

	Sir Jeremy finally climaxes down the blonde's throat with a sigh of
great satisfaction, lying back to contemplate as she swallows frantically.

	"Splendid", he says. It's the first complement he's offered in a long
time. "You know", he continues in reflective mood, his hand once again absently
fondling her breast, "I would like to keep you. I'd like too, but I'm afraid I
can't. Patricia wouldn't allow it I'm afraid. Not part of the plan. You see we
had a deal. You were brought here to give us a child and that's all. She
wouldn't like it if I kept you on for other sexual services, as pleasant as
those would be."

	"B.. but the baby. My baby!", she wails.

	That's a dreadful mistake, which she realises as soon as the words are
out of her mouth. It's not her baby. The aristocrats have always been very firm
on that point. Sir Jeremy purses his lips in a line of anger and resolution.

	"Over my lap now, young lady!", he orders. Suzanne quails, her momentary
and oh so minor rebellion instantly crushed by his direct command. She lies
across his lap whilst he spanks her for her insolence and presumption. It is a
hard spanking and it makes her cry softly - and not just from the physical pain.



	 Another week passes. Suzanne continues in the role of maid, dusting and
cleaning round the house under Mrs Miggins disapproving eye.  She's kept to a
strict regime and her workload is hard and demanding. It's a measure of how
completely she accepts her role that she now understands that some punishment is
inevitable and proper but she's upset that the punishments she receives seem
harder and more frequent than she feels she deserves. She knows this is to
chastise her for speaking out of turn. That distresses her but there is nothing
she can do about it.

	Sir Jeremy doesn't use her again. She's been relegated from bed toy to
simple maid. In the evenings she sometimes slips her fingers into her sex and
allows herself to fantasise he will take her again. Or even, she is disturbed to
realise, to hope that Patricia will fit a strap on dildo and use her. At least
at Lonemoor manor she sometimes has the opportunity to masturbate free of the
Slob's devilish plastic panties. Even so, masturbation is still a punishable
offence if she is caught and she has to be careful. She seldom gets even a
glimpse of the baby.  Still, as the days pass Suzanne allows herself to hope
that her owners might change their mind. It's not something she can control.
This hope just rises of its own accord when she least expects it.

	One day she is bending over the table in the hallway when a visitor
arrives. She is under instructions not to look up from her work when the master
and mistress have guests so she doesn't see him as he walks up behind her,
breathing heavily. It is only when fat pudgy hands reach from behind her head to
close about her tender breasts that she realises the man has trapped her. The
hands squeeze her bosom with a cunning cruelty that brings forth a weeping drop
of milk from the lactating glands. Suzanne feels  hot breath in her ear and a
growing sense of horror. Before he speaks she knows who it is. Her stomach
lurches in fear and dread. Her worst nightmare has come true!

	"Nice to see you again Suzanne", the Slob says. "It's time for you to
come home!"

	Part 10 - Farewell to Kirsty

	

	All good things come to an end...

	

	The white antiseptic light from an overhead fluorescent bulb flickered
slightly in the interview room. There were no windows and only a wide wooden
desk and two chairs. On one side, sat an old man in his mid sixties with snow
white hair and a wrinkled leathery face. He had a tape recorder beside him and a
note book. Kirsty was sitting on the other side of the table, dressed in the
same clothes she had been wearing when she entered the Slob's flat to take the
job as his maid so many painful months ago. She couldn't believe that her long
ordeal was over! It had all happened without warning and in a peculiar dreamlike
way, which must have been partly due to the drugs and the hypnosis. She vaguely
remembered the Slob injecting her with something. He'd seemed worried and more
irritable than usual but for once not with her. He'd fastened her leash to the
wall and left the flat. Her mind was a little hazy but the next thing she
remembered, a stranger was unfastening her collar and gently telling her to get
dressed. She'd cried for Suzanne but the man told her not to worry - everything
was going to be all right. And now she was here.

	

	"My name is Doctor Bartholomew", the man was saying. "You are free from
the Slob now. My job is to take care of you. You see, my organisation has
recently discovered what happened to you. The Slob had stolen some of our
property and he was using our equipment to control you. That's over now. We made
some enquiries of our own and we've had words with the Slob!"

	

	"S.. Suzanne?"

	

	"Is being dealt with", the man said. "But now I need to ask you some
questions. We just need to confirm some things that the Slob has told us. Answer
as best you can, please."

	

	Kirsty smoothed her skirt down with her hands, nervously running them
over the black nylon mesh of her tights where they covered her knees. She wasn't
sure what to say. It was all so horrid and also so embarrassing. She'd thought
that after all she'd been through with the Slob nothing could possibly embarrass
her anymore but in front of this stranger she realised she was wrong. The
imminent prospect of a return to society was starting to sensitise her to the
norms of everyday behaviour. But she had to get through this.

	And so Kirsty told the doctor all about her treatment at the hands of
the Slob and about the way she had been abducted. It was a painful experience
but she concealed nothing, letting it all come out in a flood of tears and
relief.

	

	The doctor had to fight hard not to smile as the girl confirmed
everything the nasty lowlife that she called the Slob had told him. What a truly
remarkable story! And what a stroke of good fortune his encounter with the Slob
had turned out to be...

	

	When the secret equipment had first been stolen from the doctor's covert
project it had been an irritating and potentially dangerous development. The
Director had devoted considerable resources through conventional and
unconventional channels to recover the missing kit but to no avail. Eventually
the doctor and his colleagues were resigned to the loss and had all but given up
on ever recovering their property. Then, out of the blue, there was a new lead,
which had ultimately resulted in an arranged meeting with the petty criminal
Kirsty knew as the Slob...

	

	It had been difficult to convince the Slob to talk to him. The doctor
had resorted to a mixture of dark threats and promises but had eventually
managed to interview the man. At first, the doctor just wanted to be sure that
there would be no repercussions from the loss of the equipment. The Slob was
very wary but as the discussion proceeded and the doctor managed to convince him
that he wasn't part of any law enforcement agency and he didn't care what he'd
done so long as the information wouldn't go public, he opened up and began to
tell the doctor all sorts of fascinating details... On their second meeting in
his flat, the Slob introduced him to Kirsty, blindfolding the girl and allowing
the doctor to run his hands over her naked body to prove that he really had
gained complete control over her. Already, the two men had the outline of an
interesting little deal cooked up and it was concluded when Kirsty (still
blindfolded) was made to kneel at the doctor's feet and suck his ageing cock
until he spunked over her.

	

	Poor Kirsty, didn't know that her 'escape' was only a complex trading
arrangement between the doctor and the Slob and she had no idea that the old man
who now seemed so sympathetic had been the silent assessor whose come she had
been obliged to swallow so recently. The girl was a pretty little piece all
right. In her smart blouse and skirt she was beginning to regain a degree of
confidence. The doctor had to admit that the Slob had good taste.

	

	"Thank you my dear", the doctor said when he had made Kirsty confirm all
the details the Slob had told him. "It would seem that you have been removed
from society most effectively by our mutual 'friend'. No one is looking for your
return and your disappearance is just another missing person statistic. How
convenient! And now I had better tell you what is to become of you.

	You see the Slob as done me a favour. I am a researcher and I need
experimental subjects - lab animals if you will - but it is not always easy to
find suitable candidates. Strangely enough, even in my position, it is hard to
extract an individual from out of the culture without suspicion. In your case,
though, the job has already been done most effectively. I'm afraid I shall not
be setting you free, my dear. I'm afraid, I will be using you to further my
researches..."

	

	She screamed then and rose to her feet, running for the door. It was
locked of course and he let her rattle the door furiously for a full minute and
squeal loudly before he finally shouted the words that would subdue her.

	

	"You're mine now Sugar Pie!"

	

	The effect was most gratifying. The young woman hung her head in an
agony of silent defeat.

	

	"Bend over the table this instant! You're a disobedient cow aren't you?
I can see why the Slob had to take the strap to you! You need to learn that I
will be every bit as firm as your former master. I'm told you respond well to
the cane. We shall see now!"

	

	Kirsty lifted her skirt and positioned herself over the desk with the
resignation and sinking feeling of many such previous experiences, But surely
none since the first time had been quite so bitter as this one! The doctor
enjoyed the bare rump displayed so nicely above the dark line of her stocking
tops. He took his time and delivered six of the very best, savouring his
ownership and the little jumps of anguish which accompanied each stroke. When he
spoke again it was in the sure knowledge that he would be obeyed.

	

	"Come with me please, Kirsty!"

	

	The doctor's voice was stern and the blonde's heart quailed, still
thumping madly from her attempt to run away. She took his hand timidly, when he
held it out and he led her through the office and into a clinical white
laboratory. Rows of cages round the walls held a softly chattering set of
monkeys and dogs who seemed to be eyeing her speculatively. A pretty young nurse
was waiting by a shiny table. She had short black hair and she wore a trim white
uniform with black stockings and open toed sandals that could not have been at
all practical in any hospital ward.

	"See that Kirsty is undressed, Helen, then take her clothes away and
burn them will you? She won't be needing them anymore, she's joining the lab
stock now."

	It was as brutal, as direct and as off hand as that.  Kirsty felt tears
begin to well up as she was stripped by the efficient little nurse - shoes and
skirt, blouse, stockings and underwear all removed and placed in a black plastic
bag. There were no questions now, just orders. She would obey - it was as simple
as that. A collar was fastened round her neck and she was told to lie on the
table and wait for the doctor's inspection. The nurse finished by kissing the
naked blonde briefly on each stiffening nipple and quickly between the junction
of her thighs.

	And of course, when the doctor returned his hands explored her as though
she were some abstract study in anatomy. The subject was weighed and
photographed from multiple angles. Calipers were set round her head, neck,
breasts and thighs and the Doctor called out measurements which the nurse wrote
down carefully in a little record book. Kirsty whimpered softly as the doctor
ran his hands appreciatively up her legs. Although it was unprofessional he had
a feeling that this particular specimen would make quite an enjoyable little
fuck if he wanted a brief spell of relaxation. He shrugged mentally. There was
nothing wrong with mixing business and pleasure in small doses. After all, he'd
already conditioned Helen to oblige him with certain very personal services - a
minor but rather sweet little addition to the essential qualities of complete
obedience and unquestioning acknowledgement of his total authority which had
been simple professional necessities he was obliged to instil into any assistant
working on the project. Kirsty would be rather different of course. It wouldn't
do to become too attached to her, she was just a lab animal, after all and from
now on she would be treated as one. The caning had shocked her into submission
so easily and that was where she would be kept. Some of his more weak-minded
colleagues might develop a certain fondness for their experimental subjects but
not Dr. Bartholomew. In the service of science a lab animal was just a lab
animal, he reminded himself, whether it came in human form or not.

	He stroked the girl's sex with a firm thumb, pressing the tender skin
with casual disregard.

	"Good to see she's been kept shaved down here", he remarked idly to his
nurse. "I'll want her head shaved tomorrow before we start on the tests."

	When the doctor finally parted his patient's legs and entered her it was
clinical and cool - a man test driving  a new car for responsiveness, comfort
and ease of ride.

	There was to be no release - Kirsty understood that now and with the
knowledge came a complete collapse back into the depths of abject surrender. The
doctor pumped her hard and Kirsty rose to meet her new owner, anxious now to
oblige him and above all obedient. It had been so very wrong of her to try to
escape - she knew that now. She had been such a bad girl and the doctor was
right to punish her. She was just a lab animal, after all; just there to be used
for the doctor's experiments. The doctor grunted and flooded her flesh, at the
same moment that she came, her hips bucking wildly.

	"Let's have you in your cage now bitch", he said fastening a sort metal
chain to the collar round her neck and leading her to the tiny wire box which
was to be her new home. Soon she was crouched uncomfortably next to a nasty
looking ape which bared it's teeth at her and a growling Doberman which
frightened her with a menacing growl. As he closed the door on the naked young
woman, the doctor was already planning the next day's trials. There were some
intriguing tests ahead for the little blonde animal. Still, it wouldn't be all
work, he thought with a grin as he switched off the light. When she wasn't under
the instruments there'd be time for a little relaxation under him. And she'd be
so grateful for a break from the programme he was certain she'd perform very
well indeed. He'd have Helen warm her up, perhaps if she needed a little
lubrication first. Oh yes, Kirsty, you sexy little minx, he thought
complacently. Before I'm through with you, your body is going to provide me with
some very interesting data indeed....

	

	In a railway carriage on the line from London, the Slob was eyeing up a
potential replacement for his pretty maid. The unlucky young woman had no idea
that she was being considered for an employment opportunity she couldn't
refuse... The Slob liked what he saw - the girl was tall with long dark hair,
wearing a black blouse and with a medium length cotton skirt which showed enough
leg below the knees to intrigue him. He had a thing for black stockings and high
heels and they certainly looked good on this one. He judged the woman to be in
her mid twenties. Her skin was pale and her chest, though not so well developed
as Suzanne was quite nicely stacked and promised a man a decent handful.

	An utterly fuckable piece of stuff, he thought, and once she's been
trained to meet my requirements she'll make a very nice addition to the
household furniture. Probably better quality than, Kirsty. He was forgetting for
a moment that he'd found the little blonde very desirable when he'd first taken
her. But his standards were higher now, provided he got the opportunity...

	

	Initially the Slob had hated the idea of surrendering Kirsty to the
doctor, but it hadn't worked out so badly after all. In fact the compensations
were well worth the trade off of the loss of his first slave. He had a regular
supply of the drug which helped to keep a victim compliant and he had an
interested patron who could put useful business his way. And after all, he had
been allowed to keep Suzanne, who had now become his favourite anyway. The
pretty blonde had returned from her successful stay with the Hardcrops, having
provided them with a son and heir. How she hated the return to the dingy London
flat and the intimate services she had to provide for the Slob and his father!
The men took full advantage of her milk bearing mammary glands to suckle from
her breasts and greatly enjoyed this new facility in addition to all the
familiar pleasures they took with her body.

	The Slob still wanted a replacement for Kirsty, though. Variety is the
spice of life, he reminded himself. Perhaps after all it was a good time to
trade Kirsty in for a fresh model.

	

	Put your walkman on, girlie, he willed his sexy new target. Put those
headphones on and you're mine.

	She did and before they'd reached the next stop she was scratching her
leg in response to the initial suitability test. The Slob felt his trousers
tent. He was amazed again at the power of the technique to gain control over his
targets. It was going to be so easy! And a brunette would be such a nice change.
He went to sit beside her, already imagining how the young woman would look
naked and what he was going to do to her. He didn't even know her name yet, he
realised but she would be a lovely companion piece for Suzanne. Elegant and even
a little aloof now, but once she'd been properly disciplined she'd soon be
wriggling under his juicy blonde slave and begging for a proper poke...

	He put his arm round the young woman's shoulders and stole his first
kiss as her startled eyes shocked open. "Hello sugar pie!", he said. The game
was beginning again.

	

					The End

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