My cell phone chirps from the crystal coffee table as I read over some order forms. I almost miss the call due to the elegant Chopin playing. It’s good news. They will be touching down in two minutes. I put the cellphone down and get up, noticing my coffee table’s eyes dart eagerly towards me. Oh, did I not mention? I have a petite red headed British 19 year old with leather straps forcing her to rest on her elbows and knees with a crystal table top resting along her back and palms. She’s eager for me to leave so that the slave kneeling with her face in the corner behind me can get up and help her rest. True, she’s been a coffee table for 3 hours now while I’ve awaited this call, but her eyes being raised from above the floor is inexcusable. I’ll have Mistress Bitchcraft cut her nipples off. No, that seems a bit harsh for a first offence. Perhaps I’ll only have a finger or two broken. No need to cause any permanent cosmetic damage to such a fine specimen for her first error since being added to the staff.
On the way from my study to the front lawn, I snapped my fingers to summon Baby. Baby was one of the few slaves I permitted a certain level of independence. She’d been an ad executive in New York once, now she was my personal aid and slut. Her eight inch latex heels and ankle cuffs made her walk in short baby steps, while her push up corset prominently displayed her bare DD tits.
“Yes daddy?” She followed me as I walked down the main hall.
“Have the novice room readied, my new toy is almost here. And have the table in the main study sent down to Mistress Bitchcraft to have a few fingers broken. Her eyes aren’t staying where they should.”
“At once daddy. Anything else daddy?” To think, this 38 year old woman had once threatened to bite of my cock off.
“Yes, have Mistress Bitchcraft spank you. You knew Tracy was arriving, and should have been standing AT the entrance to the study waiting for me. You made me wait for you for nearly 10 seconds. Tell Mistress Bitchcaft to spank you for no more than half an hour, I want you to be able to sit down without discomfort within three days.”
Baby nodded without hesitation. “Thank you daddy.” She turned and left. I had no reason to follow up on her or suspect she would not follow my orders to the letter. She, like every slave on the estate, was mine. Baby no longer hated herself, or was disgusted with her actions. She’d admitted to herself that she was no longer the owner of herself.
I make my way to the main entrance, passing the through the main hall’s paintings, carvings and the art. The art is my collection of six slaves, two sets of identical triplets. They sit on their knees, hands behind their heads with open mouths like every slave on the estate is expected to. Three on one side of the hall, three on the other. Each has a unique nipple shield pierced through their nipples which are chained together and to their collar, making for an erotic triangle on their chest. Below, the chain from their belly button piercing trails down between their legs. Though I don’t take the time to look as I pass, I know that the chain running to their cunts is attached to a silver clit piercing, which in turn is attached to the weighted dildo they wear up their asses. Together, the six make a firm, sensual statement to every visitor of the estate. They say ‘This isn’t some cheap kidnapping ring from Thailand you’re here to see. This is a five star business, and we want to make sure you get EXACTLY what you want.’ They’re best described as elegant.
I continue past the art towards the open front door. Already I can hear the whir of the helicopter motor winding down. Good, she’s already here.
As I exit the main house, I can see a three member team escorting a hooded and handcuffed woman along the lawn. She fights against their manhandling of her, even though she has no idea where she is. She doesn’t know better. One of my little rules is to not have the recently kidnapped harmed in any way. If they have no warning on the matter, they have no idea of the harsh treatment that will become of their lives once they arrive. The surprise in their eyes as they realize what they’re in for is only the begging of my decadent joy, but it is a cherished one. It takes them a few minutes to walk across the entire length of the lawn and up the twelve steps to where I wait them. Despite being almost noon, the temperature is moderate. I savour the site ahead of me. Clear sky, green grass, beautiful Greco decorations and a new, untouched whore to torture into submission. Life is good.
Cole, the head kidnapper, greets me as they arrive. “Sir. Transport has been a total of 36 hours. No alerts were sent out before we left town. It’s likely no missing person report was been filed before we left the country. We left no sign of a struggle and packed a few items of hers, so it should be no one will be looking for her for sometime.”
“Very good. The transfer will take place by the time you make it home. I’ve had a very specific request for a Japanese national. I’ll have the details sent over to you in a couple of days, so try to keep the vacation short.”
“Yes sir”. As they turn to go, I once again appreciate how professional they are. It makes things easier and more comfortable. I hate chit chat, and these men could care for anything less. Now, left before me, is my prize. Confused and scarred. Running shoes, jeans, t-shirt, black hood. We’ll take care of that soon enough. I reach out and pull the hood off. A moment of panic passes for Tracy as her eyes adjust to the light. Her beautiful blond hair is matted with sweat against her forehead. I’ll have to have her cleaned up. Seeing me finally, she moans, beggingly, through the ball gag.
“I’ll make this quick. I own you. You’ll be my sexual slave, beaten and raped for my gratification. Learn, and you’ll live. Don’t…well, you’ll live, for a time. You will call me daddy, and you will thank me for this.” It’s simple and direct, designed to illicit a specific response. Immediately she begins to angrily moan through her ball gag, even kicking out at me. Her panicked attack made her small A cup tits bounce a bit, drawing my eyes. I get out of the way, easily enough. She’s going to be fun.
“None of that. But don’t worry. I’ll beat that out of you. SLUTS!” I call out for my Sluts, two slaves who act as heads of the household staff. They walk up, having been nearby, in matching black corsets and collars. Branded on their chests, just above their perky B cup tits, are the number 1 and 2, respectively, thus differentiating their names as Slut 1 and Slut 2.
“Take this cunt down to the novice room. If the room isn’t ready, have Baby flogged for an hour.” Tracy tries to scream, and resist, her eyes going wide.
“Yes daddy.” They say in unison, leading Tracy away by the arms. Though not twins, they look near enough. Slut 1 was once a homemaker from Tucson and Slut 2 had been a nun from Canada. I let them leave, and stay where I am, watching the helicopter fly off. As it fades away into the distance, I hear a telltale jingling of metal on metal approach me from behind.