The Slave Guilds

I admit it, I’ve always been a kinky guy, and a huge fan of BDSM. I am a submissive male. And, to make a long story short, I went to a BDSM convention downtown one weekend. There were all sorts of booths with different Mistresses promoting themselves and selling merchandise, lectures for both dominants and submissives, and even a nacho cart. One of the larger, more-elaborate-looking booths grabbed my attention.
The banner said “Quixerotic Industries.” After getting to the front, a sexy Femdom holding a clipboard thanked me for coming and said they were offering a week-long BDSM retreat for those interested in the male slave lifestyle. It would be a week at a retreat in the country with leather- and latex-clad Femdoms leading BDSM activities… like a Summer camp for male subs. I said it sounded great but also really expensive, and I was sure I couldn’t afford it. But she said it didn’t cost any money. It was completely free for anyone whose application was accepted. Granted, applying was no guarantee of getting accepted, but everyone who applies gets a free hour-long private dungeon session with one of Quixerotica’s sexy Mistresses.
A free dungeon session with a sexy Mistress? Sold! Where can I get an application?
The Femdom handed me the clipboard she was holding.
The application was very standard and boring. Name, age, contact information, occupation and work experience, medical conditions, etc. About the most interesting it got was some questions about our experience in the BDSM lifestyle. How long had we been into it, how many sessions with professional dominatrices had we had, did we have any hard limits, etc. Once I filled out the application, I handed it back to the Femdom who gave it to me. She said someone from Quixerotica would be contacting me within a few days.
Sure enough, three days later, I got an e-mail from Quixerotica inviting me to an hour-long private dungeon session with a sexy Mistress at their local studio the upcoming weekend. I could hardly wait!
I suspected that whether or not I would be invited to the “Summer Camp” would have at least as much to do with how I performed in the session as it did with what I wrote on my application, and probably more, so I made sure to do everything I could to make a good impression. I brought the Mistress flowers and an expensive bottle of wine, and I made sure to look my best and show up right on time.
I knocked on the door, and the Mistress opened it. She was quite probably the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. Submitting to Her would not be difficult at all…
Though She definitely tried to make it so. She was absolutely sadistic, and She didn’t waste any time. Modesty prohibits me from going into too much detail, so I’ll just say, for that hour, she violated me in unspeakable ways. Both physically and verbally. She made it clear that, when I was with Her, I was not a human being entitled to human rights or dignity. I had sessioned with a few professional dominatrices before, but She pushed me to limits I didn’t even know I had…
Eventually, mercifully, the hour ended. She told me to get dressed, then She went to the mirrored wall and began reapplying Her makeup. I dressed quickly, and when my clothes were back on, I returned to Her side, got down on my hands and knees and began kissing Her feet. I have to admit, after what She had put me through, I felt bonded to Her… I told Her that I didn’t even care about the Femdom Summer Camp thing. I mean, if I got accepted, that would be great, but I really just wanted to see Her again. I knew I couldn’t expect another free session, but I’d be willing to pay full price from now on. As much as I could afford. I just wanted to spend as much time as I could with Her…
She told me that She’d think about it, then She told me to get the hell out of Her dungeon. With one last kiss on Her foot, I got up and complied.
Weeks passed, and I got sadder and sadder because I didn’t hear back from the Mistress I sessioned with or Quixerotica. I came to the conclusion that I must have done something wrong in the session, or maybe filled out something wrong on my application, and I wouldn’t be going to that camp or seeing Her again. But then, five weeks later, an e-mail from Quixerotica saying that I had been accepted to come to their BDSM retreat scheduled for two weekends from to come. Fantastic!
We had to park at a lot downtown and take a bus there, just like a real Summer Camp. The bus was a large tourist bus, and it was filled to capacity. Once all of us were on board, we began rolling. As soon as we were passed the outskirts of town, the bus stopped. This couldn’t be it. They said the camp was out in the country, and we could walk back home from here. But before we could get off, two women boarded the bus. They wore rubber gimp suits that covered every inch of their bodies and gas masks. They would look very out of place on a city street, but on a bus full of kinksters on their way to a BDSM retreat, nobody gave their wardrobe a second thought…
Well, we should have, because no sooner had they appeared that they pulled cannisters from their belts and activated them, filling the cabin of the bus with noxious gas that caused us to cough and pass out unconscious…
When I came to, I was no longer on the bus. I was in a small office, sitting in a swivel chair with my wrists zip tied to the arm rests. Through my haze, I noticed an armed guard get up and walk out of the room as soon as I woke up. A moment later, she returned with two others. One was the Mistress I sessioned with five weeks earlier, the other was a woman in business attire, middle-aged, but still quite shapely and attractive.
Despite my confusion, I was happy to see my Mistress again, and I nodded at Her. She didn’t acknowledge me. The older woman did all of the talking.
“Good morning, slave,” she said calmly. “I’m sure you have many questions, and I will do my best to answer them now.
“First and foremost, I must emphasize that you are very lucky. Based on your work experience that you referenced in your application, the information we gathered from your background check as well as your exemplary performance in your session with Mistress Heather here, we have decided that you are to be the leader of the slaves. This will mean additional responsibilities, but additional privileges too. That’s why we’ve segregated you from the others for this private conversation.
“Now, some background information. Understand that Quixerotica isn’t solely a Femdom/BDSM organization like you were led to believe. We actually have many diverse holdings, like uranium mining, sawmilling and dairy farming, just to name a few. And you are going to be a part of our organization now. Not just you individually, all of you who came here.”
I told her I didn’t understand. Then Mistress Heather spoke up.
“Slaves. You are now our slaves. You will be working in the mines, and the fields, and the assembly lines… To make us money… Because you’re a slave.”
I told Her that wasn’t what I expected to be doing this week, and the two of them laughed.
“You still think this is only going to last a week,” the older one said. “No, no, no, no, no. That was just a ruse to lure you here. You’re here for the duration, slave. Quixerotica Industries owns you now… What part of ‘slave’ did you not understand?”
I told her I wanted to go home. The two of them just looked at each other, then Mistress Heather walked around the desk and stood beside me, leaning in.
“When we sessioned, you said you wanted to spend more time with me. Well, this is how we can spend time together. Isn’t that what you want?”
I said yes.
“Then good! It’s settled,” the older one said. “You will act as our liaison between us and the general slave population.”
Then Mistress Heather added, “And if you don’t do a good job, we’ll send you home.” Both of them laughed. “Just kidding,” She continued. “If you don’t do a good job, we’ll turn your butthole into a catcher’s mitt for big black cock.”
“Just so there’s no confusion, what Mistress Heather means specifically is, if you disappoint us, we will feminize you and recoup our investment in you by making you work as a prostitute. But just do a good job and we won’t have to worry about that, OK?”
I said I wanted to go home again.
Mistress Heather turned to the older woman and said, “Mistress Katharina, may we please have the room for a minute?”
The older woman got up and left the room. Once she was gone, Mistress Heather got up and walked around behind the desk, fetching a couple things from the drawers. Then she came back to me and pulled down my pants. Then she put a cold, steel chastity cage on my genitals. With my wrists still zipped to the arm rests, there was nothing I could do to stop her.
Then She sat on my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. Her buttocks were right on my chastity cage. She knew it was driving me crazy.
“Look, stop acting tough. We know from your background check that you’re not a strong man. Smart, resourceful, hard-working, but not strong. And I know from our session, all the things you did so willingly at my command, you’re not a man with any self-respect. So cut the act. Just accept your fate. You’re a slave now. Your only choice is, are you going to be a slave with a respected position as our liaison, or are you going to be a slave who’s a literal prostitution whore?”
I told Her I would be Her liaison.
“I thought you’d see it my way, you pathetic little bitch.” After a pause, She continued. “But there’s one more thing I want you to do. Yes, if you disappoint us, we will turn you into a sissy prostitute, but don’t do a good job to prevent us from doing that to you. Do a good job because you really want to please us. Because you really want to please me. At our session, I could tell, you’d never been… you know… back there before, have you?”
I said no.
“Well that’s our bond. It was virgin territory, and I claimed it. So it will always belong to me. And, in a way, even though I’ve never pimped you out even once, I am your Daddy. Tell me I’m your Daddy.”
I told Her She was my Daddy.
“Say it with some love and affection in your voice. And kiss me on the cheek first.”
Then I kissed Her on the cheek and, in a voice resembling a pre-teen girl speaking to her father, told Her She was my Daddy. And the funny thing was, as the memories of the night of our session came flooding back, I meant it.
“Atta-girl,” She said. Then She got up from my lap and began walking towards the door. I reminded her of the chastity cage She’d put me in.
“Oh, no. That stays,” She said. “That’s part of your style from now on, bitch. Consider wearing it part of the test of your loyalty.”
She opened the door and let Mistress Katharina back in. Then she said, “I’m pleased to report that he has agreed to cooperate fully.”
“Oh, good. Time is money, so we’ll start right away…”