Original Slave Fiction's Journal
 
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Below are the 17 most recent journal entries recorded in Original Slave Fiction's InsaneJournal:

    Saturday, April 19th, 2014
    1:14 am
    Two old men reach an understanding
    Story title: Two Old Men Reach An Understanding
    Parts: one-shot
    Rating: Adult
    Warnings: BDSM  implied sex
    Configuration: Male Owner / Male Slave
    Word count: 2036
    Summary: Zeke and Thomas have a quarrel  and then reach an understanding that is satisfactory to them both.
    Feedback: Please.
    http://leigh-tapscott.livejournal.com/6509.html
    Thursday, April 17th, 2014
    11:20 pm
    Across the Sea
    Story title: Escape to the Sea
    Author: Romanumeternal
    Chapter: One-shot
    Rating: 15
    Configurations: M/m...I guess?
    Warnings: Adult language; violence, death.
    Word Count: 1000
    Feedback: Any!
    Summary: Two slaves flee from Roman lands...


    So this one is pretty nasty. No relationship drama, no mild unpleasantness.

    Just a reminder of how brutal the People's Republic of Rome can really be.

    http://romanumeternal.livejournal.com/4017.html
    Saturday, March 15th, 2014
    3:53 pm
    FIC: Control, Chapter 20
    Title: Control
    Author: ckingsbridge
    Summary: When Control agent Joaquin Castillo finds himself unintentionally bound to a brainwashed sex slave, he vows to restore the boys memories and set him free. Then he discovers the boys true identity, and everything goes straight to hell.
    Rating: NC-17
    Configuration: M/m
    Word Count: ~6,700 this chapter
    Warnings: Sexual slavery and all attendant consent issues; D/s; erotic humiliation; bondage; corporal discipline; non-sexual violence and gore
    Status: Ongoing serial (WIP)
    Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is unintentional.
    Authors Note: Feedback and concrit appreciated!

    Chapter Twenty: On The Lam
    Saturday, March 29th, 2014
    1:10 pm
    FIC: Control, Chapter 21
    Title: Control
    Author: ckingsbridge
    Summary: When Control agent Joaquin Castillo finds himself unintentionally bound to a brainwashed sex slave, he vows to restore the boys memories and set him free. Then he discovers the boys true identity, and everything goes straight to hell.
    Rating: NC-17
    Configuration: M/m
    Word Count: ~2,600 this chapter
    Warnings: Sexual slavery and all attendant consent issues; D/s; erotic humiliation; bondage; corporal discipline; non-sexual violence and gore
    Status: Ongoing serial (WIP)
    Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is unintentional.
    Authors Note: Feedback and concrit appreciated!

    Chapter Twenty-One: Making Plans
    Tuesday, April 1st, 2014
    11:10 pm
    To Bind A Shadow
    Title: To Bind A Shadow
    Author: miri_thompson
    Pairing: M/M
    Warnings: Dub-Con; Non-Con; Ritual knife-Play
    Content Notes: Fantasy; Power Exchange
    Word Count: 4,375 (One-Shot)
    Beta'd by: elrhiarhodan , theatregirl7299 and clodiametelli Thanks ladies!
    Summary: Cedro has only one chance to bind this mocking shadow creature to him . . . if he fails, the price could be his own soul.
    Author's Notes: For those of you who have read my Halcrest series, welcome to the continent of Ancora! This story takes place about 100 years before the current Halcrest stories.

    (Read More)
    Wednesday, April 16th, 2014
    7:50 pm
    Breaking New Ground - Petros, part 2
    Title: Breaking New Ground: Petros, part two
    Word count: 968
    Configurations: m/m
    Rating: PG
    Warnings: None, really.
    Summary: This is a spin-off from the original hand slaves novels, Hidden Boundaries and Crossing Boundaries. Petros and Simon are two slaves in Jordane Alcot’s household, and they offer another view of people and events there. Petros is a bed slave, a character in both novels. Simon is a labor slave, a character in Crossing Boundaries.

    When Master Alcot brought home a new slave (how many years ago was that now? I can’t remember) and I learned that he was to be the master’s personal slave, I didn’t know what to think. Cor was a foreigner, and he wasn’t a hand slave. And he was going to live in the slave quarters, instead of in the house. If I had been serving as I was trained to, I would have been living in the house myself, instead of the slave quarters, so my first thoughts were that maybe I would have someone to talk to and be friends with, after so long mostly alone.

    Jakon’s slave, Alix, kept me from being totally lost and alone, but that was hardly a friendship. Jakon kept Alix close most of the time, and there was very little in common between us. I had been trained in an official school and he had been sold to a man who pierced his “students” hands, ran them through a short training, and sold them off again. He told me that Jakon bought him from one of the open markets. I suppose it didn’t matter where he came from or that he was poorly trained if Jakon was happy with him. He seemed to be happy with Jakon, but I know I wouldn’t want to be owned by a slave master.

    Cor and I didn’t become friends until much later, and that was mostly my fault. At first, I thought it was because I had offered to share some physical comfort. I found out very quickly, and violently, that he had no interest in men as sex partners, and was even disgusted by my offer. But most of the problem wasn’t mine at all. He had been kidnapped from his own country and brought to Carhagen to be sold as a slave. I had been just a child when I was enslaved, so I couldn’t really understand his anger at losing his freedom, and his horror at the prospect of having his hands pierced. I tried, but you can never really know what another person’s life is like. Slavery is just the normal thing here, and I couldn’t imagine a country where everyone was free and there was never any danger of losing that freedom permanently.

    I thought about Master Alcot’s labor slaves. They had been enslaved for the crimes they’d committed, or for indebtedness. I suppose they thought they could get away with committing crimes, even though they knew what the penalty would be if they were caught. Not all of them were criminals, though. For some, it was just bad management or bad luck that brought them here. At least labor slaves didn’t have to have their hands pierced. And they weren’t confined indoors, as I was, even if they had to be chained when they worked outside.

    None of that mattered to Cor. He fought Jakon’s training as long as he could, and he might have kept on if it wasn’t for the threat that Master Alcot was growing tired of waiting for him to complete his training and take his assigned place. If he couldn’t be trusted to serve Master Alcot, he would be sold as a labor slave. At least that’s what Jakon told him. I wondered why Jakon wouldn’t just put him with the estate’s labor slaves instead of selling him. But that wasn’t any of my business.

    I don’t know why I admired Cor’s struggles, but I did, even while I hoped that he would give in and accept his fate before it became something much worse. He did give in, of course. His hands were pierced, he was taken to give his oath to Master Alcot, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought that life would become more settled again. How wrong I was.

    There was something in Cor, some spirit that refused to be defeated. Or maybe it was coming from a free nation and being enslaved when he thought he had a real future in front of him. Whatever it was, he clashed with our master time after time, until I thought that surely Master Alcot would give up on him. Then something happened so bad that he was sent to Jakon for retraining. I don’t know what terrible thing he had done, or what Jakon did to him, because he wouldn’t talk about it. But when he came back, he was a different person. He was so quiet and so obedient that I hardly recognized him anymore. I had never been afraid of Jakon before, and I had never heard of him abusing slaves, but after that, I avoided being around him as much as possible.

    Later, I decided it must not have been as bad as it seemed because Cor slowly became more like his own self. Even then, he never said a word about Jakon or what had happened while he was gone for retraining. Things went on more or less normally for some time. Cor became more friendly toward me, but I can’t say that we ever became close. It was better than nothing, though. I was grateful to have someone to talk to, and I was happy that he had accepted his place in the household. I was also envious that he could serve Master Alcot and I couldn’t, but it wasn’t his fault, so I tried not to let it get out of hand.

    I didn’t spend a lot of time in the house, so I didn’t see much of how Cor and Master Alcot worked together or how the master treated him. There were times when Cor seemed happy, but I also saw the sadness that never seemed to go away. He must have missed his family and his country very much.
    Monday, April 14th, 2014
    6:54 am
    Fic: "Three Way Dance" (1/?)
    Author: Beryll
    Story Title: Three Way Dance
    Part: 1/?
    Rating: NC-17
    Warnings: (overall) giant robots with heroic pilots, violence, sex, breeding, science motivated torture, slavery, WIP
    Type: Original
    Word Count: 45.000 and growing
    Setting: dystopian scifi
    Summary: Alexander wanted to be a good soldier, Charlie wanted to go home, Tiberius wanted a quiet life. Things rarely work out exactly as planned.
    Feedback: Yes, please

    Part 1 - Archangel
    3:30 am
    Island Slave Chapter 6 of 8
    Story Title: Island Slave
    Rating: Mature Only!
    Configurations: Male master/male slave. Spattering of female/ slave interaction
    Warnings: Non-graphic flashbacks to child abuse, Slavery, Angst, Torture, Violence. Hurt/Comfort!
    Word count: Approx 2000 per chapter
    Summary: This story is original. Purchased as a sex slave for the Prince of Montag, a traumatized and frightened young man is found to have a rare talent that if exploited might end his sanity, or even his life.
    Feedback: Much appreciated.
    Authors Note: This is a simple story. Can love find a way? Can damage to the psyche be undone? We hope so.
    (Forgive the long delay in posting. Difficult to concentrate... I am in a battle with a rare form of cancer... and determined to win!)

    For all previous chapters just go to tag author: kaydyy



    Chapter Six

    -

    Prince Farahi sat down to dinner at the large, ornate table, opposite his mother. He waited until they had been served before speaking.

    “Mother, the two months are over, and I tried to call --”

    “What two months would those be, dear?” Sophia interrupted.

    “The two months that Diego needed to train Cirris, remember? Anyway, I tried to call him, and his voice mail says he’s out of the country! Why? And where is Cirris? I would also like to know why wasn’t I informed that he was leaving.”

    Sophia cleared her throat. “There are a few things that I haven’t told you. Just because, well, sometimes you’re difficult to talk with. Especially concerning this particular subject.”

    Farahi took a long, calming breath. “Tell me what’s going on.”

    “All right. I will. But first, remind me. Why did we purchase Cirris?”

    “I know, mother,” said Farahi with a sigh. “You wanted me to have my own harem, like some Persian Sheik. You believe it keeps me current with some sort of royal standard. But Cirris was reluctant. Scared, even. I’m not sure he ever agreed to it. He wouldn’t speak to me.”

    “Far, please,” said Sophia. “He is one of your subjects; one who is bought and paid for. It is his duty to see to your needs. This is not something he needs to agree to, or can be allowed to refuse, son.”

    “What does this have to do with Diego being in America?”

    “Long story.Very long. It all started when I decided to have the slave see to my needs. Only, he wouldn’t. He fought--”

    “What needs? You mean--” Farahi gasped, his face turning red.

    “Your father is gone, and I’m alone…” said Sophia under her breath.

    Farahi could only shake his head. “But Mother, Cirrus is not emotionally healthy. You could do more damage… you didn’t hurt him, did you?”

    Sophia sighed hard. “No. I never intended to harm him. You’re missing the point. Diego took him to teach him that he must serve us, and how to do so. Unfortunately, he wasn’t having much luck. So--”

    “Dang it! You did… you hurt that poor boy. Couldn’t you see how out of whack he was? Didn’t you have any sympathy?” asked Farahi.

    “Cirris thinks himself above being a whore… or a slave. But the fact is that he’s not much good at either…or for anything else. He had to be tied him down! I mean…” She rolled her eyes and sighed at her slip up. “Damn. Now, Far, don’t get all worked up again.”

    Farahi looked across the table at his mother, and his eyes narrowed. “Tied down. Oh, Mother. No wonder,” he said. He pushed his plate of food away. “I can’t eat just thinking of it. I would rather not speak to you for awhile, but first, quickly, tell me how all of this fits together with Diego being out of the country and tell me where Cirrus is.”

    “I knew you would take it like this, that’s why I didn’t tell you sooner. You’re the only royalty in the world who doesn’t believe he has any right to--”

    “Mother! Enough!” Farahi could hardly hold his temper any longer. “Just tell me!”

    “I am! The training wasn’t going well, so Diego used Cirris in fighting matches on Narto in exchange for help with his--how shall I put it--his education. Turns out that Cirrus was so good at fighting that some organization from Las Vegas, the UFC--Ultimate Fighting… something--offered a great deal of money for us to bring him there for a cage match. They offered many times what he cost us. At least we would have our money back to purchase a replacement, so I allowed it.”

    Farahi stood up, his voice unsteady with controlled rage. “Without my permission, although you knew perfectly well how I felt. I see. So they are both out of the country. Las Vegas. Wonderful. Tell me, how do I contact Diego?”

    “I’ll have him call you immediately,” Sophia answered, looking down at her plate, then shoving it, hard, across the table.

    * * *

    It was late night in Las Vegas; however the sounds of traffic and the dancing of light still invaded the hotel room. Diego was alone in his suite, except for Cirrus who was currently on his knees with his hands cuffed behind his back, trapped between the guard’s muscular body and the wall.

    Diego almost laughed when his cell phone rang-- it seemed to ring most often when he was fucking the slave-- and he dug it out of his pocket. He looked at the number calling, and instantly let go of Cirrus so that he could answer it.

    “Sophia!” Diego said into the phone with surprise. “Hold on a minute.”

    He pulled his cock from the slave’s mouth. “Don’t move,” he warned under his breath.

    “Yes, my Queen?” Diego said. “This is a pleasant surprise. Did you wish for a report?”

    Diego listened intently, his brows raised and he finally said, “I shall do so.”

    Diego hung up. He again took hold of Cirrus by his hair. Without hesitation, he resumed his activity, only harder now with annoyance, banging the slave’s head to the wall and grinding against him.

    While savoring the violent sex, Diego began going over in his mind all that had happened in the last weeks; deciding just how much he should tell Prince Farahi.

    By the time he was sated and spent, and he had chained Cirrus to the bedpost for the night, he was ready to give Farahi an edited version of events, including the reason why he could not come home right away.

    Contracts. He was obligated to more fights in the next few weeks. To break these contracts would mean serious litigation for the government of Montag.

    Not that any of it was true.

    In truth, Cirrus had not done so well in Vegas. His natural skill and the fact that he couldn’t be forced to practice, had seen the more popular choices of opponent refuse to get into the ring with him, since it would seriously up their chances for real injury.

    However, a willing opponent was found by the name of Mister Qiáng--a black-belted martial arts specialist.

    The first match had been held in a small barred cage with Mr. Q’s experience pitted against Cirrus‘s raw talent. The cage itself had not given the slave much room to move. He had provided the audience with excitement due to his agility and quickness, however, his rival had been slated to win and did so.

    This left the Silent Slayer’s reputation in shreds.


    His second fight had been a tag team match with two popular show wrestlers. This time he was taken on to prove that Americans were and always would be the best. Cirrus had been given a partner too; not that he understood it or at any time attempted to tag him. For all he knew, the fourth man was his enemy also.

    Later, after he had lost, the write up on the match had called him cocky and too conceited to share the limelight as explanation for his failure to use his partner. His ego had been his downfall was what the sportswriters proclaimed.

    Now Diego was trying desperately to find more matches and win more money while there was still a spark of interest. But it had happened so quickly that the so-called impossibly adroit fighter from the tropical island, who would not smile or speak, was already something of a joke.

    All the Montag guard could manage to find for work were second rate clubs, and these he declined as a matter of pride. A week passed, and then two.

    Discouraged, Diego began to consider going home. If possible, without Cirrus. Without proof of his failure. What if he just left him there in the city, homeless, and then claimed that he had run away?

    * * *

    The phone call came two days after Diego had given up.

    It was an invitation to one final show. A Death Match. Diego, who was leaning towards simply freeing the boy there in Las Vegas, agreed, but it was with some trepidation. He was sure that Prince Farahi, if he heard about it, would put a stop to it.

    But a Death Match! Major bucks! It was the only way left to make any money with Cirris. These very private fights were exactly as promoted, and rare enough to draw a whole lot of money from the richest men from countries far and wide. Men with nothing better to spend their wealth on besides their own entertainment. The scalping price of one ticket to watch such a show sometimes went up as high as a quarter of a million dollars.

    Although the match itself was not a set-up in the strictest sense, Diego was instructed to enter Cirris in a weakened condition. This bout was being promoted as a mismatch. However, with Cirris’s reputation, he was not to be counted out. The problem was that Cirris, should he defeat his opponent, could not be forced to deal a killing blow, not for any amount of money. Very few people actually knew this. However, Diego knew and so it had to be Cirrus who died.

    Diego understood his instructions and agreed to them.

    If only the slave would submit to him! If only he was trainable, he could instead return him to the Prince and gloat over his accomplishment. But no, all he would face from Farahi and Sophia would be disappointment.

    The next morning, he did not allow Cirris free of his bonds, nor did he feed him breakfast. Aware of the boy's eyes on him while he himself ate, he again found himself facing the old frustrations of having no solutions he was happy with.

    No matter now. The end of this particular problem was near.

    Diego packed everything up and called for a limo to drive him and Cirris to the airport. Even via private plane, with the stopovers needed by the pilot, it was more than a one day trip to get back to Montag. Cirris remained well in the back of the craft, out of sight. Twice he was taken to the bathroom and offered water, otherwise he was ignored as he was flown half-way around the world.

    How he would have loved to have been able to look out the windows! Cirris didn’t fear flying, despite the tragedy he had survived. Instead, it held a fondness in his memory for the only time in his life he had been happily innocent.

    But, as usual, any enjoyment he might have had was denied him. Cirris didn’t even know where they were going. He did recognize the island the minute he stepped from the plane steps out onto it, and he put his nose to the air. It had a distinct smell of coconut and pineapple, flowers and spices.

    Home. It was here he had grown up and he knew almost every inch of it. How he wished he could just run along the shore! Instead, like the luggage, he was placed in the waiting car and he soon found himself back at Luthias’s place.

    The hotel and casino brought warm feeling to Cirris, and his eyes searched for Mr. Luthias as he was firmly escorted through the lobby. No time was given him to reminisce. Diego just took him straight to his room and chained him down.

    “Sorry, kid, I really am,” he said to Cirrus that night, the night before the fight, honestly contrite.

    * * *

    It was late afternoon and the fight was about to begin.

    The lights were dimmed all around, and brightened upon the stage. The two combatants were announced.

    The man who called himself Earthquake pounded his feet down with each step as he walked toward the ring, sounding much like his name amidst the ohhs and ahhs and excited buzz of the small prestigious crowd.

    He was a man who had killed before. Twice before. He had no qualms about competing in a death match.

    All he wanted to do was destroy his opponent, and do so as painfully and slowly as the audience wished. Those were his orders. That was the task which would win him one hundred thousand dollars. Not a bad payday for at most an hour’s work. One such bout a year would see him living comfortably.

    The wrestler was huge, chosen purposely to provide the needed mismatch. This was a popular theme, that of there being an underdog facing impossible odds. Often, the disadvantaged fighter even won.

    Impossible was right on the mark. Earthquake was almost six and a half feet tall and well over four hundred pounds. He entered the cage and crouched like a sumo. He took up half of the room of the small enclosure all by himself.

    “The guy looks really mad. Think it’s just ‘roid rage?” Diego asked the promoter, meaning that his temperament could be being effected by steroids.

    The promoter shook his head. “No, his orders are to kill your kid, and he needs to put himself into a certain mind set,” the man answered.

    Cirris was led into the ring, and he felt a sense of doom as he faced this incredible-sized man.

    Normally, at least here on this island, he had always had plenty of room to escape an attack and launch a strike. However, this time he was standing in what was half the size of a normal wrestling ring. Also, instead of ropes it had padded metal posts and horizontal bars along the tops and sides.

    Remaining still and quiet as he always did, Cirris was forced to be too close for comfort. His opponent's bulk wasn't the problem, he had easily defeated very large men before, it was the lack of space, just as it had been with Mr. Q in Las Vegas.

    He waited patiently for his opponent to make the first move. However, this man took his stance at the very center of the cell, then just stood there. His eyes were locked on Cirris like a bulldog, his muscled arms out away from his sides, bent and ready. He took a half-hearted swing when he got close enough, but Cirris darted away.

    The size of the ring proved to be daunting. Cirris tried to avoid the first blow, ready with one of his own, when his back hit the bar. It was then that he realized just how small the area was; he was hardly able to keep more than a foot or two distance between himself and his opponent. It gave him barely room to duck sideways, and none at all to counter move. So he skipped back from the monster who was trying to close on him, circling, dancing on his toes nimbly, using up a lot of energy to avoid being trapped.

    His opponent, on the other hand, just turned enough to face the slim blond boy, remaining in the center and simply pivoting, not expending any energy besides an occasional swat with his arm to keep Cirrus moving.

    Cirris was without his usual stamina after the last few days without much for food or rest. Just the night before he had serviced Diego and some of his old friends for many hours. After five minutes, the young slave was sweating and his chest heaved for air, while the huge wrestler just moved with him, waiting for his opportunity, tiring the kid out.

    Finally, Cirris ducked low under the man’s arm, intending to stand again to the side of him, but his speed was off, and the man brought both fists down at the right time, striking his arm and side like twin hammers. The impact forced him over to hit the bars with such force that his teeth clipped together and took off the tip of his tongue. The minor wound immediately bled profusely. He bounced off with painful abruptness and tried to stop the forward momentum that was taking him straight back into Earthquake’s arms, but he had no time to do so.

    The wrestler grabbed him and entwined both arms around his body in a bear-hug, lifting him off the floor and squeezing with all his might. Cirris could feel his back give and crack as the thick arms tightened and sharp pain rocketed up and down his spine as his opponent continued to jerk his arms together, digging knuckles into his flesh.

    His thoughts were dimming when Earthquake let go with a victorious smile, and he collapsed at the man’s feet.

    With the boy lying on the floor, the man threw his body on top in a kamikaze move. Purposely, he made sure that his weight landed first and foremost upon the boy’s upper body, crushing it and flattening the prominent ribs. The huge wrestler felt a couple of them snap under him. Perfect! Broken ribs would hurt terribly when sat or stomped on, and would permanently slow the boy down.

    It was the beginning of the end for Cirris. Both of them knew it.

    However, the match needed to be drawn out at least another ten or fifteen minutes, and the man had no problem with that.

    Pulling Cirrus to his feet by the hair, Earthquake proceeded to punch him in the face, chest and stomach, not using his full force yet, but hard enough to draw more blood from his mouth and knock his wind away. He then began to bodily slam the boy against the bars with force, doing this a couple times on all four sides of the ring so every spectator could see the helpless Cirris gasp in agony.

    Down to the floor they again went, where Earthquake proceeded to wrap his muscular legs like a vice about the slave, and he squeezed his thighs together, gritting his teeth as he applied pressure. Cirris writhed and struggled, panicked at the trap, at the suffocation. Pain was becoming intolerable, and he almost passed out. Seeing this, the big wrestler let him go and got to his feet.

    Cirris lay there for a few seconds, recovering, but then he grabbed the bars and pulled himself up. He was staggering as he tried to climb up and over the bars; too weak, he kept falling back.

    Earthquake was laughing at the sight.

    "No, no… no escape, not for you, little one. You already look nackered! Don't want to fight when you can't win, do you? Well, fight you will, as I beat you to death," said man loudly, listening to the sadistic encouragement from the spectators.

    Taking Cirris by one arm, he threw him across the cage and into the bars across from them. Before the younger man could collapse, Earthquake charged and threw his weight against the smaller body. He then held himself there, pressing the breath out of Cirris as hard as he could.

    Upon release, Cirris sank slowly to the floor, hearing only the echo of Earthquake’s laughter.

    He was lifted up again, slammed again, and then thrown across the stage where he went down in a heap, trying desperately to get his wind. Once more, he was lifted and flung, unable to stop himself from hitting the side bars. Half-senseless, Cirris had no idea how many times he was thrown from one end of the ring to the other, or how many times he was body slammed. He couldn’t breathe well and he could taste blood, could feel it drool from his mouth. Pain was all encompassing.

    Over him, he heard the huge man ask him if he was having trouble breathing. He could hear the audience respond to that with whistles and calls and he heard one voice clearly. “Strangle him!”

    He felt Earthquake grasp hold of his arm again, but instead of lifting him, the giant wrestler dragged him to the center of the stage and kicked him over onto his back. All Earthquake had to do was pin his shoulders down for ten seconds to win an ordinary match. However, this was not in any way a usual bout.

    Earthquake knew what he had to do. The giant man let his huge buttocks drop full force upon Cirrus’s ribs, and then sat there on him with huge knees dug into his arm muscles. The pain was severe, and Cirris lay there with his head tossing back and forth, struggling for air, unable to do more than squeak as he suffocated.

    Earthquake, with goading by the audience, did not allow ten seconds to go by without taking Cirris by the hair and lifting his head up enough to start the count all over again. He got up onto his knees, digging his full weight into the slim arms for a few seconds before dropping back down onto the suffering Cirris. This went on for another five minutes, before he finally placed his legs up over the boy’s shoulders, making sure to place every pound on the boy’s flattened chest, letting the count go to the end.

    The referee declared Earthquake the official winner. The crowd was almost silent, intent on watching the real ending.

    Earthquake stayed on top of his defeated opponent, watching Cirris’s struggles weaken and his eyes glaze. It was a death match, and it was not truly over until Cirris’s ragged breathing halted forever.

    With the end near, Earthquake got up long enough to flip Cirris over prone, sitting on his back and tightening an arm about his throat, jerking it backwards, lifting his head and bending his back with all his strength. Cirris, by this time, could hardly move as he was strangled. It didn’t take long before his weakly struggling body went completely limp. Earthquake squeezed even harder for another half a minute before letting go. The boy’s head fell to the ground like a rock, and remained there.

    Earthquake bellowed his triumph, standing up with a loud grunt, and putting a foot on Cirris’s body.

    “So much for your wonder boy,” he said roughly in Diego‘s direction, shaking his fists over his head.

    * * *

    Just before Earthquake was declared the winner, Prince Farahi rushed into the sports hall and stopped dead at the door. He had gotten there as fast as he could after hearing the news, but not soon enough. Panic seized him.

    Instantly, before he had taken a single step inside, two security men grabbed him, each holding one arm.

    Surprised, he looked quickly from one man to another and said, “That is my slave! I gave no permission for this!”

    The guards held him. One growled. “You will not interfere!”

    In anguish, Farahi stopped resisting and watched as Cirris was throttled. “No!“ he kept saying, “No! Stop this!“ No one even glanced in his direction. He watched the huge wrestler stand and holler his victory over the bloody, unmoving slave.

    Farahi was finally able to jerk himself free of the guards, even as he told them who he was, and he rushed up upon the stage.

    The guards followed, unsure what to do. All three men stood there over Cirrus. One of the guards asked, “So he is your property? What would you like done with the body? Fed to the sharks, perhaps?”

    Farahi knelt down without answering. Very gently he turned the body over and... was that a breath? He looked up and sideways, but both guards had turned around and were busy with the crowd, most of whom are dealing with the winning or losing of their money.

    Earthquake was still being congratulated. Farahi looked again at Cirrus, thinking that he saw another shallow breath.

    Farahi was well aware that if Cirris was still alive, the huge wrestler would be forced to come back and finish him off, which would probably take all of a minute. Thinking fast, he picked Cirrus up, taking as much care as possible without rousing suspicion.

    Unobtrusively, using a fireman’s carry and swiping angry tears from his eyes, the young prince took the beaten slave away.

    * * *


    Saturday, April 12th, 2014
    3:39 pm
    FIC: Control, Chapter 23
    Title: Control
    Author: ckingsbridge
    Summary: When Control agent Joaquin Castillo finds himself unintentionally bound to a brainwashed sex slave, he vows to restore the boys memories and set him free. Then he discovers the boys true identity, and everything goes straight to hell.
    Rating: NC-17
    Configuration: M/m
    Word Count: ~6,500 this chapter
    Warnings: Sexual slavery and all attendant consent issues; D/s; erotic humiliation; bondage; corporal discipline; non-sexual violence and gore
    Status: Ongoing serial (WIP)
    Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is unintentional.
    Authors Note: Feedback and concrit appreciated!

    Chapter Twenty-Three: Close Quarters
    Saturday, March 1st, 2014
    3:09 pm
    FIC: Control, Chapter 19
    Title: Control
    Author: ckingsbridge
    Summary: When Control agent Joaquin Castillo finds himself unintentionally bound to a brainwashed sex slave, he vows to restore the boys memories and set him free. Then he discovers the boys true identity, and everything goes straight to hell.
    Rating: NC-17
    Configuration: M/m
    Word Count: ~3,900 this chapter
    Warnings: Sexual slavery and all attendant consent issues; D/s; erotic humiliation; bondage; corporal discipline; non-sexual violence and gore
    Status: Ongoing serial (WIP)
    Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is unintentional.
    Authors Note: Feedback and concrit appreciated!

    Chapter Nineteen: Do Not Detain
    Monday, March 3rd, 2014
    4:26 pm
    The Rules of Service (Part 20)
    Title: The Rules of Service (Chapter 20)
    Author: thetammyjo
    Summary: Darrin and Lida continue their testing and learn something that might be very important.
    Rating: NC-17
    Configuration: f/m
    Word Count: 1349
    Warnings: slavery, sex, discussion and hints of possible abuse or punishment
    Status: Ongoing serial (WIP)

    Author’s Note: Please just leave me a note to let me know if you read it.

    As always my LJ posts are unbeta so please do not concern yourself too much with grammar and spelling issues though if the results of dyslexia really annoy you, then don't read.  I would simply like a comment that you've read it.

    You can find the new update here.

    Previous chapters and other stories on my LJ can be found here.
    Tuesday, March 11th, 2014
    6:18 pm
    The Tutor, Part Five
    Title: The Tutor, Part Five
    Author: miri_thompson
    Genre: Fantasy; slavefic; (Halcrest verse)
    Warnings: Institutional slavery
    Pairings or Relationships: Male Master; Male Slave
    Word Count: 2,264 words in Part Five
    Beta theatregirl7299
    Notes: For those of you who have read other Halcrest stories, this one takes place after Sons of Obsidian and Brothers of the Watch. (If you haven’t read them, don’t worry. This can stand alone.)
    Summary:

    Cole Toth might be a slave, but he's still an aristocrat by birth and an influential figure in Halcrest. He's far above serving as a mere tutor to Brock Parr's brats. Yet his master expects him to do just that.

    When Brock mentioned needing a tutor for his boys, Cole was the last slave he had in mind. But now he's stuck with the prickly and haughty young man. Keeping his temper in the face of Cole's daily disdain is hard enough, but keeping the lad safe and ignorant of the plot against him seems near impossible . . .

    [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]
    Thursday, April 10th, 2014
    1:39 pm
    Breaking New Ground: two hand slaves stories - Petros
    Title: Breaking New Ground: Petros, part one
    Word count: 710
    Configurations: m/m
    Rating: PG
    Warnings: None, really.
    Summary: This is a spin-off from the original hand slaves novels, Hidden Boundaries and Crossing Boundaries. Petros and Simon are two slaves in Jordane Alcot’s household, and they offer another view of people and events there. Petros is a bed slave, a character in both novels. Simon is a labor slave, a character in Crossing Boundaries.

    Master Alcot’s household is not a normal one. It isn’t my place to say whether that is good or bad, even if I could make such a judgment. A slave has no such right. I don’t even have the right to speak (even in the privacy of my mind) about those I serve. Still, here I am, steadfastly defiant of my place in the world, watching, as all slaves must, but keeping my face and posture properly submissive. Sometimes I think that Cor senses what goes on in my head, but he has never given a hint. He wouldn’t. His own experience as a slave binds us in some indefinable way, even though that link has faded since his fate took him back out of slavery. He also possesses an honor that would never allow any slave to come to harm through his actions. Whatever he knows or suspects about my attitude, he would never betray me.

    So! As I said, ours is not a normal household. We are a jumble of hand slaves and labor slaves who don’t always stay within our proper boundaries, and masters who disregard the proprieties and break the rules of our country in breathtaking ways. If our guests knew how far Master Alcot has come from his position as a traditional land owner, they would be shocked. Publicly, he is increasingly known as one of the more radical senators, but his private life is exactly that: strictly private. We all work together to keep it that way; when company is in the house, every one of us knows our roles and how to perform them. Tomas and I are the perfect slaves, respectful and eager to serve, and Master Cor and Master Alcot are the perfect slave owners. The twins? Ah, the twins. They are shunted off to the labor slaves’ dormitory, where Simon will gladly do his best to prevent them from causing any mischief.

    All of this… change, for lack of a better word, is because of Cor, of course. Until he came, this was as proper a household as you might find anywhere among the landholders of Carhagen. The only unusual thing about it was that I was a bed slave who was not allowed to service my master. I had been a gift to him, from a friend who must have thought he was in need of a bed slave. At least I suppose that must have been his intention, Why else would he have made a gift of someone whose only function was to be beautiful and sexually alluring?  Why not a personal slave with some practical skills? But as I quickly found out, Master Alcot had no room in his life for a bed slave. As far as I could tell, he had no sexual needs at all. He was kind to me, in an impersonal way, and made no demands, though I would have been glad to serve him in any manner within my abilities. If it hadn’t been for Nuri giving me small jobs to do, I would have been completely useless. So I drifted between the house and the slave quarters, feeling more and more like a ghost as time went on.

    My life ran on like this for two boring and wasted years. I had nothing to look forward to but growing older, losing my looks, and eventually being discarded by my master. You might think I was unhappy, even bitter. You would be right. Whatever life I might have had if I’d remained free became more than a dark mockery. That possibility had been taken from me before I was old enough to know what I was losing, in order to train me and make me fit to serve a master. And I wasn’t even allowed to do that. How could I not be bitter? Who could have predicted how much my life would eventually change? Who could have imagined that, in a nation where slavery is for life, a slave could be freed and could even become a master, or that he could become my owner? Of all the strange things that have happened since I was given to Master Alcot as a gift so many years ago, that is the strangest.
    Tuesday, April 8th, 2014
    10:31 pm
    Party: Worm's Eye View
    Title: Party (Prt III)
    Wordcount:1500
    Configurations: F/f
    Warnings: No
    Feedback: Much appreciated!
    Plot summary: Being at a party is no fun if you HAVE to be there...

    Gallia and Marlia, with their respective owners, arrive at the party...and resentments start to surface.

    http://romanumeternal.livejournal.com/3686.html
    Monday, April 7th, 2014
    7:16 pm
    By Our Own Hands
    Title: By Our Own Hands
    Author: miri_thompson
    Beta: clodiametelli elrhiarhodan theatregirl7299
    Word Count: 5,600 (one shot)
    Rating: PG-13
    Warnings: non-consensual slavery; birch rod
    Pairings M/M; male master, male slave
    Notes: Halcrest verse; a short story about Brock, Shane and Devon Parr that takes place in between Brothers of the Watch and The Tutor. It can also stand on its own.
    Summary: Brock needs to teach his slave Shane—and his younger brother Dev—a lesson that will stick.
    7:10 am
    Fic: "More Than Friends" (1/1)
    Author: Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll
    Story Title: More than friends
    Rating: PG
    Configurations: m/m
    Warnings: -
    Word Count: 2300
    Setting: 'Phoenix Empire' verse
    Summary: Spending a relaxed evening on their own Josh and Jay have a chance to talk about their relationship
    Feedback:
    Yes, please

    Notes: The whole story so far of Leesha and his pets can also be found on AO3 here
    Phoenix Empire Timeline & Index

    More Than Friends
    Saturday, April 5th, 2014
    2:09 pm
    FIC: Control, Chapter 22
    Title: Control
    Author: ckingsbridge
    Summary: When Control agent Joaquin Castillo finds himself unintentionally bound to a brainwashed sex slave, he vows to restore the boys memories and set him free. Then he discovers the boys true identity, and everything goes straight to hell.
    Rating: NC-17
    Configuration: M/m
    Word Count: ~4,900 this chapter
    Warnings: Sexual slavery and all attendant consent issues; D/s; erotic humiliation; bondage; corporal discipline; non-sexual violence and gore
    Status: Ongoing serial (WIP)
    Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is unintentional.
    Authors Note: Feedback and concrit appreciated!

    Chapter Twenty-Two: Fair Trade
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