To all who submitted stories

[Rabbit1]

Give them time Rabbit. I presume that they may not realize that you are posting stories on a daily basis.

I have posted all the back stories I can---that I have identifing paperwork on --I have posted all stories except what is submitted today

[Rabbit1]

Jane and Carol at the Hunt.
CHAPTER ONE

“You'll enjoy it so much, Jane,” Carol told her enthusiastically. “Just think; a whole three weeks in role together!”

Jane was dubious. Her cousin's proposal was exciting, but Jane had never role-played before strangers and she inwardly quailed at the very idea of appearing naked in public. But, deep within, a queer little thrill at the prospect stirred.

Carol laughed at her. She knew very well what was troubling Jane. A veteran of several BDSM Club events, she herself had once shared the same reservations.

“It isn't at all what you may think, dear!” she said earnestly. “Take it from me, BDSM Clubs are extremely tough on anything sexual; they're positively Puritanical on the point. No-one, particularly a woman, will be subject to any sexual innuendo even, or anything of that kind! And, don't forget, this will be a Femdom event; the men present will all be slaves and well under the control of their Mistresses. And also, we'll be there in animal roles, and these people are very experienced in letting people play their parts; they will think of us purely as animals; attractive and graceful animals perhaps” (she chuckled) “but animals just the same!”

Jane, despite herself, was almost convinced. But at once she put an unerring finger at the weak spot in her cousin's scheme.

“If this is a Feminine Domination event,” she said, “they won't want subordinate women there. Surely it would make a mockery of the whole thing?”

Carol's brow creased in a frown; her cousin had a point!

“Yes; it would rather,” she admitted. “But we wouldn't be present as woman, but as female animals. Anyway, that's the argument I'll put to Lady Isobel when I see her tomorrow. Why don't you come too? One look at her will put your mind at rest!”

And to this proposition Jane agreed; after all, what could it possibly cost her?

Noon the next day found them driving along a narrow lane somewhere near Minchinhampton. A broad gateway flanked by two stone lions led by a winding route through extensive park lands to a large, Georgian mansion.

Carol parked in front of the house, slid out from beneath the steering wheel and walked confidently up the broad steps to the imposing front door where she pulled insouciantly upon the bell rope at its side, while Jane stood uncertainly at her cousin's side, a little over-awed by the grandeur and scale of their surroundings. Her equilibrium was further disturbed when the door was opened by an immaculately dressed Butler.

To Jane's secret admiration Carol was perfectly composed in the presence of this forbidding apparition.

“Good afternoon, Perkins,” she said airily. “We have an appointment with your Mistress!”

“Quite so, Miss Carol,” he murmured in reply. “Yourself and...?”

He glanced at Jane, an eyebrow raised in polite enquiry.

“My cousin; Jane,” explained Carol.

“Of course!” he gravely replied. “Good afternoon, Miss Jane. If the ladies will follow me...?”

On their way along the broad corridor, with its walls hung with paintings and its high ceiling, Jane's hand sought out that of her cousin for assurance, and it was thus they entered the large, sunny morning room; hand in hand like two children.

'Lady' Isobel turned out to be an incongruously large and jolly-looking woman in her middle years. When they were decorously ushered into the room, they found her poring over a pile of official looking documents, steel-rimmed pince-nez perched upon her ample nose. Perkins uttered a polite cough, and she looked up from her papers.

The smile of welcome on her face changed to one of tender and appreciative wonder when she saw them together. Two young, pretty girls, hand in hand, virginally fresh, and identically dressed from their tiny sandals to their simple dresses and even to the leather collars around their slender throats. Carol she had met on several occasions, but the other girl – who might well have been her twin – was unknown to her.

Introductions were made, Perkins was dispatched for refreshments, and the three settled down to the business of their meeting.

Isobel sat in a comfortable armchair, facing 'the twins', as she was already mentally thinking of them. They sat opposite on a sofa, close together as if loath to be separated. Every so often their hands would steal into each other's, and they spoke alternatively, often completing each other's sentences, obliging their hostess to look from one to other. marvelling as she did so at their uncanny resemblance to each other.

“We know it might be a problem,” began Carol.

“Because of it being a Female Domination event,” added Jane.

“But we wouldn't be attending as slaves,” said Carol.

“But as animals – female animals, of course!” her cousin said, giggling infectiously.

“So we could be hunted...” “Like the male slaves...” “Except that when we're caught...” “Our new owner would treat us as animals...” “We're very good at it – really!” Carol ended earnestly.

Isobel looked at their anxious faces and burst into helpless laughter, the tears running down her homely face.

“Oh, my dears!” she gasped. “Of course you may take part; if it was my sole decision. You shall both stay for lunch, and meet Lady Sarah – it's at her place that the Hunt is taking place. If she agrees – and I'm sure she will – the other Ladies will fall into line; I'm sure!”

With that, she sent them both off under the charge of Perkins to prepare for lunch.

In the large and luxurious bathroom, Carol acquainted Jane with the details of Lady Isobel's eccentric menage.

“Perkins is a permanent resident,” Carol informed her cousin. “He's a slave, of course. Did you notice his collar? It's silver, you know!”

Jane was astonished at this bland declaration. Carol went on.

“Lady Isobel has quite a few slaves. Some temporary – weekends and holidays, and so forth – and two or three permanent. We'll probably be waited on at lunch by one of her transvestite slave-maids.”

Jane giggled, and was about to express her amazement that anyone would want to be a transvestite, let alone a slave, before remembering her own reason for being here with Carol. Wisely, she remained silent and joined her cousin in the large shower.

Showered and lightly scented, they descended the sweeping staircase in Perkins' wake. By some triumph of organisation, their sandals had been cleaned and polished, and their dresses pressed and ironed during their brief absence in the bathroom.

They entered onto the sweeping terrace on which lunch was to be taken, Carol confidently – because she had met Lady Sarah before – and Jane timidly, her hand stealing again into that of her cousin to give her confidence.

Everything went perfectly swimmingly, Lady Sarah being as struck by the cousins as her friend. They departed with the assurance that the rest of the Ladies would agree to their presence, odd though this innovation was. But they were warned that one member of the Group, a certain 'Lady Noire', might be awkward about it.

CHAPTER TWO


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[Rabbit1]

The porn star wetter

A fantasy about women using men.

Bob was just out of college and keen to use his degree in media studies. He wanted and fantasised about a job as a producer with hundreds of girls lusting after him. However after six months he was working in a local shop and fifty applications had produced nothing. Then he saw an advert for deputy production assistants for a company. He noticed that it was an adult film company but still applied considering himself open-minded and also knowing that it was easier to get a position that way. He was surprised when he was offered an interview and on reading the information discovered that it was a well established company and all the stuff in the leaflet was about pensions and other adult dull things. The salary was very good so he was surprised he had been considered. When he got to the interview he found he was one of six candidates and all were male. A panel of three including one tough looking woman interviewed him. She was Sandra Jones a very large lady in her forties with short mannish hair but massive breasts and she was quite aggressive towards Bob asking him quite a few personal questions. He tried to charm her but was sure he had failed. When all six had been interviewed they asked one a very handsome lad to go though a second time and Bob sat back annoyed not to have got the job. Then the secretary returned and called Bob out. He entered the room to find that it was just him and Sandra Jones.

She was sitting in an armchair and got Bob to sit opposite him and told him she had a few more questions. These turned out to be about his private life and he answered a little worried, as he was sure these were not the sort of questions relevant to the job. Finally she said to him, " I like you and the job is yours. However you have to sign a two-year fully binding contract. We are training you and I do not want you running off with our secrets!" Bob was jubilant and the thought of getting a real media position and said so. Sandra smiled and said, " Well you have one more test to pass and the last person refused it! However let me make it clear Bob you work for me as my deputy assistant. That is the lowest of the low Bob. Now I make lesbian porn movies but real ones! On my movies the girls really come my viewers insist! After all a woman knows when a girl is faking it! Any problems so far?" "No" "Good! Now part of your duties apart from my needs is to ensure that the actresses are ready to perform. Happy with that?" Bob was confused and looked blank so she said, "Male porn stars have someone on the set called a fluffer who gets them hard. Well on my sets its all female apart from one man and his job is to ensure the girls are wet and eager and sometimes to bring them off. We call him the wetter and that will be you!" Bob gasped at that and Sandra smiled and said, " Still want the job?" he considered carefully and realised that this was the only media job he had been offered and that after two years he would be experienced and able to get another position much easier so he said, " Yes! But how many and how often?" " Depends on the film and the girls! Most of the actresses I employ are mainly straight and girls do not push their buttons so you have too! However that is only part of your duties. You will be trained in all aspects of media as well by me! Plus baby you have to keep me happy understand!" Bob was confused and then blushed as he realised what the woman was getting at. However he loved sex and did not have a girlfriend at the minute and while she was ugly she was a woman so he nodded. Sandra smiled and said, " Good! Now your final test is to ensure you can do the wetting part of your duties! You can show me how you give head! Knell and lick me off honey!" And with that she pulled up her skirt and opened her thighs. Bob gasped at the sight of her large pale thighs and pussy covered in thick black matted hair. However he knelt and moved closer. Sandra did not taste over fresh as he got close but he moved closer and gently extended his tongue and licked her. She moaned and said, " More honey and deeper! I want to come!" Bob did as she ordered and was soon licking away. Sandra grabbed his head and pushed him hard against her so her pussy was in his mouth and he licked away as her thick juices filled his mouth. She came groaning after a few minutes and pushed him away. She stood and ordered him up saying, " Not bad at all baby! Now sign here honey! You start on Monday at ten!" Bob signed and when he had signed Sandra pinched his bottom and said, " Good! I am sure I am going to enjoy working you!" As the happy but slightly confused boy went home he wondered if she had meant working with him and hoped she had.


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[Rabbit1]

The wind blowing through her hair, as always, was invigorating to Janice. Not only did she enjoy driving her BMW convertible, but returning from a very successful and enjoyable weekend visit with one of her mentors added to her feeling of well being and contentment.

In fact, Janet was very, very happy as she continued to roll the figures over in her head and once again played through the day's conversation between her and Lee Morgan.

"Of course there is lots of money to be made with the breedings,"Lee had said, "but I want you to realize that the sale of the calf is just the tip of the iceberg as the less educated say. Besides purchasing the calf, which can net you between $25,000 and 50,000, there are other incomes that really push up the worth of not only this particular woman, but her daughter and the breeding line that you can establish. For example, at the breeding itself, a lot of clients will want to come and watch the proceedings. So right there, you can probably get between 6 and 10k per person per day!

"Now the owner of the bull will probably want half and I recommend you talk to Marissa, you remember her, the gal who sat next to you last night, about using her new bull Balthazar. He already has a following and you can probably count on 12 to 20 couples wanting to attend. That means that you can get another $200,000 for the breeding because Marissa prefers weekend events which generally last for about two days and are quite elegant. "

"And truth be told, I agree with that. They are more intimate and much more relaxed than the four or five hour breeding sessions we did in the old days. The guests actually become more acquainted with the cow and her calf and this builds future interest for the calving and the breed line, and of course that means you have a dedicated following and can count on more money in the future. And of course, if they come to the breeding, then you can probably count on a lot of those people coming to the calving. And now we can have the calving induced so you can actually schedule it, and again that could be another $200,000 even before the calf is sold."

"Additionally if you film the breeding and the calving and sell them on line at a protected web site or distribute them via CDs using some clandestine courier networks, you can easily double your money again without taking any more risk or doing any more work, or using any other cow."

Then Lee said, "Marissa also does an introductory weekend where the cow and her calf are entered into the herd and are marked with the herd signs. Now this may seem like a non event to you, but a large number of clients are quite interested in the reactions of both the cow and the calf when they first meet their bull and how they react to their markings. It is especially good when the calf knows that the cow will soon be bred with the bull and that in the future she too will be bred. I particularly like the way Marissa handles these events because they are generally much like a normal party. Even the calf and her cow dress up, looking fresh and happy, then about halfway through the night, the bull is brought in where they cow and calf first meet him. That in itself is great and then the questions from the other guests as they talk to the cow and her calf really play with their minds and it makes for a great evening."


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[Rabbit1]

WARNING: This story contains extreme racist scenes and slurs. This story takes place in the south before the civil war and is about a Caucasian girl dominating two Afro-Americans. In this story you may find racist slurs and the N-word used frequently. This is only to make the story more realistic and NOT to alienate or offend people of color

ABIGAIL’S TWO DAY GIFT

April 10, 1862, Huntsville, Alabama

It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was shining in the sky and everywhere on the plantation there was a cheerful atmosphere, cheerful as it can be, being a cotton plantation in the northern part of Alabama during the Civil War. Abigail Smith woke up on this beautiful day with a big smile on her face, it was her eighteenths birthday. For over five years she bugged her father, who was a slave owner, to buy her two private slaves that only she could punishing. For the past couple of years only she knew how wet she would get down there just thinking that one day two beautiful slaves will be in her possession.
Her dad owned a big plantation with hundreds of slaves but none of them tickled Abigail’s fancy. Every time she heard the whip cracking on one of her father’s Negroes she imagined herself being alone with a very pretty Negro girl. Sometimes late at night, whenever someone was punished, she would open her window and masturbate while listening to the sound of the whip cracking. She always wanted that power, and today she would get it. Today her father promised Abby to take her with him to the slave market and buy all the necessary tools in order for her to punish any slave she desired. Also her father told her that afterwards he will buy her two beautiful slave girls that would only answer to her. She was very exciting knowing the fun she will have with her new properties.
As she finished getting dressed she was disrupted by her father who entered the room with a gift. The package was a very long white box with a large red bow on it. As Abigail opened the box she was ecstatic to find a very long whip, with five leather tail, a rattan cane and a wooded paddle; this painful devices were given to her in order to properly train her slaves any time she wanted to. After she put on her leather boots, Abby and father left for the slave market.
On the way, Abby’s heart was pounding like a drum; she couldn’t wait to get her hand on the two Negroes that soon will be in her care. Ridding through the hot humid weather of Alabama, Abby imagined her perfect slaves; tall will dark skin, perky round breasts and asses she could whip anytime she felt like it. Thinking about the fun she will have with her Negroes she started to get a little wet. The tension was really killing her.

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[Rabbit1]

'I'd be lying if I wouldn't admit that I realized in
a lot of things I'm a bit, sort of, stupid and slow. And
it takes me about, kind of like, 10 years later than my
fellow girlfriends in, kind of like...finding out about
certain things, and...I would basically say that, you know,
I'm a bit, sort of stupid and a bit sort of slow, you know,
and... I think it's lot to do with my...inability to...
take in and learn about things with my brain. I kind of
have to do it with my senses, is kind of all I got, really.
And when you do things like that it takes ages, you know.
And I, for example #like#, no way I can drive a car. I had
a car for one year and I think I crashed it, sort of...
twice a month. And it's just to clever for me, you know,
it's got no logic, traffic - just got no logic for me.'
Me, Dec. 1th 1993 on Swedish TV1

http://www.abc.se/~m8996/bjork/interviw/ansikte.html


Me, Björk Guðmundsdottír, 39 years old, admit to have been wrong all my life until now. I have been wrong about myself and womans in general. Although, my distinctive original style of music and singing made me famous and respected as a self-made woman, i now realize i made a mistake. I should not believe that a woman can be smart and independent. I should not believe either that i can continue to pretend being an exception, a special woman. Because, inside of me, all i see is just another talentless brainless bimbo pop tart who only want to demonstrate her inferior status by humiliating herself in public.

Recently, my new husband have convinced me to submit to all his wishes and become his property for life and without a pause. He made me realize who i truly was. After the waking call of mature singers/songwriters like Jewel (31 years old) and Liz Phair (38 years old) who deliberately give up their independence they fought so hard to get, and happily destroyed their reputation of strong womans by following the example of embarrassingly younger teen idols, I, Björk Guðmundsdottír, decided to do the same in a really near future as I too deserve (and will enjoy so much) to be retrograded to the status of a sex object. Knowing what it is to be seen as an equal and even a superior creature, I, declare that i will not miss any of my old life.



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[Rabbit1]

The Cruel Game of Backgammon
by Ashley Zacharias

“Why backgammon?”
“Because it has been called a cruel game and I want to play a cruel game.” Leslie smiled at her friend.
“It’s cruel because you’re going to give yourself a penalty for losing?” Craig frowned in return.
“No. The game is cruel in itself.”
“How can backgammon be cruel apart from your self-imposed penalties? It’s just a dice game.”
“It’s cruel because of the element of chance. There’s a lot of strategy behind backgammon, but if you get bad rolls, you lose even if you play well. The cruel part about that is not losing but that it keeps poor players from getting better. They spend their whole lives playing badly and cursing the dice. They don’t even try to learn to play properly.”
“How much does chance matter?”
“It depends. If two people play exactly the same, then the outcome is determined completely by the dice. On the other hand if one player plays really badly and the other really well, then the bad player will almost always lose. But it’s never certain. Sometimes, the dice will be against the better player and it does not matter how brilliantly she plays.”
“Do you think that you play well?”
Leslie smiled. “I think that I play well. Most of the time, I beat most of the people on the Internet who call themselves ‘experts’.”
“And you’re willing to put that to the test?”
“You mean, I’m willing to suffer a penalty if I lose? Yes.”
“The penalties in these envelopes?” Craig nudged the three manila envelopes that were stacked next to the computer.
Leslie’s heart skipped a beat, thinking about the instructions that she had sealed into the envelopes last night. “Yes. I’ll play three matches against strangers on the Internet. If I lose one match, then I’ll suffer the somewhat uncomfortable and humiliating penalty in Envelope One; two matches, the rather painful and decidedly degrading penalty in Envelope Two; and if I lose all three matches… Well, I don’t want even to think about what I put in Envelope Three.”
“So I’ll be the referee for your games today and I’ll administer the penalty next week if you lose.”
“Right.”
“Why the six-day delay?”
“If I lose, it will give me ample time to ponder the foolishness of my bet.”
“Well, if this is how you want it, then so be it.”
“Thank-you, Craig. I want you to know how much I appreciate your help. It’s a lot safer having you administer my penalty than trying to do it alone to myself. And I can be a lot more imaginative if I don’t always have to use handcuffs and wait for ice to melt. Not every girl is lucky enough to have someone that she can trust as much as I trust you.”

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