I have made a study out of female slavery. As I go from farm to farm, up and down the east coast, one common thread is true. No female starts out thinking that they will wind-up chained in a solitary cell away from all human kind. No female ever imagines herself attached to a pony cart, whipped to run for hours like an animal. No female ever imagines that she will someday be trained like a gladiator who fights to the death for her mistress’s pleasure.

So how do these things happen? I have studied the lives of over one hundred female slaves in the past two years. Here is the case history of one of them.

When the tigers identified her as a gorgeous young thing alone in the big city, it was easy for them to set the trap. Expensive dinners, gifts, and weekend retreats lulled her into letting her guard down. When she was invited to famous S & M clubs in the she had no idea that the stage had been rigged with "pretend slave girls", who looked like they loved being their mistress’s toy. When asked to play D/s games, it was fun to have someone telling her what to do, freed from decision making. And when your older, strong beautiful mistress told you she loved you and wanted you to move in, you thought you were home again.

At first things were wonderful. You were in love and you were loved. You were no longer worried where your next rent check was coming from. You dined in the finest restaurants. If your lover liked playing the Domme, it was ok with you. You loved eating her and being her fuck toy. When company came over and she asked if you would wear a collar and maid’s outfit, you did it. It was a game that you could stop playing whenever you wanted. The tattoo you wore on your breast was a symbol of love. The chastity belt, which locked your sex away, was a sign of love, security, and commitment. You wore it like a badge of honor.

You had no idea that your girlfriend really didn’t love you at all. When she invited you to Virginia for the weekend to meet her friends and family you were thrilled. And when she told you she was a very private person who didn’t want anyone to know about "US", you thought it was normal because you grew up with secrets all your life.

When you got to Virginia, the large estate looked inviting, a lesbian hideaway. You didn’t notice the gates being locked after you arrived. When you came to the large colonial house centered on the property, you didn’t notice the attached barn with bars on the doors and windows.

You entered the house. A gorgeous, young, naked girl answered the door. Over her bare feet were steel anklets that hobbled her walk. Her toes were polished and as you reached out to greet her, you saw she was locked in a tight chastity belt. Her arms and hands could only move eight inches off the belt. You looked at her firm white breasts with large pink nipples. You saw the "V" branded on each one. Before you could really focus on them, the lady of the house approached you from down the hall. As she came closer, the young girl who first greeted you fell to her knees, head to the floor. You could sense that she was nervous in this woman’s presence. The woman greeted your lover and looked at you. You could see she was strong. The young girl was still on the floor. The woman snapped her fingers. The young girl rose from the floor. There were no introductions.

"Emily, this is my closest friend, Joan Landsman. I have been telling her about you for weeks. Would you be a sweetheart and show yourself to her? I want her to love you as much as I do." Emily was too shocked to say no. She undressed. "You may touch her if you wish." Joan walks over to her and begins to caress her breasts. She touches her nipples before putting her fingers inside her. Emily is soaking wet. Joan takes off her top and tells Emily to lick her. Emily obeys.

That night her lover tells her how proud she is of her, how much she loves her. She tells her how much pleasure it would bring her to give her to her best friend over night. She goes with her into Joan’s room. The young girl from before is chained on the floor by the bed. She is hooded. Emily gets in the bed. Joan engulfs her.

The next morning your lover comes for you. She is so proud. Joan’s report is glowing. You breakfast together and your lover asks you to stay with Joan for a while. She has to travel to the west coast and besides; Joan is a very experienced mistress who will enjoy teaching her. You remember last night’s love making. You see how happy your lover is. You agree to stay for a while.

Tuesday arrives and your lover kisses you goodbye. You are nervous, but Joan assures you that the time will go by quickly and you will love the stay. You watch the car leave. Soon, Joan becomes Mistress Joan. Your lessons take on a new dimension. It is no longer Joan training you, but a stranger with a whip. You hardly see Joan. You no longer sleep with her. You are in anklets and a tight belt like the girl you saw when you got there. There are no questions allowed. If you ask them you get whipped. You only hope your lover will come for you soon.

Joan is seated in the den when you are brought in to see her. You are naked and chained. You try to call out her name but your trainer whips you across the ass. You stop talking. As you approach, the trainer brings you to your knees, head down on the floor.

Joan speaks. "Emily, I have just finished speaking to your lover. She isn’t coming back for you. We have decided it is best for you to remain here with me. Your training is going well and soon you will have the honor of serving me as my slave."

The conversation only lasted a minute. Emily didn’t say a word. Her trainer took her outside for the fist time in weeks, but the trip was a very short one. The barn door clicked open. It wasn’t a barn at all. Inside were cells. Inside the cells were naked girls like Emily. "Open cell seven," the trainer called out. The cell door was opened. Inside the cell were a cot, sink and toilet. Emily moved inside the cell. There was a chain bolted to the floor near the cot. The trainer attached it to Emily’s ankle before closing the cell door.

Weeks went by before Joan visited Emily again. She didn’t speak a word as two of her fingers reached deep inside her. Joan lifted her beautiful breasts, one in each hand. She played with her nipples. How strange it was for this woman to put her finger inside her nose and mouth, to finger her bottom hole, to examine her teeth and tongue.

When Joan finally finished, she began to speak. "Tomorrow you will be branded on each breast with the letter "J". Your nipples will be pierced and ringed, as will be your vagina. After some time to heal, you will be brought back to the main house, to my bedroom. From then on you will be my personal bed slave.

Emily was taken from cell early the next morning. I introduced myself. "I am Mistress Kathy. I will be branding you today." I explained the procedure as best I could. The pain from the white-hot iron is unbearable. There is no way to prepare for it. Emily couldn’t control her screams. Her bladder let go as I counted from one to five on the first breast. She was delirious, begging me to stop. After the second breast was done, I pierced her labia in two places and inserted heavy gold rings that held a silver disk on them. I then firmly fingered her nipple and drove the needle in. when the procedures were completed; Emily had two nipple rings, two clit rings, and two brands, all with the letter "J" for Joan.

I stood Emily in front of the mirror to show her what she looked like. While I adjusted the nipple rings, Joan came in with a metal collar. The collar had three "O" rings attached as well as a silver disk similar to the ones on the nipple ring. The silver disk on the collar, however, was much larger than the others. Joan held it up for Emily to read. Joan read the words; "Slave girl Emily, property of J.L."

Joan was a very demanding mistress, but soon life fell into a routine. Whatever her mistress told her to do, Emily did it at once. During the day, she followed Joan around like a puppy. At night, she would wait in her room until she got into bed and commanded her. When she was good, her mistress rewarded her. When she was bad, she was whipped. No task was beneath her. She was her owner’s toilet slave. She spent hours, polishing her toes, washing her feet, and shaving her pussy.

The weeks turn into months. It is summer again. The doorbell rings. You are in anklets and your belt when you answer the door. It is your old lover. You want to go to her, to speak to her, but it is forbidden. She is with someone, a gorgeous young blond who looks at you in disbelief. You hear your mistress approaching and go into kneeling position. As she comes closer you move over to her and kiss her toes. Your old lover doesn’t acknowledge your presence.

It isn’t till the third night of your old lover’s visit that the instructions come. Mistress Joan will be sleeping with her weekend guest. You are to report to bedroom number two. When you arrive, your old lover is waiting. You kneel at her feet, kissing her toes. "I am to be your slave this evening. How may I please you?"