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Slaveworld Rivals (Stephen Douglas)

Slaveworld Rivals by Stephen Douglas

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Britain didn't really have anything the technologically superior Slaveworld wanted, except superb sex-slaves. But the genie was out of the bottle now. To keep them happy, the ambassador had devised a scheme to recruit more British sex-slaves, without having to resort to snatching them, which officially he was obliged to disapprove of. He was busy arranging jobs and student exchange places for young submissives; all tested with the infallible Slaveworld psychological profile.

Without diplomatic immunity, any girl who got into trouble with the law would find herself on the auction block.

With all the ingenuity and detail that has become Stephen Douglas's trademark, Slaveworld Rivals brings to a climax the now-classic Slaveworld series! The fates of all the slavegirls from this reality are decided in a desperate race against time as the Prince's hold on his throne begins to slip. And in a dazzling finale some of those who have come to enjoy the Slaveworld's seductive decadence incur that world's rulers' displeasure and pay a price that is unique in its erotic charge!

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 8 / 2018

No. words: 77800

Style: Erotic Domination - M/F, Male Dom - M/F, SciFi BDSM/Bondage

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle

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When Prince Samuel was stranded on Earth by his enemies, he was not entirely helpless. His assets included a female slave, two loyal men and examples of advanced technology. It took him only a year to become a rich man, cautiously patenting and selling advanced technology under the assumed identity of an American citizen, a Mr Crown. Prudently not wishing to advertise his presence or the fact that travel between worlds in parallel universes was possible, and having been raised in a slave owning society, once he had established himself, the solution to the problem of returning to his home universe seemed obvious.
He needed scientists, but more, he needed secrecy. Young female science graduates - screened by psychological profile for the sexually submissive, to ensure both an easily controlled workforce, and to provide him with all the comforts of home - would be kidnapped and put to work building an inter-dimensional Gate in the secret lab he'd built in Britain. Suitable candidates could be screened under the guise of a job interview.
On his travels the prince had developed a taste for lingerie, Kentucky bourbon and poker. Kathy Jane, wearing just heels, a cream satin teddy and the matching stockings her captor had chosen for her, slipped into her place at the poker table. She was also wearing a collar, manacles and her wrists were in handcuffs at her sides, attached to a locked belt with short lengths of chain, which to her surprise she sometimes forgot. The prince allowed his captives to roam the estate's house and walled garden freely provided they put themselves in restraints, and sitting in a cell all day was deathly boring. Once a girl had put herself in restraints once, it was surprisingly easy for her to get used to the straps and chains.
She had quickly realised that the prince did not just want poker partners. A stranger in a hostile foreign land, his men loyal but contented underlings, he was lonely; his beautiful young captive scientists providing him with intelligent, animated, unguarded conversation for the first time in a long stressful exile. As his prisoners, but not yet his sex-slaves, they were still people to him. He'd candidly told Kathy Jane that originally he'd planned to start breaking in the six of them at once, two British girls and four Americans, in two day intervals.
Now he lovingly hoarded the four 'free' women that remained from his original collection of six, teasing himself, putting off for just one more day, then another, the moment when another one of them would be chained to his bed. And also, she suspected, probably very much enjoying the obvious anxiety that his remaining unbroken captives experienced, with the threat of real sexual slavery hanging over them daily. Breathless, excited, fearful anticipation, and an unspoken, never acknowledged, shameful hunger for domination
Maria, a deliciously plump Spanish/American girl had been broken in first, practically throwing herself at the prince on the first day, while the other five of them were still in denial. Kathy Jane had even been allowed to watch the dark eyed girl's first humiliating, sadistic, sexual torture. Sydney, a slender delicate blonde had stolen the march on the rest of them by simply and boldly asking if she could be next. Prince Samuel had kept her waiting on tenterhooks, teasing her, pretending indecision for a fortnight before he finally acquiesced. Her cries of agony and ecstasy had echoed around the prince's bedchamber for the past three nights; and now she was no longer a novelty his goons were free to enjoy her too.
Kathy Jane looked up as Sam and Gemma appeared in the doorway. Samantha was a curvy fun-loving English blonde, Gemma a more rangy, athletic girl, one of Kathy Jane's fellow Americans. Both girls wore heels and stockings, Sam a suspender belt, Gemma a waspie corset with suspender straps, and both were otherwise naked. Shabnam was already kneeling beside the table beside Kathy Jane. All three were only allowed out of their cells with their wrists handcuffed behind their backs now, and were fitted with balls and chains, punishment for escape attempts. Sam was dragging her ball and chain along behind her, hands tight around the chain, the heavy metal ball rolling from side to side and leaving a visible trail on the carpet. Gemma was carrying hers, again with wrists cuffed behind her. She tottered a few manacled steps forward then paused, letting the heavy metal ball hit the floor with a thud. Panting, she paused a few seconds, then lifted again, managing to reach the table.
Like Shabnam the two girls then sank to their knees, sitting on their heels with the metal ball nestled between spread thighs. Kathy Jane wasn't surprised. The ends of all three chains were padlocked to rings set through each girl’s clitoris, and even just standing, the weight of the chain hanging off the sensitive nub could torment a girl to distraction.
Gemma had kept her escape attempt simple. She'd thrown a thick quilt out of a top window into the enclosed garden - only the ground floor windows were locked closed - and tied on the manacles they were allowed to roam the house in with string, not clicked the cuffs locked around her ankles. Outside, throwing the quilt on top of the wall which was set with broken glass, she'd vaulted over and taken off like a hare. An alarm had immediately gone off, and she'd been brought back tied spreadeagled over the bonnet of a Land Rover.
Sam had been more subtle. She'd rubbed herself up against the Prince like a cat, the only one of them to voluntarily wear the shiny latex catsuit with its built-in dildo that the prince had provided along with satin and lace lingerie, hanging onto his every word. She'd wanted to know all about him and his home, the Slaveworld, even when his birthday was, apparently fascinated. The pretty blonde had had the prince's safe open and was trying to get a signal on his locked away mobile phone when one of his men had caught her. The safe's combination had been his date of birth backwards.
Shabnam had kept it really simple. The beautiful British Asian girl had set a fire in the attic, but unfortunately she'd given herself away, checking to see that everyone was safely downstairs. Like Sam, her effort had been discovered too quickly, before the fire could take hold. Serge had no difficulty controlling the flames with a fire extinguisher. No fire crews breaking down the door!
Kathy Jane was aware it was her turn to attempt escape, very aware of the expectant looks in the eyes of her fellow captives who had already tried. She kept telling herself she would. Soon!
Enjoying submission was one thing, but she was going to be a real slave, a sex-toy to be bought and sold, if the Prince ever got her to his world! Besides, and without wishing to sound melodramatic, he was an alien, his people up to who knew what on this world. She had a clear duty to all mankind to expose him to the authorities if she could. As yet, she just honestly couldn't see a way.
Prince Samuel arrived with jolly a “Hello," for everyone. He was flanked by two top-heavy French-maid slaves, one the semi-literate peasant girl he'd brought with him from the Slaveworld, the other an English bio-chemist he'd obedience trained before the arrival of his six picked Gate scientists, both of them now interchangeable sex-slaves. One girl released her fellow captive scientists from their balls and chains and handcuffed their wrists in front of them, the other settling herself into the dealer’s chair.
"Real stakes today; no more practice. I've prepared currency," the prince told them jovially.
He dropped a sheaf of papers onto the table, separating and signing the top one before passing it to the dealer slave. On it was written FREEDOM - $5000. The blonde passed over 5000 in chips.
High stakes. Kathy Jane took a deep breath and then snagged the pen and papers, sorting through the I.O.Us. Pierced nipples and wearing a butt-plug permanently were worth $2000 each. A permanently worn dildo was worth $3000, oral sex on demand $1,500, $2000 if she swallowed, and a single whipping, $500. After thinking a moment, her pen hovering over the I.O.U. she signed for bigger breasts at $4000 - surely a big enough stake - and the other three girls made their choices. They cut cards for the Button and the dealer slave dealt out the first hand.
Her heart fluttering in her chest, Kathy Jane reached for her cards, wondering not for the first time what Prince Samuel's Slaveworld was really like. He'd described his home in detail to Sam, but if he'd been suspicious of her from the start, could they trust what he'd told her. She found it hard to imagine a world where commonplace sexual slavery existed quite openly. Surely the prince's lurid depictions were exaggerated.
She brushed the thought away, knowing she needed to concentrate fully on the game. In the very real sense of the world, she had a lot at stake. Despite her best intentions, a little corner in the back of her mind just couldn't stop wondering how the Slaveworld would really treat a girl from her version of Earth.


The family steam-limousine, hand built over 170 years ago and still both magnificent and reliable, chrome and dark blue paint polished bright, sighed to a stop beside the curb. Robbie almost climbed over his sister in his eagerness to get out. She paused, a hand on the door-latch, deliberately holding him back.
"Calm down. You're going to wet yourself in a minute," she teased.
"I'm perfectly composed, thank you," he replied with frayed dignity, forcing himself to wait with gritted teeth until the chauffeur opened the door.
He loved his little sister dearly, sometimes, but she could be a brat when she wanted to. He knew full well that rising to the bait would only ensure escalation, and further delay. He knew the real cause of her frustration was that she was still seventeen, eleven months his junior, while he was legally an adult now, eighteen today!
"Do try to behave like an adult," he couldn't resist advising her as he stepped out of the car, their parents following. "Children are not allowed in pet shops."
Mother serenely ignored their familiar sibling bickering, but Father frowned. "Yes, do remember, this is Robert's day, Jessica," he cautioned.
Seeing that frown, and with it the possibility she might be excluded, Jessica bit down whatever retort had been on her lips and nodded brightly. "Sure. Okay!"
She wanted to see his birthday present without delay too. Ever since she'd got to pet and stroke a latex-coated poodle when she was younger, Prince Samuel and his then Lady visiting her college on a state visit, she'd had this thing for curvy, top-heavy, slave-girls.
The pet shop was small, exclusive, not even a display-slave in the window. Inside, the price of merchandise kept going up, with not one slave on display, just a pair of comfortable chairs facing a desk. The proprietor was waiting, bowing deeply and murmuring respectful pleasantries as he ushered them through a door into a brightly lit viewing room.
The slave-girl in the centre of the room was naked, a tight latex hood clinging to her face, the hood secured in place with a padlocked collar. There were nostril holes and an opening at the back through which was pulled a thick blonde pony-tail. A hanging chain clipped to a ring on the top of her hood kept the girl upright.
The naked slave had a broad polished black leather belt tight around her waist, nipping it down to a cruel but spectacular eighteen inches. A pair of handcuffs secured to the back of the padlocked belt locked the hooded girl’s hands behind her back, a second pair around her ankles keeping her feet together. She stood in four inch stiletto heeled sandals with a padlocked ankle-strap. A one-size-fits-all key for his birthday present's various restraints hung swinging between firm thighs on a short length of chain, clipped to the blonde's ring-pierced clitoris.
Robbie hugged himself in delight. He'd never dared imagine he might actually own one of the superb, expensive and very rare British slaves one day.
He only realised he'd unconsciously clenched his hands into fists when his fingernails dug into his palms. His birthday present had enormous breasts, gently rising and falling with each breath, tipped with beautiful pale pink nipples set with steel rings. The ring-decorated melons were delightfully firm - as firm as such big heavy mounds could be; a lovely deep teardrop shape - touching lightly together.
That morning, along with his presents, he'd been presented with his Bill of Sale, a birthday copy printed on parchment. Then his birthday present's pedigree had been transferred to his personal computer. Eagerly poring over her history and vital statistics, he discovered the Crown Court had sentenced her to twenty-five years’ service and she had several surgical implants. A locator tag, about the size of a pea was implanted in the right breast so that her position could be satellite tracked anywhere in the world. Coin shaped sensors attached to the skull at the temples monitored brain-waves, and at request, his personal computer would list any and every orgasm. She'd also been implanted with two drugs, both slowly dissolving into her bloodstream; an aphrodisiac/contraceptive mix and a drug to physically addict her to semen.
"I must thank you again for putting her to one side for us, Mr Khan," his Father said.
"Not at all necessary, My Lord. My family has a long and proud tradition of loyalty to your House. I'm honoured to have been able to offer you first refusal on such a lovely animal."
Khan and his father before him had both served in the family's household regiment, Robbie remembered, the slave-dealer's son and brother presently on the rolls.
"But where did you manage to find a British girl, Mr Khan," his Mother asked. "My husband and I looked everywhere."
The proprietor explained he'd discovered the blonde at a minor State auction and snapped her up, no one else realising the hissing, spitting, fireball was a British girl. The information had not been on her pedigree or the auction-house program at the time, the breed not then officially recognised by the Kennel Club. He'd had her body-sculpted first - waist trimmed, breasts substantially enlarged, some minor skin blemishes removed and a little facial work done, after first transforming her into a genuine blonde - and had then efficiently broken her spirit by hiring the now totally sex-starved plaything out as one half of a taxi-pony team. Any noble could hop into the seat of the two-girl pony trap, a credit card inserted into the correct slot releasing the brakes on the taxi-trap's wheels.
"Would the young Sir care to inspect the merchandise?" the proprietor concluded.
Would he! Like any other teenager he'd surreptitiously groped slaves secured on public hitching rails, he and his friends had once tried to buy a slave-girl at a gypsy auction with a fake ID and until caught, he had sneaked into his father's stable block many a wonderful night; reaching through the bars of their cages to molest helplessly bound, big-titted, show ponies. But he'd never had a girl of his own before, legally his property, to use, abuse and enjoy as he wished. The wait to get his hands on a bound woman had been interminable, especially the last few months.
Making the moment last, and trying to work up his courage, he reached down for the key swinging between the hooded blonde's thighs, and gave her a little tug with the ring set through her clitoris. His birthday present let out a loud, gag-distorted, gasp, her hips jerking. Robbie gave the pet-shop proprietor a questioning look.
"Gagged of course," he explained. "She can't see or hear you either. Padding over the ears."
Emboldened, Robbie reached out and grasped a velvet buttock, soft warm silky flesh under his hand; stroking down a firm thigh. The hooded sex-object flinched at his first touch - just surprise - because she made no move to pull away after. He stroked her belly, squeezed into a taut swell by the tight belt, fingers trailing through golden pubic curls trimmed and waxed into a neat vertical tuft. His birthday present gave a little gag-muffled whimper when his inexpert fingers stroked down between plump sex-lips, and up inside her. Penetrating!


This was an awesome series! Sad that it had to come to an end but this was a good read! 5 out of 5

Great conclusion, including researchers turned into slaves, a free woman becoming a slave to marry her slave lover, the courts giving all the British slaves the choice for freedom but only after they've been broken, and many wonderfully ridiculous forms of bondage. 5 out of 5 (NF)

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The world-famous author of the iconic Slaveworld series.


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