Chapter 1

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, NonConsensual, Rape, Slavery, Lesbian, Heterosexual, Fiction, Historical, Incest, Brother, Sister, BDSM, DomSub, MaleDom, Rough, Torture, White Male, White Female, Slow, .

Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The revolution has been successful. With its ending comes boredom. Perhaps a new hobby is in order.

Virginia has always been a beautiful land, even more so now that the war is over. It had been a bad time that, even for the rich, what with British Regiments demanding supplies, then Revolutionary forces doing the same. Yet somehow I had muddled through, mainly by pulling in my belt, and those of my servants. Accepting that living as I had was no longer possible and not bothering to argue the point. A farmer is subject to the whims of all things where as I, a farmer/merchant, am on somewhat more secure ground. Now the year was changing, within hours it would be a new century. The 1700's left behind us, with all their stiff, the 1800's laying open anew before us. My ships were making profit, though I remained well out of the slave trade. Not for any moral reason you must understand, I simply preferred my ships to carry varied cargo. A slave ship could lose all in a mutiny or illness. Yet to be honest, I simply never felt comfortable in the slave business.

That was why all my slaves were white. Not that they thought of themselves as slaves, at least not more than my most personal choice. She knew exactly what she was, and wore her golden collar with pride. No, all the others were indentured servants. Each working diligently to pay off her debt, each looking forward to that day when I would, by law and contract, release them to their own destiny. Not one understood how much a mind could be changed in five years. I had found that, having studied diligently and practiced carefully, that I was very good at molding innocent young minds to my own needs. You see, I had practiced upon my own oldest sister as a young child. For it was my own sister who wore my golden collar now. As for my indentured servants, not one had failed to sign further contracts to my service upon completing their indenture. For by then, they could not think to live without me, or be without my most caring attentions.

Six others wore my collar, a few still thinking it only the mark of a woman in my most trusted service. Other than my sister and three others, not one understood the true nature of her collar. A collar that would have to be cut to remove it. Not one knew the words engraved within my sisters collars inner side. Her pledge to serve me unto death. To obey without question my simplest request as though it were an order. Her acceptance of being my most personal slave. To be buried naked and in chains beside me upon my death. Alive should it be required. Each of my other six collared slaves were slowly reaching the same conclusion within their own minds. That to live without me was not living, but hell upon this Earth. Thus my mausoleum was rather large, with a hidden entrance that they could enter, then seal forever with great iron bars.

Many would call it white slavery of course. But truly. What is the difference between white and black skin? Nothing. Not the difference between one tree and another of the same species. All are equal, equal to be free, or a slave as they desire. I was a free man, not the richest man in Richmond I will admit. Still rich enough to be invited to parties quite often. And when I attended such parties, it was always with my favorite upon my arm. My dear sister Katherine. I wonder often, what would those oh so proper members of high society think had they even suspected that she was my sister, for she wore my ring as well as my collar. Often I was congratulated upon capturing the heart of such a handsome woman.

Had they only known the lengths I had gone too. Starting only a month after our mother died, when father would leave us alone with the house slave Bertha. The long days in his library, where I slowly seduced my elder sibling. Broke down her resistance, filled her mind with things no thirteen year old should know. Things I had found in my fathers hidden books and drawings. Things she should never suspect, at least, not until she was wed. For father had made certain I was well aware of the ways of nature, introducing me to a slave girl when I was ten. Opened his most private library to me. Having her teach me everything within those strange books, then selling her when mother died. "Your sister is old enough to tend your needs Robert. See to it that she does" he had explained.

He had said that in front of her. An impressionable eleven and a half year old girl. Thus I instructed her when we were alone. At first she had not believed, then I showed her the letters Chili had written me. Very expressive letters. I showed her fathers private books and prints. His own notes of Chili's natural abilities, and shortcomings. For Chili had pleased father on more time than one occasion. Thus it was my sister became my lover, and in time my slave. For I had never truly loved my sister, and had always wanted my own slave. It was difficult work, but by the time I was seventeen and father was lost at sea to a British man of war, Katherine was already freely kneeling at my feet. So well had we hidden the change in our positions that, to the day he left I am certain that my father never suspected. Within days of burying his remains we moved from fathers farm to Richmond. Though I kept the farm I sold all the slaves, hiring Irishmen to care for it. Thus Bertha, with her knowing looks and acid tongue vanished forever from our lives. Sold to owners in the far away Louisiana Territories.

I of course introduced Katherine as my wife, for though we were siblings, we bore only passing resemblance to each other. We moved into fathers, now our home, where I immediately had the house slaves sent to the block. I think it was because of Bertha that I do not feel right around black slaves. Her and her continual scolding about how good boys and girls did not do such things. Certainly not when they were so closely related. Thus I began buying up indentures. It was almost like buying slaves, with the exception that they were to be paid a stipend and released upon the completion of their service time. Obviously I knew nothing of the market, and learning was a long curve but by my twenty first birthday I had a household of rather pretty girls from several countries.

Now though I was somewhat bored. With the war over, and no longer having to hide my support for the revolution I wanted a new challenge. Something to wake my mind, refresh my spirit. Something to wake me from the drudgery of days of work followed by nights of socializing. Something to strike back at those snotty ill-bred English. My melancholy was simply crushing my spirit. At least, to myself who had ever experienced such before it seemed thus. I would learn years later that it was simply exhaustion that had made me thus.

"A hobby then" Parker Wilson suggested at one of the more boring parties. "Say the sciences. Why, I understand that all strange things are being discovered about this new finagled electricity. Or perhaps writing. Fancy your hand at putting quill to paper, for the amusement of the masses?"

"A ... Hobby" I answered, looking at the man as though he had just appeared before my sight. Wasn't my breaking of women a hobby I wondered. Then it struck me, my little pastime was no longer truly a challenge. I had the actions down to a rote now. Why anyone who had access to my notes and willing to spend two or three years in the doing could reproduce my results, with no training. Women had strong minds, stronger than most of the men around me ever suspected. Their minds still, were also somewhat more malleable in certain ways, making breaking them extremely difficult. But they had a weakness, as I am certain men have as well. Somehow in my experiments with my sister I had stumbled upon that weakness. That then was my problem. Taking a woman from full independent to full slave was a matter of steps. Steps I could do with my eyes closed. Minor adjustments for the personality, and education of each was of course required. The more educated a woman, the easier it seemed to be to send her over that edge.

But these steps took years. What if I tried to do the same thing not in years, but three short months? Could it be done? I wasn't certain. If it could, the market I could open would be immense. For there were always men with wives who would not obey, or women desired who turned their heads away. Even enemies wives and daughter, to take in revenge. I would become rich, if I could both do this, and keep my name from my customers. It was a madly enticing option. Why Parker himself was enthraled by Elizabeth Morton, daughter of a Georgian cotton grower. But she felt him completely undesirable. If this would work, a gift to Parker by persons unknown. The man knew simply everyone, and their desires.

"Thank you Parker. I believe that your idea is a splendid one" I remarked, my words causing him to smile. "It is such a perfect solution to my problem that I must act upon it immediately. And we truly must speak again. Thank you. Thank yo. Now if you will accept my apology, I will return home forth-with, to determine what hobby might most interest me. Now where did my dear Katherine wander off too?"

Finding Katherine was always easy, as she was the only woman wearing a golden collar. I was actually seizing up the women about me as I moved through them. Who was attractive, strong willed yet would not be missed for some time. It was only in the coach, on our way home when I mentioned it to my favorite slave.

Katherine stopped her worshiping of my manhood, withdrawing her sweet lips from my flesh only long enough to suggest a name. "Lady Brandywine is returning to England in three days Master" she mentioned. "Aboard one of your ships." She then returned to her duty, that of releasing me of the days tension. Of this she was most skilled, having had many years practice. I brought an image into my mind of the Lady Brandywine, ignoring my slaves attentions so deeply had I fallen within my own thoughts that we would be almost home before she completed her task.

Lady Brandywine I recalled. We had been introduced last Winter, at the Midsummer Eve's ball. Lady Brandywine had struck me as the typical British highblood. Filled with herself, with little or no interest in the Americas. She had come at her fathers request, he being ill with the Gout at the time. A business woman of some talent, though her true talent was her body. Small, no more than five feet of heights, with long red hair from her mothers side of the family. She was also well gifted by dear Mother Nature, having a more than ample bosom. As our interests were greatly different, I being a merchant and her father a slaver, we had simply nodded to each other after the initial introductions and moved on. Now though, thinking of her, she was to my mind the most perfect choice. A slavers daughter, broken to the collar herself. A perfect choice. Made to place her collar upon her own ivory neck herself. Locking her forever into the servitude of her owner. So much did the image of her naked body speared before me affect my body that I released into my sweet slaves mouth an eruption the likes she had not seen in quite some time.

"Lady Branywine it shall be my pet" I whispered as she cleaned me. "We shall retire to the farm for our little project. Just you, I and the Lady. Once we have her that is. You will assist in her fall?"

My sister looked up at me with worshiping eyes. "I will be honored my Master, to bring to you yet another slave for your pleasure. How shall I do this?"

"As we have all who wear the collar, only quite quickly. I have set but three months for this experiment. If we she does not willingly take the collar by then, I shall discard her. The forest has always need for fertilizer after all." An image of that great sinkhole came to me, and the number of failed projects that had been discarded there. Their screams as they fell to the great stones so far below, to be washed away by the next storm. Or their bodies picked apart by the creatures that inhabited my forest.

"Master?" my slave asked. We were preparing to disembark. To return to our home where she would immediately remove all her clothing. For within my home, unless we had visitors, my favorite wore nothing.

I stopped my movement, my hand on the coaches door. "Yes?"

"If she breaks. May I have her?"

I thought about that. A slave with a slave. It was true of course that as my wife, Katherine was expected to have her own slave. She did have a very pretty Irish girl attending her, one who had taken to the collar slowly, but with great convention once she did. "She would have to remain at the farm" I warned her, for Lady Brandywine was too well known to ever show in public.

"Thank you Master."

I opened the door, exiting, then assisting 'my wife' to exit. Her eyes were flittering in the lamp light, and her excitement evident as we entered our home. That night she performed as she had rarely done, leaving me quite exhausted. I could hardly enjoy the tongue bath Caoimhe gave me after our rutting was over.

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