Passing the Baton
Prologue

Copyright© 2010 by Polecat

BDSM Sex Story: Prologue - Sarah has been a slave to Paul for many years. She now prepares to leave his service; in a most painful and terminal way.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   Torture   Snuff   Slow  

"Paul is going to snuff me on my birthday"

Sarah's comment caused her two friends to stare at her in astonished silence.

"That's impossible Sara" said Juggy "Paul loves you. He would never snuff you. He doesn't even like snuff, not very much anyway"

"Why would he ever want to snuff you?" asked Lila "You are her oldest slave, he loves you, and you run his household for him"

"I never said he wanted to snuff me" Sarah continued soberly "I know he loves me, but he will snuff me on my birthday. I will ask him to"

"He will refuse. He will not do it" The two friends retorted. And then her last phrase clicked in and Juggy asked:

"Why would you want to be snuffed?"

Sarah sat down on the balustrade of the patio. The setting September sun set her long, wavy red hair on fire. The two other slaves stood, looking at her with questioning eyes.

"I will be 35 next October. That is too old for a slave in our world. Paul should have sold or traded me a long time ago. I could serve as a slave for many years yet, but not in our world of opulent rich masters. I am still beautiful, I know, but my age shows. Paul is losing face with his friends and associates. They think him weak for keeping me. He will not last long if he is perceived as weak. By now, he can't trade or give me away. That would just show further weakness. He must kill me or have me killed. There is no other way."

"He will not" Juggy insisted. She knelt on the stone floor of the observatory, tossing her long black hair over her shoulders. Lila knelt besides her and both looked up at the older slave girl, sitting on the balustrade. Of the five slave girls in the house, only Sarah the most senior could sit in public.

"I can make him do it. Let me tell you the story; it is not long."

Despite the gravity of the topic, both slave girls prepared to enjoy the tale. Sarah was a great storyteller, and even an everyday event, when recounted by her, became a treat.

"I dated Paul when I was in high school and he was a promising young engineer. I started to sub for him when I was 17. By the time I was 18 I knew I wanted him as my master forever, and on my birthday, as my gift, I asked him to take me in, as his slave. He accepted, thinking that I would soon get tired of this game. I didn't. I helped him on his business too. He would have me serve clients that he was wooing; sometimes he would loan me to them. I felt happy that he used me so."

The two girls looked at Sarah, rapt in their attention, already lost in the story. Sarah continued:

"Two years later, we were in Brunei. Paul was trying to get a major building contract from the government there. I traveled as his secretary, but fully expected to be used to cement the deal. We met with many dignitaries, and finally I ended up serving the minister to the sultan, Sheik Hamal Al-Mansur"

"Al-Mansur" Juggy gasped, recognizing the name

"Yes, Al-Mansur. He was the man who would have to sign the contract." Sarah continued. "Paul and I went to dinner at his palace, and I served them both there, that night. The following morning, at our hotel, I was kneeling between Paul's legs, giving him a blow job, when the phone rang." Sarah paused for a moment, then went on.

"Paul put the phone on speaker, and I could hear everything. In short, Al-Mansur would hire Paul's company to build all future government structures for the next 20 years, if he gave me to him to use for the next 2 weeks."

"I felt a ball of ice form in my gut. I was dead. I knew it. Al-Mansur was notorious even back then; he had killed any number of slave girls already; those that survived him were often damaged beyond repair.

I concentrated on giving Paul the best blow job ever. I knew it would be the last one I would ever give him. He told Al-Mansur that he would call him back and relaxed on the bed, enjoying my ministrations. I soon had a mouthful of his essence, and savored it as it would be the last time I could taste him."

"After his orgasm Paul lied back on the bed, looking at the sun streaming through the open window, and said nothing. I was much more forward then, so I asked him not if, but when would he send me to Al-Mansur. To my surprise he answered that he could not send me to Al-Mansur because he would probably kill me and he could not tell me to do that. The ball of ice melted instantly as I basked in his love. However, I knew my place and what had to be done. I convinced Paul to send me to him, but to ask for 2 weeks delay before delivery. Al-Mansur agreed gladly, understanding that Paul did not expect me to survive and thinking that he wanted a last fling with his slave girl."

The two young girls knelt, mesmerized by the story.

Sarah continued: "I had a different reason for the delay. One of Paul's secretaries, Ally, a lovely, voluptuous 22 year old brunette, was totally besotted with him, but was too shy, and felt herself too unimportant to do anything about it. Within a week I had her submitting to Paul so that, when I was delivered to Al-Mansur, he would have someone to entertain and serve him. She became his second slave.

At the appointed time, Al-Mansur's Citation X business jet arrived at Westchester County's airport in New York, and Paul took me to the warehouse the Sheik rented there. He left me there, and would come to pick me up, if I returned alive, in two weeks and two days, to allow for travel time. As soon as he left, the Sheik's representative ordered me to strip, and I was forced to crouch in a wooden crate. The crate was closed, and in this uncomfortable fashion I spent the long trip."

 
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