"Sold" Ch. 4 ( f/m, femdom, slavery, humiliation) "SOLD" CHAPTER 4 Janice sat down in the comfortable sofa at the mansion´s lounge, and glanced through the pages of the catalogue. Most of the men on the photographs looked alright to her, but they all lacked a certain... expression. Then she stopped at page 22. The young man on the picture had his wrists tied behind his back. Strong-looking body, but not too muscular, and a nice, stiff cock that he propably knew how to use. But that wasn´t the most interesting part. He had that expression in his eyes. Enslaved and tied up by women out in the middle of nowhere, and he still expressed some kind of male pride. Only slightly, but she spotted it right away. This was the slave she´d been looking for. Janice returned his stare and whispered: "You have no idea what you´re up against." The man on the picture looked like he was in his late twenties, or possibly early thirties. She guessed that he was a northern european. Swedish, perhaps. She smiled, recalling so many things she´d heard about that country. And that swedish porno movie from the seventies, where that woman stuffed an enormous sausage, thicker than a soda can, into her cunt and started fucking it. More than once, she had heard that country being described as the haven of sin and free sex, with infidelity being the rule rather than the exception. She decided that he was swedish, after all. And she would make him pay dearly for his ancestors sins and his own pride. She read the short description: "6 foot 2 tall. 8 inches long." And that was it. She smiled again. Janice got up and walked over to one of the staff, to make her order. It was getting dark outside. From a distance she heard a male scream of pain, followed by female laughter. She felt like a baby girl in a candy store. No... She felt like a million bucks. The slave was brought to room 17. A woman that appeared to be in her mid-forties was standing in the middle of the room. The moment he saw her eyes he knew he was up for a rough treat. "Get down on your knees! You are not to stand on your feet in my presence. Is that clear to you?" Her pretty lips were bent in a crooked smile. "Yes, Madam." He knelt. "And you are not to call me Madam either. It is Your Highness to you, slave!" Janice ran her fingers through the curly, red hair. "Yes, Your Highness." The slave admired her black leather outfit and her fully grown body. She wore shining boots with spurs (He frowned when he saw them), soft gloves, reaching all the way up to her armpits and finally a little bit more than daring bikini, hiding about two thirds of her mature, sexy breasts, and most of her pubic hair. The soft, black leather looked good on her body, the slave thought to himself. The cute laughing wrinkles in her face, and her nice features made him think that in another time and place, she was surely the most kind and charming wife and mother. But here and now, he knew not to expect any mercy. This was not the place for love and devotion. She was a female predator, if he had ever seen one. Janice felt the anger pumping through her body. The creep was enjoying himself. She could see him staring between her legs, at the curly pubic hair sticking out of her leather panties. She turned around and walked to a cupboard placed between the windows. He watched her bouncing ass in awe, sensing approaching danger. When she returned she held a hunting knife in her right hand. Her slave hissed as she placed its razor-sharp edge against his throat. He felt as if a cold hand gripped his bowels and squeezed them into a ball. Resisting was out of the question. That would mean a certain death sentence. He was well aware of the fact that every move in each and every room was being registered by candid cameras. The armed guards would be here in no-time, striking him down and dragging him away, or killing him right here, on the spot. And he knew that she knew. Janice put some pressure on the knife and saw the first drop of blood, a dark red, almost black drop, glimmering on the edge of the lethal steel blade. Then came that familiar, warm, bubbling sensation in her stomach again, as she laid the hand of death on her helpless victim. She recalled a hunting trip with her husband about three years ago. She had shot and wounded a year-old deer-calf in the woods of Denver, Colorado one early morning. Closing in on the stricken prey with a knife in her hand, she could feel her nipples erecting and her sex moistening from the excitement. The terrified animal was staring at her in despair. It let out a shriek and tried, in vain, to get up and run away. Janice had placed one of her boots on the deer´s shoulderblade, and put the knife to its throat. The moment she had dug the knifeblade into its flesh and slit, the rush of blood to her head, and the strong feeling of being so alive and in control over life and death was so immense, she had almost orgasmed. The sight of the big man about to fall apart before her, filled Janice with pleasure and sadistic joy. A narrow stream of blood ran down his bare throat. She was in complete power now. If she only pressed the edge a little deeper... Then he started crying. At first without a sound. One tear, then another... She had broken his resistance and his hard-spotted, ridiculous macho pride. He no longer caressed her big tits with his horny eyes. He no longer thought of the pleasure in fucking her, or getting fucked by her on the king-sized bed. He cried. When the tears started pouring down his cheeks, Janice used the knife to slash the clothes off his body, and then threw it away. As she´d expected, his swollen 8-inch cock had reacted in a different manner than its enslaved master. Janice had seen this before. Without any warning, she kicked him in the ribs, and stopped his childish sobbing. When he lay on his back, moaning, in great pain, she put the sole of her right boot in his face. "I forgot to wipe the dirt off my boots when I got back home. Well, never mind... That´s what your tongue is for, anyway." So he started licking the soles of her boots. What else could he do? Janice felt the last ounce of anger vanish as her slave cleaned the dirty rubber under her feet with his own saliva. After ten minutes, her leather panties were so soaked in her sex juices, that she felt as if she had peed in them. She stripped naked and sat down on his incredibly hard cock. She didn´t want him to put his dirty tongue inside her, not now. For the moment, she just wanted to fuck him into total submission. And that she did. She spat him repeatedly in the face during the ride. It turned her on, spitting a man all over his feeble face, while fucking his brains out. Being in the prime of her life, Janice had just turned 47, she expected only the best out of everything, and she knew she was worth it. She loved the wet, smacking sound of their sexes meeting and then parting. She punched him in the face everytime his dick touched her hard, sensitive clit. This was fucking at its best. He started bleeding from the nose right away. Then, as Janice reached the top of the hill and exploded in a series of mind-blowing orgasms, she landed a sharp punch on his chin and sent him into the dark regions of unconsciousness. Standing over his passed out body, she suddenly felt a strong urge to urinate. She watched his wide open, bleeding mouth and wondered if he would choke if she sat down and pissed in it. Should she... Giving it a second thought, she decided to use the toilet instead. This time. "so much for swedish sin!", she muttered on her way to the bathroom.