BadForm
Bad attitude in any Form
- Joined
- Feb 26, 2001
- Posts
- 4,550
Dr. Long
Jean-Paul raised himself from her and pulled up his trousers and underwear, fastening them so he was once again decent. I had no doubt that, once he returned to the kitchen, one of his slaves would have the pleasure of cleaning him off properly, but for now he wanted to ensure his duties as chef were fulfilled.
"Not bad, Dr. Long, but she still has a lot to learn I believe. If she chooses to work in the kitchen, it will be my pleasure to teach her."
I nodded, perhaps more angry than ever with my new slave after her reaction to Jean-Paul's orgasm. There were rules however, and I reminded him of it.
"She chooses her first position, Jean-Paul. I have my doubts she will choose the kitchen, but I will bear it in mind should she disappoint in the position she chooses."
"Very good, sir. Now, what would you like me to prepare you for luncheon?"
I'd almost forgotten how hungry I was after what had just happened, but his question brought a growl back to my belly.
"Sandwiches, Jean-Paul, I think pate de foie gras? Perhaps a fruit salad for desert? I am too hungry to wait any longer. Oh, and when you send one of your slaves through, have her bring a bottle of orange juice - with the rounded top."
He nodded and gave a smile as he left the room. I grabbed my slave by her chin and lifted her to face me. My eyes were steel against her soul.
"You will stop crying now. Nothing has happened that you have a right to object to, and no punishment given that you haven't earned. You still have a punishment to suffer to make up for your spilling of the food. Go stand in the corner and face into the room."
She didn't move at first, being too lost in her own devastation, so I pulled her up by her shoulders and shoved her roughly towards the wall. She reached out to steady herself and only when I called out to her again did she finally comply and take a stationary position. After that, I took a seat on the opposite side of the table from her and sat down facing her. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a single pill packet.
"Do you know what this is?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"It's the morning after pill. If you earn it, I will give you it tomorrow after you have... entertained all of my minority staff. To earn it however, you will no longer fuss, no longer complain and no longer delay in obeying. No matter WHAT you are instructed to do. Can you do that?"
I held the pill up to tantalize her. A racist like her should find that motivation enough. She nodded uncertainly.
"Of course, if you fail, there will be punishment. As racism is, to me, a cardinal sin there is only one punishment acceptable enough. That is that you will be used as a breeding whore by ONLY the worst I can find for you. I am not talking about clean people such as my slaves. I am talking about using you in back alleys - if you are lucky that will be here inthe USA. If you are unlucky... well, I have contacts in Iraq, Thailand, Zambia..."
A woman slave entered with the plate of sandwiches and a bottle of orange juice. The bottle was chilled - not frozen but still very cold. It was about 9 inches tall and had a semi-spherical cap. I watched her as I picked up a sandwich.
"Very well, the first thing you will do is warm this bottle for me. I do not feel like a cold drink just now."
The server went towards her and I clucked as she raised a hand.
"No, not like that. You will warm it within yourself. Server 3 will push this into your vagina. You will note that the string attached to the base can be used to pull it out again should it slip in entirely. Remember, it is this... or Thailand."
Jean-Paul raised himself from her and pulled up his trousers and underwear, fastening them so he was once again decent. I had no doubt that, once he returned to the kitchen, one of his slaves would have the pleasure of cleaning him off properly, but for now he wanted to ensure his duties as chef were fulfilled.
"Not bad, Dr. Long, but she still has a lot to learn I believe. If she chooses to work in the kitchen, it will be my pleasure to teach her."
I nodded, perhaps more angry than ever with my new slave after her reaction to Jean-Paul's orgasm. There were rules however, and I reminded him of it.
"She chooses her first position, Jean-Paul. I have my doubts she will choose the kitchen, but I will bear it in mind should she disappoint in the position she chooses."
"Very good, sir. Now, what would you like me to prepare you for luncheon?"
I'd almost forgotten how hungry I was after what had just happened, but his question brought a growl back to my belly.
"Sandwiches, Jean-Paul, I think pate de foie gras? Perhaps a fruit salad for desert? I am too hungry to wait any longer. Oh, and when you send one of your slaves through, have her bring a bottle of orange juice - with the rounded top."
He nodded and gave a smile as he left the room. I grabbed my slave by her chin and lifted her to face me. My eyes were steel against her soul.
"You will stop crying now. Nothing has happened that you have a right to object to, and no punishment given that you haven't earned. You still have a punishment to suffer to make up for your spilling of the food. Go stand in the corner and face into the room."
She didn't move at first, being too lost in her own devastation, so I pulled her up by her shoulders and shoved her roughly towards the wall. She reached out to steady herself and only when I called out to her again did she finally comply and take a stationary position. After that, I took a seat on the opposite side of the table from her and sat down facing her. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a single pill packet.
"Do you know what this is?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"It's the morning after pill. If you earn it, I will give you it tomorrow after you have... entertained all of my minority staff. To earn it however, you will no longer fuss, no longer complain and no longer delay in obeying. No matter WHAT you are instructed to do. Can you do that?"
I held the pill up to tantalize her. A racist like her should find that motivation enough. She nodded uncertainly.
"Of course, if you fail, there will be punishment. As racism is, to me, a cardinal sin there is only one punishment acceptable enough. That is that you will be used as a breeding whore by ONLY the worst I can find for you. I am not talking about clean people such as my slaves. I am talking about using you in back alleys - if you are lucky that will be here inthe USA. If you are unlucky... well, I have contacts in Iraq, Thailand, Zambia..."
A woman slave entered with the plate of sandwiches and a bottle of orange juice. The bottle was chilled - not frozen but still very cold. It was about 9 inches tall and had a semi-spherical cap. I watched her as I picked up a sandwich.
"Very well, the first thing you will do is warm this bottle for me. I do not feel like a cold drink just now."
The server went towards her and I clucked as she raised a hand.
"No, not like that. You will warm it within yourself. Server 3 will push this into your vagina. You will note that the string attached to the base can be used to pull it out again should it slip in entirely. Remember, it is this... or Thailand."
