Ready for business
Susicol@hotmail.com
A warrior believes in a quick victory. Sally doesn't agree. An other point of view.

So, there he is. Paul. In a kind of battle dress: khaki shorts, khaki 
shirt, socks, and boots. He doesn't come to negotiate, or make peace. 
His gang is following him. The men in front, the women behind. The men 
in a similar dress, the women in a blue dress. They are not meant to 
fight, just to admire their men. My girls are behind me. All dressed in 
the same way. Black boots, black skirt, black top. Meant to seduce. As 
he comes nearer, I assume the power stance: I open my feet, cross my 
arms. I can hear my Amazons doing the same. Meant to kill. He stops. I 
can see him beholding us. He must be under the impression. I can see his 
cock throbbing. But obviously he hasn't got peaceful intentions. 

"I guess you'd better surrender right away, dear Sally. You don't chance 
a chance anyway." I can't believe my ears. That is his idea of peace. He 
wants to reduce us to prisoners, to slaves. Ok he is a little bit 
taller, a lot heavier. But just watch him: I hardly can see his muscles, 
a little bit too much fat. And his attitude: so sure we will end up in 
his harem, it seems. The guys behind him seem to be discussing, pointing 
at my girls: each one choosing his own slave, I presume. 

Just to make sure, I ask him what is in it for me. Oh great: I won't be 
a public whore, just his private toy. And my girls, they would probably 
end up in the street... Oh, nice, he gets impatient: he orders me to 
take off my boots, and my belt: the sign of surrender. 

So, that's his idea. So full of himself... Let's start with it. Within 
some minutes we will know more. First some distraction maneuvers. I look 
behind me, asking my girls. Of course they don't agree. They don't want 
to loose their freedom, not to a bunch of men, not to anybody. I cannot 
imagine ourselves in a blue dress, admiring these silly machos. 

I turn around. I explain to him what I intend to do. I like to sound as 
intimidating as possible. I promise I will bring him down on his knees. 
I will take away his miserable bunch. I will take away his wife. He is 
going to loose all his property. I see him shivering: he obviously 
hasn't thought about it this way. He is so attached to his stupid 
property. Let's frighten him a little bit more. He will loose himself, 
he will loose his name. I promise him he will be my whore. Nothing more, 
nothing less: just a whore. He doesn't know how to keep himself. 

Let's take advantage of the moment. I tempt him: "Paul, just look at the 
sky: it is the last time you can see it in freedom." He falls for it. He 
looks up, watching the sky, so stupidly. His guys see what is happening, 
they see how stupid he is. I don't hesitate, not a moment. I jump 
forward, throw my left boot forward, right into his balls. He just 
doubles up, he tries to protect his balls. But I do not stop. Two times, 
three times, four times. All with my left foot. I have to seize the 
advantage, make it a decisive one. He looks down, watches my feet. He is 
just not able to react. I know he is a right hander. If I could just 
take his right arm out of the equation. I move to my left, slip behind 
him. I grab his right elbow. I jerk it backwards. I intend to cripple 
that arm. With my left arm, I take his wrist. I turn it, slowly, but 
surely. Nice chickenwing. I hear him screaming. His left arm is just 
flying about. Rather silly. A great warrior, isn't he? I put my right 
arm around his neck. He nearly stops breathing! Just from fear? He 
thinks I am going to strangle him now. Oh no, this is just too much fun. 
I lean backwards. He is dancing on his toes, hanging on my right arm. He 
is sweating: exhaustion or fright? 

There, I know victory is mine. Perhaps he doesn't know yet. Let's toy a 
little bit longer. So much fun. Let's intimidate a little further. He 
has got the right to know his situation, hasn't he? I put the screw a 
little bit further. I put on my most seductive whisper: "You know I 
could destroy you, don't you?" Must sound horrible to him such a sweet 
voice telling the most horrible words. Wouldn't I humiliate him a little 
bit? He has to know who is in charge. I demand an answer. He stammers: 
"Yes, you can destroy me." Obviously he felt what I intended him to 
feel. I see tears in the corners of his eyes. Not only he has admitted 
my superiority, but he gave in to my order. A major blow to his ego... 

In the meantime, I have seen his friends. They understood. They ran 
away, men and women, all together, his wife in front... Just in the 
direction where half my army are waiting for them. They are just running 
towards captivity. I will see them back soon. 

I just repeat what I've got in store for him. And I show him where his 
friends were. He starts crying. Utter panic in his eyes. He knows he is 
alone. Perhaps he knows his end is near. Perhaps he would want to 
surrender. No, I won't let him that chance. I just enjoy this too much. 
"You are just my toy, boy..." I add a little screw, and release him. 

He drops on his feet. I did a nice job: his right arm won't serve too 
much any more, it just hangs next to his stupid body. He breathes 
heavily, his looks are rather subdued, to say the least, he is sweating 
heavily. He tries to stabilize. I don't think I will let that happen. I 
just dance around him: I am so much fitter than he is, and he has to 
hurry to keep up. He doesnt want me to come in on his right side. Let's 
try him. Left, right, left. For now he can block my punches, with his 
left arm... That won't go on. I will drag his defences down. 

He seems to have taken up some courage. That's it, let him take some 
risks. I move back. Stand still? Just provoking his punch. I just have 
to avoid his fist, or it is all over for me. He gets ready for the 
punch: so obvious. I see it coming. Just a little step to the left, a 
small nod of the head, and he throws a hole in the air!. I jump forward 
, under his arm, under his defences. This is the moment I have been 
waiting for. How silly can you get. Left, right, left, right, all into 
his belly. I have to wear down his stomach muscles. Some more, just for 
good measure. He brings back his left arm, just to protect his belly. 
That means something else is without defence. I look up. I just see a 
grimace on his face, he doesn't open his eyes any more. His chin is 
free! I don't wait a moment. I step back quickly, I put all my power and 
weight behind it. An uppercut square on his chin. His head comes down. 
His left arm goes up, he is protecting his head. 

Now: for the kill... Let's finish him. He must realize everything I 
promised him will become true: how would it be to know you're heading 
for slavery? Some minutes ago, he was the proud leader of a whole bunch 
of warriors. Within some minutes, he will have lost everything. Now he 
must have lost his last hope. 

I go back to his belly. Another combination... At last! His muscles give 
away. His belly is just a weak mass. Some more hits, just to bring him 
down. His arm comes down. 

If I just took out this arm. I keep on hammering, now on his left 
shoulder. His face: so stupid, but also, at last: resignation in his 
eyes. Some more blows: his left arms drops! It is out, I've conquered 
his last defence. Just hoist the flag now: the total conquest. 

Let's sap his morale completely. "Well, boy, do you know where you are 
heading." He seems to nod, he is just standing there, his shoulders 
down, his arms down, his chin on his chest. 

Oh how much I enjoy this. I hammer his chest a little bit. His body is 
mine, I already do what I want with him. 

I take his chin into my fingers. I lift his head. Not to admire his 
tears, his shivers. No, just for the finish. I am honest, I tell him 
what will happen. "Boy, you are going down..." 

I step back, stride forward, let my right arm swing. It connects 
marvellously. Left arm. His head: backward, but he stumbles forward. His 
knees give: he falls on his knees. He puts his left arm on the ground. 
No mercy now: I kick his arm away. He falls down, his nose right into 
the mud. 

For the first time I hear my girls. The roar is enormous. They embrace 
each other. Our realm is bigger again. 

He looks nice, that way. Spreadeagled: his legs open, his arms open, his 
head on his side, his eyes half closed, tears running out of them. He 
hasn't lost consciousness. He knows he lost everything else. He probably 
wonders what treatment I intend for him. He would better not know. He 
would be crying a little bit more. 

First for the victory picture. To put next to fifteen other pictures. I 
put my boot on his shoulders. Another roar. Just to certify my 
superiority: I remind him of his destiny: prisoner, slave, whore. I see 
a small smile: as if he knew all along this would be the end of the 
road. 

I put my feet on both sides of his body. His body? Not any more: soon my 
body to play with. I feel the shivers on that body. I kneel down, 
squeeze that body between my knees. I take his right arm, his left arm, 
and cross them over. I take my rope, and pull it, as strictly as 
possible. No question of letting him some chance. 

So, now it is official: he is my prisoner. All resistance is broken. 
From now on, I will have some more fun. Prisoners don't have the right 
to speak. Let's show that. I order him to open his mouth. 

Oh, he doesn't obey right away. How I like that, a little hesitation. I 
grab his nose, pull back his silly head. I pinch his nostrils. Nice: his 
big mouth just falls open. I fill it right away: with a big red ball. 
Even more fear in his eyes. I pull back the straps, and lock them right 
in his neck. My friends seem to appreciate. 

From now on, it is all so simple. I am going to show my prize what he is 
worth. And he is going to realize it, step by step. I will strip him of 
his right to speak, of his name, of his clothes, of his honour, of his 
dignity, of everything human. In the end he looses his own free will. He 
will just be a body, my body, doing what I want it to do. But I won't do 
it all at once. I will do it so slowly. I enjoy every second of it. I 
deserved it: the battle was hard enough. He is worth every single part 
of the humiliationb he is going to get. Perhaps he is aware of what he 
is going to get. 

I pull him up, by his hair, his brown shortish hair. More tears in his 
eyes, just some stupid "mmphs" from his mouth. Strange: when he is 
standing up, he is taller than I am, heavier, looking stronger. But now, 
he is mine, so helpless. 

He stands up, shoulders down, looking to the ground. I push him ion the 
right direction. That right direction is not difficult to find. The road 
is lined with my girls, including those of the away-party: they 
obviously have done their job. Everybody is jubilant. They know they 
have beaten an enemy. I have beaten their leader. How much I enjoy this 
triumphal march. The enemy leader in front, tied up, utterly defeated, 
ramping towards his end. Everybody knows what his destiny is. Perhaps he 
knows himself. 

There we are, the execution place. I hold him back, just before the 
arch. I want to announce the spectacle myself. My girls are entitled to 
it. And my prisoner is entitled to the wait. He probably will enjoy 
that. Just in front of that arch. Waiting for his execution. 

That is why I whisper him some nice words into the ears. Just to 
frighten him a little bit more. Indeed, he won't forget this place. This 
will be the place where he looses his own personality. How much I ike 
him that way: his arms tied on his back, his head hanging down, stooped, 
tears flowing, his knees bent: the ultimate prisoner. 

My friend, my dear Lindy will keep Paul under control. If you ever 
doubted female superiority, just watch Lindy: six feet tall, so slender, 
not an ounce of fat, just muscles. Long black boots, a black short 
skirt, and our halter top. Long black hair. Great green eyes. Never 
doubting herself. My perfect guard. She even doesn't have to look at 
Paul. She knows she is the boss. 

I go forward, right into our paradeground. How much my girls like me. 
They keep on chanting my name. I stretch out my arms. They calm down. 
They hush down. At last I can announce our victory. How much I like this 
moment. They have deserved it so much, They have been waiting for it, 
but so have I. I just have to confirm their superiority. And superior 
they are. All of them: combat boots, short black skirt, and a halter 
top. All of them: not one ounce or fat. All of them: jubilant. I just 
have to announce what they know already: "Amazons, what had to happen, 
happened. I vanquished the enemy. I conquered their leader. He is our 
prisoner. He will be my slave. He will be our whore!" They yell it out. 
I look towards my right. Lindy smiles, as triumphantly as I do. She just 
gives Paul a little push, between the shoulder. 

He has already seen where he should go: a cross on the other side of the 
ground. He starts to walk. Lindy is just behin him. But he knows where 
he should go, where the end of his journey is. But it is so far. My 
girls start clapping their hands. Slow clapping. Just accompanying his 
steps. He doesn't dare to look up. Lindy smiling broadly. He just walks, 
that silly ballgag filling his mouth. Not that fast, but surely. 

At last he stands in front of our cross. He looks up. Fright everywhere. 
He shrinks away. I know he won't run away. Just make sure of it. I tell 
him I will take back that ballgag. I am going to release his wrists. I 
know he is already subdued: he will follow my orders. Anyway, Lindy 
would be glad to force him... I tell him, he is so glad to nod. Probably 
he believes his obedience wil help him. I snap off his gag. He is so 
glad to be able to breathe a little bit. I cut off his ties. He watches 
me, he looks at his wrists, he rubs his right wrist a little bit. He 
looks into my eyes, and nods. He stops rubbing, and walks back. He looks 
for the cross, and stands against it. He raises both arms. Just towards 
the beam. He doesn't have the time to draw his arms back. Lindy and Toni 
were ready: they grab his arms, stretch them out, and throw ropes over 
them. They pull back the ropes, and tie that poor guy up. Poor Paul, 
once so proud... 

He cannot move any more. Lindy comes towards me. She whispers into my 
ears: "We have got all of them. Maggy is yours." I would like to scream, 
to sing. My victory is complete: his wife is mine! What more do I need? 

Let's start this execution. First tell him what he is good for. I own 
his wife now. He looks right into my eyes, then looks down. He realizes 
it must be true. He slowly drops his head, watches his feet, hangs down 
his head. I just want to put him out completely: "Dear Paul, listen 
carefully: this is the last time you hear your name. Enjoy it for the 
last time: Paul. My whores don't have a name. From now on you are not 
Paul any more. You are number sixteen. Understood?" 

He snaps up his head, so frightened. He looks into my eyes. Unbelieving. 
Then he sees I mean business. And he nods. 

Right! Let's begin. I get out my knife. I show it, in front of his eyes. 
It is blinking in front of him. I am very methodical. I am going to get 
rid of his shirt first. But I will do it slowly. So he will feel slowly 
how he goes down. 

I put the blade under the highest button. The lade rest against his 
chest. He shivers, I see pimples... I snap off the first button, one 
more, one more, until the last. His hirt is completely open. I see his 
chest. Not so much hair, lots op pimples. He is shivering all over. I 
see a little bit of hope in his eyes. Does he really believe I am going 
to release his arms? Why would I, I do not want his shirt for anything 
any more. I cut open his right sleeve, and pull the cut through... The 
shirt pulls open. Same thing on the left side. I tear it off. His chest 
is naked. I hold the rest of the shirt in my hand, and show it to my 
friends. They cheer me. "Sixteen" is shivering. He looks even more 
ridiculous. He hangs down on his wrists, just in his boots, and his 
shorts. His knees are bent, his whole weight is pulling on his arms, his 
head is just rolling from one side to another. Nobody would just believe 
that this guy used to be a proud fighter some minutes ago. And just in 
case anybody would believe it... 

I stand in front of him, I hold his chin in my hands, just as I did some 
time ago. I just announce his fate. I am going to take everything away. 
His clothes, but also his honour, and his humanity. I caress his chest. 
I squeeze his nipple. And he cannot do anything about it. 

Everything is rather symbolic. The loss of your shoes means the loss of 
yourself: you become the property of the owner of the shoes: you become 
a slave. Once you are naked, you cannot even run away from your master. 

My girls are shouting: "The shoes, the shoes...". Of course, I do not 
want to show any mercy, not towards the vanquished leader of the enemy. 
Not after he defied us. And this is a part of the ceremony I adore. I 
humiliate him by kneeling in front of him. I fondle his legs, all the 
way down. He feels where I am heading for. I see him looking straight in 
front of him. His chin is shivering, his tears are running down. His 
muscles are tout. I take my knife, and shove it under the shoelaces. I 
turn it around, and pull, and cut! Same procedure on the left side. He 
already lost his shoes. But it is so much more humiliating if he has to 
help me. "Sixteen, hold up your right foot". Slowly he bends his knee, 
never a show of strength. I pull off the boot. And then I roll off her 
sock. But I do it slowly. The longer it lasts, the longer he thinks he 
can hold onto it. But there are his toes. I throw back this sock. Same 
thing on his left side. There he is, on his bare feet. Just in his 
battle-shorts, shivering, and in tears. What would he be thinking now??? 
If I allow him to keep on one piece of clothing, he will be a working 
slave. Not a bit of liberty, but not a prostitute. 

My girls are relentless: "A whore, a whore, a whore". That's the fate he 
promised me. I'll just be honest: he will get the fate he promised me. 

Just in case he doesn't know where he is heading for. I want all my 
slaves to be nice, to be beautiful. I take a lipstick, and show it, 
right in front of his eyes. I see his eyes following the stick. He sees 
the bright orange colour. He knows how to keep his lips, nicely tout. I 
paint a nice little heart. Show him a mirror. Where is our hero? 

Imagine him running away now: just in his shorts, on bare feet, and with 
that ridiculous heart on his lips. 

I am going to finish him off. But slowly. And he has still got a belt! 
It keeps up his shorts, and some people would be proud of it. I give a 
sign. The spots are trained right onto it. I azm going to take it off. 
What would he do? I approach him, and grasp his belt. I pull myself 
close to him, push myself against him, push my breasts against him. I 
feel his cock... Not yet, boy... I slide my hands behind the belt? The 
back of my hand against his belly. The belly I beat to rubbish some 
hours ago... He can't keep his cock under control. It grows harder. I 
take the clasp, and shove it together. I unclasp it. I let it hang. The 
shorts already slide a little bit down. I take the clasp, and pull it 
out. But of course I do it slowly: he has to enjoy it as much as I do. I 
want to give him some courage: "My dear, don't think about your glorious 
past. It won't come back. Just think about the joy you're going to 
provide us..." 

He is so ridiculous, crying like a child. Let's get over with him. I 
hold up my knife. No, really, I am not going to castrate him, I want to 
keep my property intact. But it doesn't hurt if he thinks that... 

Just excite him a little bit. Just rub his cock a little bit. I can do 
with my property what I want, can't I? 

"Baby, three buttons to the end". 

I cut the lowest button. He squeezes his knees. As if that would delay 
anything. Just tell him his situation: "Oh my sixteen, don't you 
remember? You lost the right to wear clothes. The moment you fell down, 
the moment I tied you up, the moment you became my prisoner." The second 
button. I hear every thread snapping. And the third one. I can see his 
underpants. Rather ridiculous: blue, with white flowers. He also knows 
his defences are growing scarce. He wouldn't ever have thought to be in 
this situation. He is shivering, pulling on his bonds... I insist on his 
rights. Very short. He hasn't got any. For such a macho, just the idea 
of loosing all his clothes to a woman must be horrible. Ant this is just 
what he deserves. But perhaps he hopes to be able to stick to one piece 
of garment, not to loose all of his honour. Oh, oh, oh, will he ever 
learn? Does he really hope I would back down, doesn't he remember his 
threats? 

Some minutes of agony left. What a pity, But of course, I enjoy the 
endgame most of all. He will be at his lowest level, I will be towering 
above him. Would he know where he is heading for? He is still squeezing 
his legs, trying to keep up his shorts. Great! So utterly stupid. 

I take the button in my right hand. I pull it towards myself. His pants 
have to follow, his loins have to follow. Pathetic, he is curbing 
himself, just to avoid the unavoidable. He is stretched completely. He 
cannot stretch any more. I take my dagger, and saw, off course slowly. 
There it snaps. I have the button in my fingers, he falls back. He falls 
against the cross. I peel open these nice shorts. I fold them open. I 
look into his eyes, I smile, deliberately. He doesn't dare to look into 
my eyes. He keeps his legs together, stubbornly. He presses himself 
against the cross. 

Of course the easiest way would be to pull those pants down. But that 
would be too simple. Something more superior, funnier, more degrading... 
I just tickle the spot above his underpants. His cock grows even harder. 
Some more control established. Just the fullest form of control: the 
plain order. Showing what his position is, and mine. He is my slave. He 
has to let his pants down, if I want him to. "Open your legs, and bring 
that butt forwards." 

He doesn't dare to open his eyes any more. He can't get his head up. 
Slowly, so slowly, his body comes apart from the wood. And ever so 
slowly his feet move apart. And there goes the last part of his uniform: 
over his butt, his thighs, his knees, down onto his ankles. What a 
marvellous sight. Crucified, limp, in his underpants, the shorts on his 
ankles. Now a slave, soon a whore. 

I nearly cannot wait. I order him to get rid of the pants. I jerk them 
away, show them to my public. I throw them into the bonfire. 

Loot at him, he is shivering all over his body, he is even still jerking 
on his bonds. I will release him of his last uncertainty. I won't leave 
him anything, not even a shred of hope. 

I am going to take away his last garment. And I will explain him why. A 
whore has to show his (yes, his) qualities. And his cock wants its 
liberty. It has been contained for too long. And as his body is public 
property by now, why would he have any private parts. In fact, I am 
going to liberate it of its oppression by a fool. Going to liberate it 
by some cuts. From then on it will be of service to all my friends. 

Three elastics away from my aim. One elastic around each leg, one around 
the hips. Five centimeters of fabric on each hip. Some cuts, and out 
will be the dick. 

I stand in front of my new slave, my whore to be. I lick my dagger. The 
whore closes his eyes. 

Oh no, I want the whore to see his own destruction. I order him to watch 
that piece of fabric. He rest his chin on his chest, again, as I want 
him to. He probably remembers his boots, his socks, his shirt, his 
shorts. Perhaps he even remembers his honour, his freedom, his name. 
Sweet sixteen. 

I prick the dagger, straight through the fabric, into his flesh. Just 
under the wasteband. I move it downwards. Of course so slowly, I want to 
remember this moment forever. And look at his hardon! I put my two 
fingers next to the blade. Watch into his eyes. Utter despair. Complete 
emptiness. As befits a slave. A short snap. One elastic wasted. 

Left hip: cut the lower elastic. Those panties are very unsure now. Not 
for a long time anyway. 

I cannot withstand it: just feel my property. Handle his big prick a 
little bit. Who would resist me. And it is so huge. And mine! I pinch 
it. The whore screams. 

Two down, two to go. Those panties look more and more like a skirt. And 
come on, a whore with clothes on, who would buy that? I bring him back 
to his natural state. Just do him justice. I go to his right hip. It 
really looks nice, that last piece holding together what is left of his 
dignity. I slowly cut upwards. I put my two fingers next to the dagger. 
I press down. So whore sixteen won't feel what will happen. Not that it 
matters. I cut it. It is done. But he doesn't know. So much control. His 
cock is huge, it sticks out. I release my fingers: the fabric is hanging 
on his dick. He presses his ass together. To his left hip: the last four 
centimeters of a long journey: from hero to whore. I saw it. It is so 
silent everybody can hear the tissue tearing apart. The knife into the 
rubber: some millimeters. I am through! The back of his pants fall down, 
his ass is bare. Let's put a stop to the comedy. I pull away the tissue. 
Whore sixteen is stark naked. 

The stands erupt with joy. All my girls want to see my property, that 
enormous dick, that helpless male, our ridiculous whore. 

And what is the difference between a slave and a whore? Exactly. We will 
show what this man is made for, what all men are made for. I take the 
instrument into my fingers. I rub it a little bit. Of course, that 
stupid bitch cannot contain himself. His dick grows harder. Oh yes, I am 
going to milk that baby, my baby. So humiliating, he is not even able 
any more to control his own sperm. I rub him, tickle him: he is 
squirming, crawling. I order him to abandon all resistance. I squeeze 
the monster, feel the spurt coming, and release it. He explodes, and 
screams out. The whore starts to enjoy it. As any whore should. 

He smiles, he asks for more. But he would better show himself what he is 
worth. I order my girls to release him. At last the long awaited moment. 
They untie him. But he cannot run any more. He falls down, on his knees. 
He even tries to cover his dick. Come on, he cannot be serious. Not only 
he wants to do something out of his own will. He also things he can keep 
anything form his owners. I just take away that last illusion. 

He lost his pride, his dignity his honours, the moment I chickenwinged 
him. From that moment there was no way back, he was heading straight to 
where he is now. And his only right now, is to show what he is, and to 
show it to everybody. I give number sixteen a very simple order. An 
order even a male can understand. 

He understands. He is still sitting on his knees, he takes his shaft in 
his fingers, and moves his fingers up and down, faster and faster. His 
cock swells, swells, and explodes. The whore falls down his limbs open, 
spreadeagled. I can hear the sobs. 

My whore is ready for the job.