Collared Slutgirls

“So, where do you want to go for your birthday, pumpkin?”
Becca looked at her dad, who was smiling across from her at the kitchen table while they ate large platters of his regular birthday pancakes. She knew where she wanted to spend her 18th birthday, but had to swallow before she could say it aloud.
“I want to go to the Slave Expo,” she said, proud she sounded so calm.
She expected him to frown or look stern, but instead he only looked thoughtful.
“I wondered when you’d bring it up,” he said, laughing when Becca’s jaw dropped. “Oh, surely you didn’t think I hadn’t noticed your fascination with the place, princess?”
Becca shook her head. “I just know Mom never liked the placed, so…”
“You thought I’d disapprove? Well, your mother and I didn’t see eye to eye on everything. And, as much as I loved her, she’s been gone three years now. We’ve had to move on without her.”
Becca nodded. Losing her mother to cancer had been hard, but it had been especially hard on her father, who had seemed lost without her. Even now, he wore loneliness about the house, only seeming to get through the days because his daughter was still there. She wondered what he would do when she left for college.
“So, after school, I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to the Slave Expo, Becca,” her dad said.
Becca grinned. “It’s a deal.”

School had never seemed so interminable. Worse, Josh approached her in the lunch room.
“Hey, Becky,” he said.
Becca grimaced. She and Josh were next door neighbors and had grown up together. They’d been inseparable through elementary school. But as they’d grown older, she’d drifted out of interest in “Star Wars” and anime – at least, in public, where people could see – and he’d only grown more entrenched in their nerdy passions. So, while she still might watch cartoons at home, at school she was as “normal” as possible, and Josh was an uncomfortable reminder of her secrets. He was also the only person to still call her Becky, when she’d dropped it for Becca in seventh grade.
“Hey, Josh,” she mumbled.
“Happy birthday,” he said, ignoring her dagger glare as he sat across from her. “I got you something.”
He pushed a poorly wrapped bauble at her and Becca’s breath hitched. What was he doing?
“Go ahead, open it,” he said.
Becca reluctantly tore the newspaper away to reveal a brightly colored charm bracelet. It was little more than cheap plastic but she blinked at the sight. It was a perfect replica of the bracelets from her favorite animated series, just like the princess warriors wore.
“Do you like it?” Josh asked.
She loved it. But Lydia and her friends were approaching and they would brutal if they saw her with it.
She cleared her throat.
“No, Josh,” she said. “I’m not 8 anymore. I don’t want your stupid bracelet.”
Josh frowned at her. “You don’t, Becky?”
She pushed it away with regret. “No.”
Josh slipped it into his pocket. “Ok, then. I’ll leave you alone, then. Happy birthday anyway.”
“Yeah,” Becca said and sighed with relief as he left.
“What was that about?” Lydia asked as she sat in the seat Josh had vacated.
“Nothing,” Becca said. “Just a misunderstanding.”

Her dad picked her up at 3:30 and they drove straight to the Slave Expo. There, after she got the rubber wristband that declared her accompanied by her parent, they entered the building.
It was nearly overwhelming. Naked slutgirls were prancing around everywhere, from the well-fucked gatecrashers locked in the pillories next to the front gates to the leashed slaves following their masters through the teeming crowds.
“A bit much, isn’t it?” her dad asked.
“It’s amazing,” Becca said.
Her dad only laughed and the two began to wander through the crowds, stopping in front of booths to remark on various sights – slutgirls chained to the stage by their collars, masturbating at the edge of platforms, while others hung from their bound wrists in front of display poles; barely legal teens like Becca paraded in front of leering crowds, cringing in fear as hands brushed their naked flesh yet still leaning into each touch as their lust rose; and other images that had Becca’s own cunt moistening beneath her skirt, forcing her to rub her thighs surreptitiously to try and relieve the ache.
They ate dinner at a small café near the auction floor, enjoying steak and shrimp served by naked servers while drinking fresh milk provided by the girlcows chained at the end of the bar, all the while watching slutgirls sold to eager bidders.
“So, what do you think of the Slave Expo now, kiddo?” Becca’s dad asked.
“It’s a lot to take in,” Becca said. “But it’s all fascinating.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“You ever think of buying a slave, dad?” Becca asked, then wondered where the question came from.
“Every once in a while,” he said. “But your mom disapproved and I loved her too much to bring in a slutgirl while she was alive. And, now, I’ve had you to think about.”
“Not for much longer,” Becca said gently.
“No, I guess not,” he said thoughtfully.

After dinner, they went to the game tents and decided to split up. Becca’s bracelet would keep her from being collared for being underage as long as she didn’t leave the games area without her dad.
“Now, be careful, sweetheart,” he said. “I know you want to play some games, but try not to end up collared, ok?”
Becca smiled faintly. “And if I do?”
“Well, I’ll still love you,” he said. “Just try not to be won by some frat guy at least.”
Becca laughed. “OK, dad.”
Becca wasn’t sure she did want to play any games, but they were wonderful to watch. She enjoyed watching helpless girls cum away their freedom in the rape chairs and then watched a few girls ravished helplessly into slavery after hit in the shooting gallery.
Then she ran into Lydia.
“Oh, Becca,” Lydia said with false sweetness. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Lydia was one of the most popular girls in school, despite being a stuck-up bitch, and Becca didn’t dare spite her too publicly.
“It’s my birthday,” she said.
“Really?” Lydia said. “Well, then we must celebrate. Maybe play some games.”
“I’m not playing tonight,” Becca said.
“Oh, but you must,” Lydia said. “Unless you’re afraid?”
Admitting fear to Lydia was akin to stretching your arm in front of a rattlesnake.
“Of course not,” Becca said.
“Then you’ll play?”
“Any game you pick.”
“Excellent!” Lydia said. “How about this one?”
Becca blanched when she saw it. Nude girls, arms chained about their heads, were lined up in front of the contestants. Each had rings on their nipples and clit, with bells hanging from them. The contestants then threw soft balls at the girls, trying to ring the bells and win small prizes. If anyone knocked one or more bells off entirely, they won the girl outright as a slutgirl.
“Ok,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “You coming?”
“I’ll play the next one,” Lydia said with a barely-disguised sneer.
Becca simply got into line. Soon she was talking to another volunteer, a 21-year-old law student named Stephanie who had come with her boyfriend on a lark.
Then they were behind the booth, stripping their clothes off and folding them neatly into bundles to recover if they returned free. Becca wondered if she would ever see them again.
Then they inside the booth. Three slutgirls already hung in line, the rings in their tits and clit permanent. Becca’s hands were tied in front of her and then stretched overhead and clipped to a hook, leaving her suspended on her tiptoes. Then small clamps, with rings on the end, were brought out and she swallowed uneasily.
“Don’t move,” the games worker said. “I don’t want to have to do this more than once.”
Becca squealed in pain as the first clamp seemed to crush her nipple, but she didn’t move. The second one was almost as bad, and when the third clamp was applied to her strangely erect clit, she almost fainted, but she clung to consciousness. Then the bells were hung from the rings on each clamp and Becca froze, afraid to dislodge one by simply moving and end up collared forever.
“Don’t worry, they’re harder to remove than you think,” the man laughed as he moved on to ring Stephanie.
Becca looked out at the contestants, most of them leering men. Stephanie’s boyfriend, who Becca recognized from the waiting line, was opposite Stephanie, grinning and tossing a ball from hand to hand.
Opposite Becca, Lydia stood with a smile on her face and cruelty in her eyes, a ball in each hand.
Becca decided to cut her losses and stuck her tongue out at Lydia. The mean girl froze in shock, then narrowed her eyes and dropped into a pitcher’s stance.
The gong to start rang out and almost immediately balls started to fly. Becca squealed as several hit her in the stomach and tits, causing her flesh to jiggle and the clamps to shift uncomfortably, but the man was right about the bells. They wouldn’t ring unless hit directly. Lydia swore and kept throwing.
Meanwhile, Becca’s wriggling was soon for another reason entirely. Lydia’s poor throwing was still forcing her to dance on her toes, and the swinging weight of the clamps had her bare cunt leaking profusely. Her arousal was steadily rising with no relief in sight.
Next to her, Stephanie screamed as a ball hit her clit dead on, the bell ringing loudly. Then a second one hit her there, and a third. She was shaking uncontrollably, the direct hits forcing her to cum loudly. When the fourth one hit, she slumped in ecstasy, only to scream in horror as the movement dislodged the bell from her clamp. It fell to the floor with a distinct ring, and a new slutgirl was born with the chime.
Becca smiled sadly as Stephanie was taken down from the hook and handed over to her boyfriend, who locked a collar around her neck and then led her off on a leash for a proper slaverape. Strangely, Stephanie looked radiant in her new slavery.
Then Becca screamed in ecstasy herself. Lydia had thrown off-target and therefore hit Becca’s clit directly. The bell rang loudly and Becca came with the impact on her swollen button. But the bell remained hooked in place and Lydia swore as the gong rang again to end the game.
When Becca came around again, Lydia had a stuffed bear in her hands and a scowl on her face.
“Nice hit,” Becca said and Lydia simply growled.
“So,” Becca added. “Which game are you playing?”
Lydia froze. She’d never expected Becca to come out free and hold her to the exchange. But now she could hardly back out.
“There,” Lydia said without hesitation. “The dunking booth.”

The dunking booths were little different than before the slavery laws, except all the prospective dunking victims were girls and entirely nude. And, of course, if they came up sputtering, they were collared on the spot by whoever made the lucky shot.
Lydia stripped almost theatrically before she climbed up the small staircase and sat on the bench above the water, seemingly carefree. She posed dramatically on the seat, thrusting her well-shaped breasts out as if daring anyone to enslave her.
Her demeanor slipped a bit when she saw her opponent – Luke was a college freshman who’d pitched for the champion high school baseball team before earning a sports scholarship with his arm. But she quickly resumed her position, refusing to admit to any trepidation.
Luke had three balls before Lydia could step down. The first one went too high and Lydia smiled.
“Not quite, slugger,” she purred.
Luke ignored her and threw a second ball, which hit the backdrop with a loud thump, just missing the target underneath the red dot.
“Too bad,” Lydia said.
“Just testing the range,” Luke said and hurled the last ball.
“As if you…” Lydia said and then her though was cut off as she shrieked to find the bench collapsing under her and she plummeted into the water below.
She came up sputtering, like every victim before her, and angry as the wet hen she now resembled. But before she could so much as try and climb out, Luke’s arms wrapped around her nubile form and yanked her of the water. Disoriented, Lydia could only flail helplessly as a collar was locked around her throat and her hands yanked behind her and shackled together.
Then the new slutgirl was dragged over to a picnic table and thrown over it, breasts squashed against the surface, her legs dangling over the edge. Still trying to find her outrage amidst her sudden enslavement, Lydia could only squeal as her new master pulled his erect cock out and plunged it into her sodden slavecunt.
As Becca watched with horrified fascination, Lydia was soon grunting with every thrust into her pussy, the water dripping from her naked limbs unable to disguise the fact her slavecunt was dripping with a moisture of a different nature. Soon, Lydia was squealing in pleasure, her mind swamped by ecstasy as she came for the first time as a slutgirl, her slaverape forcing her to embrace her new servitude. By the time Luke emptied his balls into his new property, she was looking at him with besotted wonder, her hauteur replaced by a fawning need to please. He clipped a leash to her collar and, after patting her dry with a towel, led her away into her new life of slavery.
Lydia never even looked back at her free friends. She was a slave now.

Becca told herself she was done with games but after watching Lydia’s enslavement, her own cunt was dripping again, her orgasm during the bells game long forgotten.
So, when she saw the hammer game, she stopped to see it in action.
It was an ingenious twist on the old carnival standby. While the contestant still swung a heavy hammer at a target on the ground, it was no longer attached to a bell system. Instead, the force of the swing was converted into energy by an electric device which sent a corresponding charge into a vibrating dildo buried in some poor girl’s cunt. Hit the lever hard enough and the dildo might force the girl to have a spontaneous orgasm and the luck contestant would lead a new slutgirl away. Hit it with less force, and the girl would enjoy a pleasant buzz and walk away free.
Becca watched four or five girls bury the dildo in their pussies, not even having to take off their skirts for the game. In this one, the girl was only stripped if she were collared. Not one girl was enslaved, the hammer proving hard to master for the hapless contestants.
So, eager for one last game before she sought out her dad to go home, Becca stepped up and soon had the metal dildo strapped into her pussy, the vibrating end lodged right against her G-spot.
She waited to see who would swing the hammer and was shocked to see Josh approaching.
“Josh?” she said.
“Hey, Becky,” he said. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“You’re going to play?” Becca said, trying not to sound too skeptical.
Josh laughed and took off his jacket, revealing a thin but surprisingly solid frame. “Did you know I’ve been taking weight training the past three years?”
Becca swallowed nervously and opened her mouth to respond but then Josh hefted the hammer with unlikely ease and swung it down rapidly.
Becca’s world turned white.
After a moment, she realized she was screaming in ecstasy, the dildo inside her sending sensations to her she’d never imagined. Her orgasm crashed down on her like a tidal wave and she collapsed to her knees as aftershocks had her quivering almost bonelessly.
Even as she struggled to find her bearings, Josh was lifting her to her feet effortlessly and was stripping her like a doll, until she was standing naked before him. She blushed and tried to cover herself, but he pulled her arms behind her with inexorable force and locked them in steel shackles, leaving her small but firm breasts and swollen, leaking cunt exposed to his now avaricious eyes.
Then, without hesitation, he pulled a collar out and locked it around her throat.
Becca moaned. She was a slutgirl now, a slave to be used by men… to be used by Josh! Josh was her master! She moaned again with embarrassment and unexpected lust.
Josh clipped a leash to her collar – she had a collar! she was a slave! – and led her to a small table near the hammer game. There, he threw her on her back on the cold metal and spread her legs wide.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, you little slut,” Josh said with surprising gentleness. Then he plunged his cock into he waiting slavecunt.
If his words had been gentle, his actions were not. He slaveraped her with unbridled eagerness, forcing her to take every inch of his cock, wringing pleasure from her receptive flesh with each thrust. She was soon screaming in ecstasy as she came and came again, her slavery overwhelming her in an inexorable tide of servitude and submission.
She came one last time as Josh sank his cock to the root in her cunt and spilled his seed deep then lay there panting while he pulled out and wiped himself clean on her thigh.
“Well done, slave,” Josh said and Becca flushed with pleasure.
“Now, you’ll need a new name as a slave,” Josh said. Becca looked at him in panic and wondered what degrading name he might hang on her after the way she’d treated him for so long. Cumbucket? Sluthole? She’d heard so many but never thought she might carry such a name.
“I think I’ll call you Becky,” Josh said and Becky almost cried with love and joy as she accepted she had found her master.
“Thank you, master,” Becky said. “This slave is named Becky.”
“Of course, as a slave, you’ll be kept naked most of the time, but if you’re Becky, this might belong to you,” Josh said, and he pulled out the princess warrior bracelet and clipped it around one wrist just above the steel shackle.
Becky cried a little then. “Thank you, master,” she said through sniffles. “Becky loves it.”
Josh smiled and pulled his tired, overwhelmed slave to her feet. “I know,” he said.
He started to lead her away when he stopped. Becky looked up and saw her dad approaching. Behind, following him on a leash, was a naked girl who was blushing as she clung to his footsteps.
“Dad?” Becky said.
“Hey, pumpkin,” her father said. “See you got collared after all. Well, Josh, I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to take her in hand. I know you’ll take care of her.”
“Thank you, sir,” Josh said.
“Now I’m real glad I won Tiff here at the shooting gallery,” Becky’s dad said. “The house won’t seem so empty with my own slutgirl around, especially once I plant a few babies in this fertile womb.”
Tiff fidgeted in her bonds but smiled broadly at the idea of serving as her new master’s broodmare.
“Well, we’re still neighbors, so I guess I’ll see you kids around,” the older man said. “Come along, Tiff, I want to slaverape you a few more times tonight.”
Becky watched her dad lead away his shy slutgirl away and thought he’d finally found a way to move on. She was glad.
“Well, Becky, I’m pretty interested in slaveraping you again while the night’s still young, so let’s get going,” Josh said.
“Yes, master,” Becky said as her heart swelled with joy.
“And, Becky?”
“Yes, master?”
“Happy birthday.”