Tuesday, February 23, 2016


(Note from Thomas Lavalle: I first came across the femdom fiction writer cyber-named "Eosuchus" on Mark Remond's Worshipping Your Wife  blog. Sadly, Mark has lost touch with Eosuchus, but passed along to me one of his older stories, " I SOLD YOU TODAY," a two-parter set in an alternate future with state-sanctioned femdom marriages. Here is part one; this is the concluding part.)

Part Two of “I SOLD YOU TODAY”

“Let’s take a look at him,” said the deeper voice above his head. “You said you dropped his name, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, he hasn’t been anything except 'slave' for about a year now. I don’t really see why they need names, unless you have more than one, you know, like a stable.”

“You’re so right. I like to train them so I don’t have to say anything much, and they always know when I want something.”

‘That sounds ideal.”

“Slave, look up.”

For the first time he dared to raise his head. He felt his eyes widen involuntarily.

His new Mistress was indeed voluptuous, with big hips and a massive bust line. She was also very beautiful. Her skin was a light brown, her hair straight black and curled in an expensive looking coif. There was a slight African American cast to her features, which apart from the size and spacing of her eyes and the generous, full lips were delicate and small.
On top of that she was wearing, correction, she was crammed into, a tight-fitting suit with a faux leopard-skin pattern, and her heavy breasts were pressing out against the fabric. The skirt was cut to the knee, but tight, and her fishnet stockings ran down to ankle boots in the same fake leopard-skin with five-inch heels.

At the sight of her, he felt his penis harden inside the chastity tube. She was older than him, but she was earth-mother beautiful. Maybe being sold wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

“Okay, I want you stand up now.”

He sprang to his feet and stood at attention.

“You got something he can stand on?” said Mistress Brenda.

“Oh, sure. Slave, bring over the kitchen stool and stand on it for your new Mistress.”

When he was up on the stool with his hands on his head. Mistress Brenda peeled down his slave panties. His penis bobbed up and down, straining inside the chastity tube.

“You got the key, I hope.” Both women laughed. There had been a news story a month before about someone losing the key to her slave’s chastity device and how this had complicated her sale of him to another woman.

The key was produced, turned in the lock and then the tube was pulled free.

He felt his cock leap instantly to a throbbing, full-tilt erection.

“My… that does seem interesting.” Mistress Brenda took his penis in her hand and felt it carefully, testing its size and heft. He shivered and shook at her touch, which was firm and yet quite casual. Mistress Brenda was obviously familiar with slave cock. “Mmmm, impressive, I like that. Never did like men with weenies, you know what I’m saying?”

“Oh, sure, he’s a nice size there. But I never let him come, you know, that way…”

Mistress Brenda laughed again. A generous hearty laugh that filled the room. “Damned right, girl, slaves don’t come very often and when they do they got to pay for it.” Her hand had taken him by the balls now and she kneaded them between her fingers. “These babies are full, huh?”

“Oh, sure, I keep him as frustrated as possible. They’re so much more obedient when they’re desperate that way.”

“That’s how we rule them, no doubt about it.”

A quirt had appeared from nowhere in Mistress Brenda’s hand. Casually, but with force, she stropped it down on his ass. A line of fire shot through him and he almost fell off the stool. His erection lost a little of its intensity and with it went the chance that he might come accidentally.

“Down on your knees now!” Mistress Brenda said without even looking at him. His total obedience was simply expected. She was reading something off her Blackberry.

“Okay, we have to finalize the Divorce and then do the Marriage thing.”

He knelt, that hot line on his ass still smarting. The way she wielded that quirt was just a little scary. He wouldn’t want Mistress Brenda like, really mad at him. Ever.

“Here,” said Mistress Brenda. “Put this back on and lock it up good and give me the key.”

He crammed his semi-erect cock into the tube and replaced the lock. Mistress Brenda took the key on its chain and slipped it over her head. He watched the little brass key bounce down between her massive breasts. Control over his sexuality had been transferred from one woman to another. There were just the legal formalities and it would all be over.

Mistress Sarah had the State Female Led Marriage website up on her laptop.

“There’s a webcam connection. They say it’s all very easy.”

“Yeah, my friend Shanika took a new slave last month. I was her Bridesmistress. The whole thing took about five minutes.” Mistress Brenda sighed and patted her fabulous-looking ass.

“Then we took that boy to the bedroom and had him eat some ass. By the time we were done, he was about passed out. So we whupped on him a little. Shanika has a strong arm, so he came back to life pretty quick.”

Both women giggled.

“And then we did him with some different-sized strap-ons, got him used to being a slave bitch boi.”

By the sound of it, life as Mistress Brenda’s slave was going to be stretching his limits. Mistress Sarah had never been that interested in the strap-on thing and hadn’t done it to him in months.

“Okay, we’re on.” Mistress Sarah pointed to the screen.

A female judge, looking smart and just a little stern, appeared on the screen.

“Good evening, you have petitioned the court for a Divorce and New Marriage under the FLM Act, Section Eleven, is that correct?”

“Uh, yes, Ma’am,” said Mistress Sarah.

“Is the husband present?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Please put him on the webcam. He has signed Section Eleven, but he still has the right to ask for Clemency and a dissolution of Contract. Beyond that, you have full ownership rights, of course.”

“If he does that, we just put him out on the street, correct?”

“No, that would lead to a public nuisance. We don’t want men in panties wandering around the streets. Someone who’s been a house slave for ten years or more is pretty much helpless outdoors. So, he would have the choice of job training at the County Center, or being put up for auction, again under the FLM rules of Section Eleven. You would be responsible for transporting him to the County Center and booking him in there.”

“Okay.” Mistress Sarah turned to him. “You better get up here so the Judge can see you.”

He found himself standing there in front of the the little camera on the laptop, trembling a little, trying to concentrate, trying to think. He’d been a slave now for almost two years. He could barely remember what his previous life had been like, when he’d had a job, and driven a car and all those things that marked a free man from a Woman’s slave and property. If he spoke up, he could have his freedom again. He could get job training, he would get to live his own life, he could have a car again, he would be somebody, not a Woman’s property.

The judge was reading a file on a secondary screen.

“You are David Green, correct?”

His name. He hadn’t heard it in a long time now. It was a bit strange to be addressed by that name now. He’d been "slave," or "honey," or "baby," for so long, that was what he thought when he thought of himself, not “david.”

“Uhh, yeah.”

“You married Sarah Person on September 4th, 2019, correct?”


“And you signed Section Eleven of the Female Led Marriage Contract, correct?”


“Under the law she may divorce you and sell your contract to another woman. You have been introduced to that woman?”

“Uh, yes, Mistress.”

The judge looked up and stared at him through the webcam. She had a slight smile on her lips. “No, honey, I’m the Judge, not your new wife.”

“S-s-s-sorry,” he stammered and blushed. The judge was amused.

“Okay. Do you agree with these actions under Section Eleven? That Sarah Person will divorce you and sell your contract to Miss Brenda McKay?”

So this was the moment. This was where he had his last chance to stop this. Did he want to be “david” again? To be something more than “slave”? To be able to touch his own penis, to even, God, masturbate? How long had it been since he’d done that? Was he going to make a stand? Or accept his fate as a male slave and be taken away by Mistress Brenda to a new life under her heel?


“I,” he hesitated, saw Mistress Brenda frown, and instinctively flinched inside. To have Mistress Brenda frown in his direction terrified him.

“I accept,” he said.

The judge smiled again. “Good. I like to see a man who is happy under Section Eleven. I put my husband under contract some years ago after he lost his job. I have to say that we’re both very happy.”

Mistress Brenda, however, was still unhappy with him, he could tell, but for now she was eager to get on with the ceremony.

“For the Divorce proceedings, the wife just has to say on camera, ‘I divorce my husband, David Green,' and pass his contract to, and then you give the name of the lady who is purchasing David from you.”

“Got it,” said Mistress Sarah. She repeated the formula, and downloaded a copy of the official divorce document.

“You are keeping all of his property?” said the judge, who was putting in notes on another laptop by her side.


“He must have at least a pair of panties.”

“He does.”

“Okay. Now, for the Marriage Ceremony, Miss, uh--”

“McKay, Brenda McKay.”

“Good, Miss McKay, all you have to say is 'I, Brenda McKay, do take ownership of FLM Contract 11D38-473-736, and the person of David Green, to be my husband under the rules established in Section Eleven of the FLM Act. I have complied with all regulations and codes therein and I promise to keep said David Green in health and in legal compliance with all county laws, rules, regulations and codes.'”

Mistress Brenda repeated the words and, as she did, so he felt something shift under him, whether it was the ground or his life, he didn’t know. It was all happening so quickly, and he had no way of stopping it.

And, he didn’t want to, either.

“Now, David, you have to say, 'I accept Marriage to Brenda McKay under Section Eleven of the FLM Act and her ownership of Contract 11D38-473-736. I promise to serve her as a good husband, within the laws and regulations of the county.'”

He said the words and with each one he felt something stronger than iron binding around him.

“Good,” said the judge. “I declare you Wife and man, and may you be happy for as long as she wants. Go in peace.”

The ceremony was over. He had been sold. Brenda was actually cutting an electronic check for Mistress Sarah, while he knelt in the corner again.

“Okay, that’s it,” Sarah said. Both women turned back to him.

Mistress Brenda had produced a thick black leather collar from her bag.

“I believe in keeping a slave collared,” she said. “And leashed in public.”

“Oh, yeah, well I never went that far with him,” said Sarah.

“Slave, kneel up.”

He raised his head and Mistress Brenda set the collar around his neck and fastened it in place. A moment later she clipped a braided leather leash to it, then turned back to Mistress Sarah.

“Well, Ms. Person, thank you very much. I think that’s everything.”

She jerked on the leash. “Say your goodbyes to Mistress Sarah, slave.”

He bent down for the last time to kiss Mistress Sarah’s feet, and for a moment he remembered the first time, when he was still her boyfriend, and she was just introducing him to her style of Female Domination. That night, playing Femdom games, letting her spank him for the first time, had been so innocent, so sexually stimulating, it had opened the door to his own true submissive nature. At the time he’d had no idea where it would lead, or that within three months he would’ve married Sarah and become her official, contract slave under the Female Led Marriage Law.

If he’d known then what he knew now? Would he have run for his life? No. He knew in his heart of hearts that he would still have called her the next day, and kept calling, and begged to see her, begged to be allowed to worship her.

“Goodbye, slave,” she said, and Mistress Brenda tugged lightly on the leash and he knelt up. For a moment his eyes met Sarah’s. She smiled slightly and then she and Mistress Brenda were talking and he was being led to the door.

The door opened, Mistress Brenda walked out, her fabulous buttocks, which were quite a bit bigger than Sarah’s, doing incredible things inside that tight, faux leopard-skin skirt, and he followed her, barely hearing the door shut behind him.

Ahead was a bright yellow Mini station wagon. Mistress Brenda led him to the hatchback which was rising with a little beep as she pressed a button on her keyset.

Suddenly it came home to him that he was outdoors, wearing nothing but a pair of pink panties and a chastity system. He hadn’t been outside for more than a year, and he hadn’t worn anything except slave panties for about the same length of time. The blue sky seemed enormous. Distances were frightening for some reason, and he blushed deep red when a woman drove by and stared at him standing there in nothing but pink slave panties, slave collar and leash.

“Get in, lie down on the bed there.”

There was an extra large dog bed in the back of the Mini wagon. He got up onto it and lay down. Mistress Brenda clipped a special safety belt across his body. He saw “Slavertransit Belt” printed on it and felt his jaw drop. Wow, the market for this kind of thing must have boomed in recent years. Women really were taking over. For a moment she looked down at him, then she put her hand on his thigh and ran it up and inside to his crotch, taking him by the balls. Her grip was firm, but comfortable, as if she’d owned his balls for years and years. His cock was as hard as it could get inside the chastity system.

“You know you’re going to be punished the moment we get home, don’t you?”

He did. He nodded, frightened already by the thought.

“You hesitated there, when the judge asked you the question. That embarrassed me, and no slave ever embarrasses me twice, understood?”

“I’m so sorry, Mistress, I, I, it was all so sudden. I didn’t know…”

“Didn’t know what?”

“Uh, well, that Mistress was going to sell me, not until just an hour ago.”

His whole life had been turned upside down in less than an hour.

From massaging Sarah’s perfect rump and keeping the little house in Floral Park clean and perfect for his former girlfriend, who’d become his owner under the law, he’d been sold, he’d been handed over to another woman, a perfect stranger, that he had only met a few minutes ago. And then he’d been made to stand before that judge, with her knowing eyes and accept that he was just a piece of property to be bought and sold by women whenever they wanted. He’d been sold and he was going to be this other woman’s property now, and her slave, just like that. And he’d agreed, and he was incredibly aroused by Mistress Brenda’s body and her attitude, but he was also deeply afraid of her.

Mistress Brenda softened. She could see how frightened and
confused he was. The concern in her eyes melted his heart like wax under a blowtorch. She was such a beautiful lady. It would be a privilege to serve her. He resolved to be the best slave he could possibly be for her.

“I see, well, yeah, that could be a little hard. Okay, that will be taken into account, but you will still be punished. Just a spanking perhaps, and then you can show me how good you are at worshiping my ass.”

“Yes, Mistress, of course.”

She squeezed his balls, and patted his cheek, then shut the hatch door, went around to the front, got in and started the car. A moment later they were on their way driving into a whole new slavery for him, and as they went he saw in his mind’s eye, Mistress Brenda’s majestic behind, swaying in front of him, regal, gorgeous and destined to take him to a whole new understanding of Female Domination.

Copyright Permian Systems 2008


  1. I love these types of story's...maybe someday?
    The new slave tries to rise up to see the outside world passing by outside the car but the Slavetransit Belt holds firm.

    Outside Mistress Brenda see's the over weight road crew in their canvas panties cleaning the ditches. Over weight slaves are placed on road crews till their weight is acceptable to their Mistress's again.

  2. I know this comment is very late coming, but I just found this story. Eosuchus wrote stories for Christine Stevenson on a subscriber leist several years ago. Then he wrote a blog for a while, but I haven't seen anything from him in a couple of years. I found this while I was looking for a story of his that I think is called "Mrs. Wilson's Slave."

  3. addamms, yes, I, too, lost contact him about the time his blog vanished (with several storires). I had sent him copies of some of his earlier storiers that he had actually forgotten! He did mention writing for Christine (and David) Stevenson's subscriber list and site. If I ever come across "Mrs. Wilson's Slave" I will republish it here--and, of course, remove it if Eosuchus contacts me to do so. I hope he is okay! One of the best ever in this genre.