Personal Contact Conversion – White Slave Act of 2000

I meet John, the great white slave hunter.

Spellbook Slaves, staff meeting room, early morning

My name is Josh Hopkins. I was hired about a month ago as a pickup driver by Spellbook Slaves. I used to work for Hill’s Fine Meat, but I was let go do to a lack of sales right now. Not the only one they laid off. I’ve been working with Mistress Debby-Ann, who has been letting me “take charge” of most pickups. And it’s Debby-Ann, not just Debby, and NEVER Ann. She made that clear on day one. I am not sure why she is letting me be the point person on pickups, apart from it reduces her work load, which might be the reason right there.

Mr. West started the morning off with, Ah, sorry mistress, got to tell you that you have a difficult pickup to do.

Odd, that’s what Debby-Ann and I are supposed to do. Debby-Ann must have known what he was talking about, however.

Let me guess, John has a new girlfriend he’s tired of?

Mr. West nodded. Give the mistress a prize. He’s expecting you around 10:00 this morning.

Debby-Ann all but pouted. But I don’t really want…, oh never mind. What is it you say? ‘Good Training!’ Come on, Josh, we’re off to see the Westside Wizard.

In the van, I asked, OK, who is John and why is this a problem. Non-permissive capture or what?

Debby-Ann sighed, Oh, no, I’m sure his “girlfriend” knows she is converted, or will by the time we get there, and I don’t expect any running away issues.

OK, now I’m confused. Then what is the difficulty?

John thinks he’s a great white slave hunter, and I guess, in a way, he is. Assuming you like slightly dumpy brunettes, normally with untested sex skill scores. He’s a Three fifty wonder. That last bit I understood, that was the lowest amount we would pay for a slave. If they didn’t make it at least that far up the grading scale, with or without the appearance “bonus kicker” Spellbook’s don’t normally buy them. Debby-Ann went on, I know you like being in charge and all that, and it’s worked wonders and everything, but you don’t know what’s going on here, so I’m going to take point on this one. It’s not like we have any chance of losing her. Assuming he follows his usual form, that is. Tell you what, if the slave isn’t tied up, you take charge, otherwise, just let me deal. Oh, and you’re Mr. West’s brother-in-law, which is why you got your job. Don’t forget that. Oh. crap, you have your slaver worker’s license on you? He’s going to want to see it.

She stopped to grab her breath, allowing me to get a word or two in. OK, you’re in charge, I’m Mr. West’s brother-in-law, I have my license, anything else I should know?

She took a deep breath. Yeah, how much do you know about shibari? If you aren’t a freaking expert on it, bring in a double handful of zip ties, and make noises about the shearing strength of ballistic nylon vs. hemp rope. If you are a freaking expert, one, teach me, and two criticized the hell out of his knots.

I nodded my head, OK, handfuls of nylon it is. Let me use the internet to find out the numbers. Hmm, looks like 11,000 to 9,000 PSI for formed plastics, and let see, for 3/8th rope it’s 700 lbs for hemp and 4,000 for ballistic nylon/Kevlar. Working load is 20% of the shearing load, and a double bend knot means 20% of that, so we are looking at 30 lbs. max. With a good search engine finding the right web page, I can be a good enough expert in very little time, so snarking on his knots is in order.

Debby-Ann blinked. Why didn’t I ever think to use the laptop to look that crap up? Argh! While you got it open, what does it say about dyed poly? That’s what he uses if someone has ripped on his hemp rope recently.

Click, scroll…. It looks like it’s not much better, at 1,100, which means 44lb, working load. Formed plastic, for example my zip ties, don’t have the knot issue, so that gives them a working load of over two thousand two hundred pounds per square inch, assuming a 20% working load vs. shear strength ratio. I think I’ve got that issue covered.

About this time, we arrived at the address. We hopped out of the van and headed up to the double – wide trailer’s door, as I reached up to knock, I heard Debby-Ann say oh shit.

I turned around and said, What now?
You brought a Taser. Expect to have an argument about it.

Not a problem. You will note this is MY personal X26 Taser, not the M26 that Spellbook uses for those of us that aren’t blessed with a Taser 10. The X26 has not been declared sunset, unlike the M26 and its current state of the art, assuming you don’t want multi shot, which would be an X3 or Taser 10. Have you thought about using an XREP round in your shotgun? Same blunt force effect as a baton round, plus an electroshock effect that is the same as my X26. Yeah, I know my Taser. Speaking of shotguns, where is yours? You normally carry it for pickup “Just in Case” to use your terminology.

Want an argument of pump vs. semi auto in a non-permissive capture environment?

But bean bags don’t work in a semi auto.

You know that, I know that, but the people who write some role-playing games don’t know that and give a higher rate of fire to semi-autos. John plays one of those. Or at least has read the rules, I have a hard time seeing him in a gaming group.

Oh, one of those kinds of experts. I worked for one once.

Be nice. Mike used to write games before he got into slaving.

About this time, the door opened. After all this build up, I didn’t know what to expect. I damn sure didn’t expect a 5′ 6″ tall man in ragged jeans, a black tee-shirt and a bowler hat, holding a truck stop “bull whip”.

Bout time y’all got your asses here. I got you another one. I must be your best hunter, this here makes what 5? In less than 6 months. I got to be some sort of record for y’all. Wait a second, I ain’t seen you. Let me see your license! I want no irregularities in my record stopping me from getting my own. Not that the feds are going to give me one until I stop talking about Ultra-5.

I turned to get my license out of my back pocket and looked at Debby-Ann, who was doing that micro head shake thing people sometimes do to warn someone else off a subject. I handed John my license, which he held up to compare my face with the photo.

I should compare signatures, but Y’all are a team and I knows me Debby-Ann. We go way back. I was her first hunter, I was. Good ‘nough for me. Say, how did you get a job there? They told me they were in a hiring freeze do to that whole money market thing. That’s another thing that the Ultra-5 did, you know.

First time in almost 19 years as a slave shop employee that I’ve had to show my license to someone who wasn’t either from the state slave board or a law enforcement officer. I’m Mr. West’s brother-in-law. He broke the rules with the capital types for me. Kin folk and all. Blood is thicker than water and all. You know about that. God-damn it, he’s got me talking red neck. Damn it, I try so hard not to do that.

Hey, that’s a X26! Why aren’t you using a Taser 10? It’s got them micro preprocessor and has 10 shot capability.

Well, if I need 10 shots, something terrible has gone down.

Well, that’s not the case here. I’ve got her well tied in a classic shibari rig. Not going anywhere.

Great white slave hunter's catch of the day — Great white slave hunter’s catch of the day

I’ve browsed enough bondage porn to know that was not a classic rig. Not sure what it was, but it’s not a classic rig. Time to apply a put down…

Well, I’m not really an expert on shibari, but I do know that there is an order of magnitude difference between the shear strength between a formed Kevlar zip tie and any type of hemp or poly rope. And you don’t have the whole knot issue to deal with. If she were to somehow hook one of those strands and apply major amounts of torque to them, like by falling down, it would break at the knots. Better to use something that the carry load is greater than a normal female human weight at 3 Gs. That pole isn’t helping with the possible rope breaking issues.

Debby-Ann cleared her throat. I assume you have her form filled out? And have the proof of Personal Contact photos?

Oh, yeah, I does. Here it is, Missy. When is your Mr. West going to understand that a lady shouldn’t be doing this job and go ahead and hire me as a ‘prentes? Then the Feds would most likely overlook the complete Ultra-5 thing and issue me a real hunting permit.

Debby-Ann ran the form and used her phone to run the ASA app for grading the soon-to-be slave. Looks like this is your lucky day, she has a four fifty value wholesale. Want it transferred to your normal account?

Yea, I does.

Debby-Ann played with her phone. OK, she’s converted, and the money is there.

You don’t mind If I checks that before we transfer the product, do you?

Product? No one calls a slave a product. While I was untying the slave and restraining her with zip ties, I gave her a look over. She is, at best, a grade B. Based on how easy it was to get her loose, I don’t think John is any good as a bondage rigger. Meanwhile, he was doing something with his rather old computer and the web. Looks like he had a bank page and the public page read only status page from the state slave agency up.

OK, it seems to have gone through. The feds must not have a line trap on my line today. I faked them out by doing a proxy run today. Never find out about my Ultra-5 article I posted. Going’ bust open the whole shebang, it surely is. So, she straight to Hill’s like the others?

On hearing this, the slave started to look more than a little worried. Debby-Ann nodded, And I assume you are going to want to see that outbound receipt to be sure?

Of course. No irregularities on my accounts!

What the hell is he talking about? There is no requirement to see where a slave has been resold to, and I know, from personal experience, that Hill’s isn’t going to buy this slave. They get enough walk-in traffic for parts girls, and there is no way she’s going on a spit in 2025. Not grade A on either the appearance or meat scales, which is the type of slave that gets the spit nowadays.

Well, we will be going now. Debby-Ann said. Call us if you get another.

Will do, Missy, will do just that. I’m on the hunt even as we speak, got one lined up now.

Once we got the slave in the van, I turned to Debby-Ann, Straight to Hill’s? Are you freaking nuts? There is no freaking way they are going to take her. No offense, there…

Roslyn. Roslyn Mushrush, the slave quietly sobbed. Debby-Ann said, She’s not going to Hill’s Fine Meat, she’s going to Hill’s Cleaning. Don’t even think it’s the same family. Does show up on the paperwork, as just “Hill Inc.” I don’t think he’s ever seen any paperwork from Hill’s Fine Meat. Definitely not from us. Like every other slave, he’s ‘captured’ her profile fits their standing order with us, they don’t even care about her cleaning skills, they do their own training. We just made $650, even after taxes. That’s the only reason we deal with that nut job.

Hearing that she wasn’t going to be snuffed, Roslyn let out a sigh of relief and starting crying, Oh, thank you so much. I’ve seen them, they treat their girls nice. Better than he did, even, before he turned asshole and decided it was time to sell me. They treat their slaves like they are real people, not just like slave workers. That’s why my old company used them. Thank you so very much!

You have got to be kidding me – Classic

Spellbook Slaves Front Desk.

This is a “classic” story from April 2011, edited to fit current names. Tweaked for current technology.

It’s slow, and the warehouse and slave quarters need to be cleaned, so Vicky and I are manning the front desk while most of the staff are in the back cleaning, or supervising slaves working, whichever. Mike is off at the state slaver’s convention.

We had just bought a mother and daughter pair that were not “living up to their full potential”, whatever that means. I don’t make judgements on sellers or their reasons, I just pay for the slaves if they are selling, or charge them a fee if they want to keep the slaves. It’s the business.

After this transaction was over, a really sleazy looking guy, in a leather jacket and leather pants, walks in.

Sleazy guy, “Y’all take Personal Contact conversions, right?”

Vicky allowed that we, in fact, do so.

“Well, I’ve got a problem. I’ve been fucking so many chicks over the last month that I don’t know which one I can sell off. I’ve got my security camera for my ‘chamber of love’ that records to DVD. What I would like is for y’all to watch them, figure out which one I’ve done the dirty on at least 3 times, then go get them. If you can tell me which ones qualify, I can check my little black book for their names and addresses. At least all but the tall long-haired redhead, bitch wouldn’t even give me her name, much less her digits and addy, but I think she was a one-time thing anyway”.

Vicky and I looked at each other. I did my Vulcan eyebrow. Vicky turned back to the man. “Sure, we can do that. There is a 15 dollar an hour charge for that, payable in advance. How much time are we looking at?”

Sleazy drops the stack of disks on the counter. “Well, I’ve got 12 dual layer disks. The camera system is motion triggered, so that should be all fun time.”

Who the fuck is still recording to DVD-R? We don’t even have a standalone player anymore. And I think only one of the older computers has an optical drive, granted it’s a CD/DVD/Blu-ray combo drive, but I don’t think it has been used in at least a year.

Vicky looks at me. I do a fast Google. “12 full dual layer disks would be 48 hours, assuming normal compression. 96 hours if 2X, which is a high as you can go and get reliable playback on a stock DVD player or optical drive.” Google makes me an expert on anything, at least in the short term.

Sleazy rubs both of his brain cells together. “I think it’s the slow speed. I set it up for highest quality. Thought I could make some bucks in the amateur porn business. That went bust, seems you need model release forms for that to work.”

Yeah, that or use slaves, but I don’t think a sleazeball like this “man” can afford a slave, much less a couple or three.

“That would be seven twenty, then.”

“Do you take checks?”

Vicky and I together “No” Vicky adds “Cash or credit card only. No debit cards”.

Sleazy sleazes “Can’t do that right now. I know I’ve got at least one. Let me find her on the first disc, and I’ll get back to you so we can do this.”

A Change of Job – Classic

Hill’s Fine Meat’s Hiring Hall

This is a “Classic” WSA2000 Story, originally posted Mar. 2006, taken from Usenet Google Archive.

Author’s note: This story is set in late 2001, after the Alternate Meat Source act was passed, but before it was in common use.

I look over the help wanted ads in the Eastlake World. Find this

“Inspector and driver wanted. Must have an open mind. Call Hill’s at 555-1212”

Well, that looks promising. Given my current job is driving me crazy, might as well go by and see what this is all about. I give them a call and set up an interview.

On the day of the interview, I showed up at the office they directed me to. It is a hiring agency, not their location. A nice-looking blond takes my information and directs me to wait in interview room number one. After 5 minutes or so, a man wearing a nice casual suit comes in. He reviews my resume and application form, making a few marks here and there on the papers. After a minute or so of this, he looks up, “So, Josh, what did you think of the girl that you first met when you came in here? Would you like to cum in her mouth?”

What the hell? Well, I’ve got a job, it’s not like that if I don’t get this job it’s the end of the world, might as well see where this is going. “Sure, I mean, I’m a man. Even the gay guys like blow jobs.”

He nods and makes a mark on my application, then stands up and walks to the door, “Send her in…” he calls out. A few seconds later, the blond girl from the outer office walks in. The man in the suite says points at me and says to her ‘Blow him‘. She nods and drops to her knees in front of me. She opens my fly and starts to lick and suck on my dick.

While she is doing that, Mr. Suit starts asking me questions.

“Do you hunt or fish?”

I tell him I do. He hands me a stack of papers, and tells me to rate each woman shown on them from 1 to 10. While I was doing this, then blond was going to town on my dick. About halfway through the rating, I felt my balls tighten up, and I knew I was about to blast. She could tell as well and went all the way down on me and took it directly into her throat. Mr. Suit asked me, “Did you just cum in her mouth?” When I told him that I did, that’s when he dropped the bombshell on me. “The job you’re interviewing for is ‘Alternate Meat Source Inspector’. She is a slave, soon to be alternate meat. Do you think you could kill her?”

Well, damn. I had heard about the whole White Slave Act, plus the bit about alternate sources to avoid the whole mad cow thing, but didn’t think it through. I looked down at her and my dick started to get hard again, thinking about what he just said. “Yeah, I think I could, actually”. Mr. Suit made a note on my paperwork then said, “Well, finish up your ratings, then we will move on to the hands on part of your interview”.

My hands on part? Unlike what had happened so far? Whatever.

I finished grading the pictures and handed the stack of them back to Mr. Suit.

He rapidly looked over my assigned scores, then stood up, “It seems your ratings are in line with our standards. Let’s see how you do with actual slaves. Please follow me.” As he opened the door, a pair of beefy guys came in. “Take her to the Jessica station.” Mr. Suit told them. This had a rather major effect on the girl.

She basically started freaking out, as he led me down the hallway, I heard her scream “NO! I’m not supposed to go there! NO! LET ME GO! NO, PLEASE…”

After passing a couple of doors, then entered into one. There were 5 nude slaves standing against the wall. “Please rate these 5 from one to 10”

I looked at them “Seven, Eight, Six, Eight, Seven”.

Mr. Suit nodded, and made a notation on my form.

“OK, here, use this and rate how tight they are”, handing me a largish rubber dildo.

OK, whatever. I walked up to the first, told her to turn sideways and bend at the waist. I applied a bit of spit to the dildo, then pushed it up into her. Moved it back and forth a few times, then pulled it out. Went on to the next slave and repeated the process, however, I didn’t need to lube it up anymore. Did the same to the other 3.

“OK, number 2 seems the tightest, with 1 and 4 seeming like they were next. 3 and 5 are rather loose, with 5 being the loosest.”

Mr. Suit made some other notes on my forms. “OK, now check how firm their breasts are.”

OK, again, whatever, like I’m not going to want to cop a feel off several naked chicks. I grabbed each one’s tits in series. “In order of firmness: 2, 3, 4, 1, and 5”.

Mr. Suit made more marks. “OK, let’s move on to the final hands on test.”

Mr. Suit led me through a set of doors on the side of the room. They opened into a room all done in white tile. Even had a drain in the center of the floor. However, what I first noticed was the chick that had taken my forms and had sucked my dick during the early parts of the interview was strapped naked onto this machine. There was a 7-foot-long steel bar sticking out of her pussy, and there seemed to be a lot of odd gearing and strange bit of machines attached to this whole thing.

Mr. Suit walks over to her and puts his hand on the machine. “Josh, meet Karen Caraway, Karen was sold into slavery by her boyfriend about 6 months ago. The thing she is strapped to is called a “Jessica 3000”. It’s designed to make Karen here into a spit roast. The job you are interviewing for is “An Alternate Meat Evaluator”, which means you will be evaluating women for their potential as meat. Your tests so far have shown that your personal taste, so to speak, in women, matches up with our current grading guidelines. This is your final test.”

He hands me a remote control with a green, red, and black button on it.

“This controls the Jessica 3000. The green button will release Karen, and she will go back to being one of our administrative staff for at least 6 months. The red button will trigger a blade at her throat, cutting it, then start the gutting and impalement cycle after she has died. The black button will gut her and impale her alive. Her fate is up to you.”

I looked down at Karen. She looked back up at me, silently. I remembered her lips and tongue on my dick, and felt myself getting harder (it’s not like I haven’t been hard for the last half hour as it is). I looked down at the remote, I looked back at her, then at the remote, and finally at Mr. Suit. “What about the girls that I just graded?”

“They will be processed this afternoon. Karen is the only optional one” I nodded, and looked down at the remote. Without much thought, my thumb fell on the black button. I hesitated for a second or two, then pushed it.

The machine sprang to life. The poll, or spit I guess, started to push its way into her. Blood started dripping out of her pussy. The machine moved the spit at about a foot a second or so, so after 5 or 6 seconds, blood started to come out of her mouth, followed by the steel rod erupting from between her lips. It was like a perverse reverse blow job. From underneath her, I heard a motor start up and what sounded like a buzz saw spinning.

“That’s the gutting system” Mr. Suit announced. “We are having some technical difficulties with it right now, but in general, it removes the upper and lower intestinal track, plus the liver and most of the other internal organs. It’s still not working 100%. We’ve got some people working on fixing it now. Oh, when can you start?”

That was 4 years ago. I don’t know how many women I have graded in this job, it seems like thousands. Most of them don’t end up like Karen did, but that’s something I never forget, when I say a woman is “Grade A, with the Live Roaster Endorsement”, I remember Karen on that machine. And my dick gets a little harder.

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. – Classic

Eastlake Southside Business

This is a recent “Classic” story from 2018. It fits with current canon.

OK, Bill, I think that about sums up our office spending plan. I’ll send Caroline in so you can implement stage one.

Bill? Ted just sent me in here, says, “Time for my daily throating”, but he had to leave for a meeting with a client, so it would be just you. I’m fine with that.

Right, here, let me get where you can get to my cock. Ah, yeah, that’s the thing. Oh. yeah. Do you want to know something? This critical. I want you to know that this is the third time in the last 21 days that you, oh, wait… Oh, God, you are good with that tongue. Now swallow and listen… Any way, like I was saying, this is the third blowjob you have given me without Ted being here. That makes me a person of personal contact for you.

That can’t be right, we only have sex here in the office and public sex doesn’t count, I know I looked it up.

OK then, wave to the public… Oh, dear, no public, but there is that camera over there. You have had private consensual sex with me 3 times in the last month, and I have the proof. The fact that we have also had public sex in the same room at different times isn’t relevant.

So what does that mean, you are going to sell me into slavery?

No, not exactly, we are converting you to a slave, but we are keeping you on as secretary and sex toy, but here is the important part, we are cutting your salary to zero. You will be living with Ted, mainly because Margie doesn’t want to give head anymore, so you will be replacing here in that role. Of course, what Margie doesn’t know is that Ted knows about Margie’s and my affair, and that I intend to convert her by the end of the week. Thinking about selling her to a throat fuck bar, just because. Now are we going to have to do this the hard way, or will you agree to do it the easy way? The hard way might involve a taser or two, and will definitely involve bondage.

And the “easy way”?

You call up Spellbook Slaves, explain the situation to them, and deal with it like it is any other office task.