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Ye Olde Water Faire – 02 The Carousel

WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2020 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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Slave puta ran ahead of us to the Carousel. When we got there, Master went up to Herr Dunkler and handed him an envelope. The Dark Lord– that’s what Dunklermeister, his full name, means– The Dark Lord held it in his hand for a moment and then said with a smile. “I know that you aren’t planning on buying any of my major offerings this year. Why don’t I allow your slave to ride on the Carousel and the Ferris Wheel for free this year and we will call it even?”

“That is very generous of you,” Master said as he put the envelope back in his pocket. I hadn’t realized that the Master or Mistress had to pay for their slaves to “ride” Herr Dunkler’s machines. I would love to know how much it was, but that isn’t something a slave asks her Master.

Herr Dunkler’s smile left his face for a moment, then he looked down at me, smiled again, and said, “I’m just glad that the little glitch in my new Dolphins didn’t damage your property.”

Somehow his smile didn’t look very friendly. I tried not to show irritation that he called me “property.” I guess that’s what I am, but I would rather he call me “slave.” At least a slave is still human. Besides, property can’t decide it no longer wants to be owned… not that I would ever do that, but I do have a safe word and an escape word. If Master does something that I can’t handle I just have to say “Halloween,” and we stop and talk about it. If Master ever turns evil or something like that, or I grow weary of the slave life, all I have to do is say “Jack-o’-lantern” and technically, I am no longer his slave. I’m not sure what I would do if he didn’t honor my escape word, but there are numbers I can call for help if I ever need it.

The carousel is a HUGE machine. The top of it looks like a regular merry-go-round carousel except it is about three stories in the air. And instead of horses hanging down, there are cables with naked slaves on them. Some of the slaves are men, some are women, and some are a little hard to tell. Mistress Diana’s slave useless was already standing on the ground attached to a cable. She calls it useless because it was once a he, but all the male equipment is gone. So he doesn’t have a prick or balls or tits or cunt. According to Mistress Diana, who runs a rather specialized house of entertainment, “He is just useless.”

Actually that isn’t true. Some of Mistress Diana’s customers– male or female– pay extra to fuck a true eunuch. Maybe he gets off being called useless… if it is possible for a eunuch to get off.

We walked around the Carousel until we found puta. She, like the other eight slaves, was standing between two big steel tanks. The fat twins in the overly-tight Speedos were strapping her into the strange restraint. The top portion looked like an ordinary spreader-suspension bar. Her hands were placed in long cloth restraint cuffs that came about half-way up… down… to her elbows.

Then her ankles were strapped to a big, square spreader bar that looked like a 4X4 fence post except it was made of metal. She was standing on top of it and her feet were in these thick cloth boot sort of restraints that held her tight to the metal bar.

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