Dolcett Enterprises -
Sample "Play" Scene

Introduction to the Dolcett Enterprise
and "Club X" proposition

THIS IS NOT A SNUFF SITE, but a professional, private role-playing and "scene" club for those interested in exploring the wilder themes of sexual submission/slavery in the extreme, bondage, domination and sado-masochism (BDSM) in a unique and safe fashion. The club will be seeking subscriptions, support and more to establish the most sophisticated sensual and sexual entertainment and participation centres in the world.

To give you a clear understanding of our "Dolcett play" I have prepared a couple of stories, with a little help from the original illustrations.


Dancing Competition - PT.2
by Hallin Dolcett

A good girl?  Mona thought, the idea sent a thrill through her as she swallowed everything her daddy spent into her deep eager throat.  Her mother hugged her close.

"Good bitch, that's right," she encouraged Mona, "keep your throat open and wait until your Master is finished with your. Suck him dry and clean, he doesn't want to see a single drop." Her hand brushed Mona's crotch, looking up as her husband.  "Master this bitch is so hot and wet!"

Mona's father gently caressed her head.  "Good bitch, keep it in until it's hard again."

Faithful and obedient Mona used her mouth to caress and massage her daddy's cock, probing, exploring  while she breathed in the scent of his Superior masculinity through her nose.

Keeping her arms down behind her back she focused on her task, while her mother stroked, teased and pleasured her body and spoke guidance and encouragement in her ear.

"You're a good little bitch Mona, you'll be the best in the show when we dance for our Masters."  Mona felt herself dripping down her leg, then her mother stroked the wetness away, licking her fingers clean of Mona's juices.  "You're so delicious Mona, you don't know how proud I am that you've become such a good bitch so quickly."  Mona trembled with delight and worked harder on her daddy's cock.

It wasn't long before her daddy was proudly penetrating her throat again, only this time he pulled out as soon as he reached fullness.

"Let's prepare the bitch for the Dance."  He said looking down with loving eyes.  "You'll be a fine Dancer, but you need to be cleaned up for everyone to enjoy."

.................

A hand under her chin Doctor Preston raised Mona to her feet, the other bitch, Anne, rising by her side.  The other girl, who'd hung on her daddy's arm all this time, gazed silently at Mona as her mum took her arm and led Mona along the side of the room to a small table.  Daddy and the girl followed, arriving as her mum positioned Mona down on her back.

It was a small table, only enough to support her shoulders to hips.  The reason became obvious as her daddy stood at one end and gentle spread Mona's legs wide.

"A fine young bush, but it has to go."  His hand stroked across her cunt. 

Meanwhile her mum stood at Mona's head, her hands resting on Mona's shoulders, clearly telling Mona to lie back and accept daddy's attentions.

A jolt sent an electric thrill through her as her daddy pinched Mona's clit.  "You'll never wear a bush again to hide your pretty meat."  Mona's heart raced with the thought, to be bare and to be, liked!  Her meat, her cunt meat, she thought, what an unusually way to describe it.  But her thoughts taken away at her father's next instruction.

"Lie back and lick hard," her mum was already pressing Mona's head back and stepping forward to push her cunt onto Mona's lips.  "You won't stop licking until I tell you."

Yes daddy, Mona thought, her tongue lashing out to caress her mum's warm moist flesh.

While this began the other girl had been playing with Mona's breasts and stroking her belly.  Now she held one of Mona's hands up against her own smooth cunt, another warm and moist receptacle.  Taking Mona's hand and fingers the girl used them inside and around her cunt, educating Mona in the pleasure of fingering a cunt.

The electric buzz of a shaver hummed and rubbed against Mona's own cunt, sending waves of pleasure through her. She arched her back at the thrill and stretched her legs wider, pushing herself onto her daddy's pressure.

"Soon enough cunt!"  Her daddy laughed, slapping a hand down on the exposed sex.

Mona couldn't reply to anything her daddy was doing to her, her mum's own cunt was nearly choking her with the pressure grinding down on her mouth. She could feel her daddy stop his work and caress her newly exposed folds of flesh.

"Now," Mona heard him say, "let's crack this virgin open."  Before she could realise what he meant Mona felt her daddy pressing himself close, the weight and heat of his body and the hard, deep penetration of his long cock was tearing into her sending her bucking wildly into orgasm.  As she came Mona felt the firm grip of the other girl reassuring her and clutching her hand on the girl's own cunt, and the added grip of her mums thighs on her head.

Mona was a piece of sex meat, giving and receiving pleasure with no thought of her own, meat to be taken and used, and to thrill at every sensation.  She bucked, gasped and stretched as every pleasure and pressure felt throughout her body from end to end, even her toes curling in the air at her reaction.

Mona felt her daddy's hands holding her waist as he spoke again.  "Lisa, you switch with Ann."

Lisa, Mona thought as she gasped for air as her mum's withdrawal, so that's the girl's name?  It was so, as the other two bitches switched places.

Her daddy hadn't withdrawn as the girl, Lisa, laid her cunt on Mona's mouth.  Mona began licking immediately as the girl bent down, pressed firmly by her daddy, onto Mona's own clit.

With her daddy inside and Lisa working on the outside, with Mona's own mouth working Lisa and her mum using one of Mona's free hands for further pleasure the four of them formed a single living feast of flesh, and Mona was the perfect, eager and vigorous centrepiece.

It was another twenty minutes before Mona was released.  Lisa had taken and give her pleasures, her daddy had remained a constant pressure within and her mum had held her close, and when Mona was lifted upright from the table there was a circle of men and women grinning at her widely exposed legs and glazed eyes.

She tried to close her legs but her daddy stopped her.  "No bitch, let them inspect you, they'll be using you in the future so you never conceal yourself from their eyes."

Mona nodded.  "Yes daddy."

Her daddy turned to her mum.  "It's time for the dance, you take her up on the stage."

"Yes Master."

.................

Mona's mum took her hand and led her through the crowd that was slowly moving towards one end of the room.  As they walked Mona felt hands touching, pinching and squeezing up her body.  As she'd learnt, she didn't react, she was a piece of fuckmeat.

What was the dance?  She thought.  Mona knew she could dance well, she'd enjoyed a few nights out with friends at local clubs, but she suspected that this would be a different kind of dance, something sexier, something only for women? 

They'd arrived at the end of the room and the steps leading up to an unusual stage, where other women and girls were already standing and waiting.  And each woman was standing under a hangman's noose, and they were all in shackles.

Mona gasped.  "Mum?"  She queried, but her mum was already tugging her arm to lead her up the steps.  Her heart raced fast as each step took her above the heads of the crowd, and she felt more exposed than she'd ever been that night.

"Mum?"  She asked again, as another woman took her mum's wrists and clapped the shackles on them.

"Honey," her mum smiled at her, as the woman took Mona's own unresisting wrists and clipped the steel on them.   "This is how we dance for our owners."  she stepped towards the line of nooses.  "Come on, I'll stand beside you this time."

"But, I don't understand?"  Mona felt the woman push her from behind to follow her mum to the front of the stage.  She felt a creak of the stage under her feet.  Trapdoors she thought, looking closely, yes!

"You take this one next to me."  Mona's mum indicated the two nooses standing under one, its weighty rope brushing against her shoulder.

Mona complied and stood under the other still looking for an explanation and more women joined them.  Her mum explained.

"We're the best of the best meat and every few months the Club organise this dance to test us.  We've all got to dance for our owners to show how healthy we are and the winners get to be rewarded with babies, or to be sold to other Masters."

"Dance, but how," Mona's thoughts raced, her heart racing faster, and strangely, her excitement flowed through her, "winners!?"

Her mum smiled.  "Of course, you don't think I survived this long without being prime meat do you? We all dance and the longer you dance the fitter you are.  It really is survival of the fittest."

"Dance, but how?"

Her mum raised her hands up.  "You grip the rope and hang on for as long as you can, the longer you stay up the better, the dance stops when the last girl drops."

"But what happens if I can't hold on?"

Her mum smiled at her.  "I know you can do it, you're a healthy young girl, and your my daughter."

"But, yes, but what  if I can't?"

"Then you drop honey, and if you can't last long enough for the last girl to drop you'll die."

"Die!"  Mona was so shocked by that thought that she didn't notice the stage woman behind her dropping the noose around her neck and tightening it around her throat.  A few more adjustments and she felt the rope raised until all the slack had been taken up.

"Of course honey," her mum smiled, "it is survival of the fittest and the rest die.  That's how we make a better world for our Masters.  We," she said proudly, as the noose was adjusted around her neck, "are the best breeding stock in the world."

Mona was dizzy with it all, she couldn't take it in.

"Don't worry so much," her mum reassured her, "I've seen you at gym class and dancing around the house, you'll do just fine, and afterwards we can enjoy the banquet."

"Banquet?"   Mona couldn't believe her mum was so casual about this and more interested in eating.

"Oh yes," her mum nodded, "all the girls who loose and die become the feast, after all we are fuck meat."  She smiled with the wonderful, confident radiance Mona had known all her life.  "Now get a grip."  She raised her hands to grip the rope over her head.

Mona did the same, not really certain they'd really go through with it, no, they couldn't, it's just a stunt, but the stage woman was now announcing the dance to the audience and Mona couldn't take her eyes off the audience or keep her mind off the very, very conscious thought that she was now standing nude with her arms raised and totally exposed in front of so many men and women, with her mum standing right next to her and her daddy standing at her feet looking up at both of them with pride, and a huge erection.

"Let the dance begin," the stage woman announced, "now!"  And the floor dropped from Mona's feet.

.................

Mona had just enough time to react and grip the rope tightly before the wooden stage, all the trapdoors, dropped away. 

Suddenly she was flailing in the air, her feet kicking around for any kind of support as her hands gripped the rope tightly over her head.

It was difficult to make the grip, the shackles on her wrists and the position of the rope behind her head made it difficult to reach, causing her to arch her back and stretch as far as possible.

That was when she realised what an exposed position she was in.  Her body was stretched taut, breasts raised, cunt thrust out, back arched and her legs flailing wide open - there was nothing concealing or modest about her full, exposed nakedness, and, she guessed, nakedness of all the other women on the stage.

The rope was still tight around her throat but she felt her first grip slipping as her arms began to feel the strain. 

Looking down briefly she could see her daddy grinning up proudly at her, his eyes roaming up and down her full length, while one hand gripped and pressed Lisa's head, as she was now kneeling, down on his cock.  Somehow that made it intensely arousing and she felt the warmth of her sex flowing through her and her juices trickle down her leg.

She tried to look around at her mum, but her arms obstructed her view, only the audience, their cheers, their intense attention.  Inspecting me, she realised, they're weighing me up!

She was strangely calm, distracted by her discovery to think about the rope for a moment.  The only thought was the sight of the men pointing her out, commenting on her, exchanging words. A couple of men were talking to her father as his cock thrust into Lisa's throat, he was nodding at their words.  I wonder what they're saying, Mona thought?

.................

Her fingers were weakening as she heard a cheer in the crowd further along the stage.  A girl must have dropped she thought.  That's good, maybe I am stronger, maybe I will survive.  But to be meat?  Somehow it sent a tremble through her body, her fingers slipped, already weakened with the strain of gripping the rope the though had distracted her.

She tried to grip tighter but she had little strength left.  To be meat?  Was that a tremble of terror, or, she couldn't believe herself, a thrill?  She felt her pussy relaxing, yearning, exposed, thrust out, waving its temptation to all the men in the audience - come, look see the pretty young wet cunt ready for you boys, come for a taste!

The pain in her hands and arms, the fire of the strain was becoming too much.  Another cheer in the audience, another girl had dropped.  Mona's breath came with difficulty, gasping for air, the rope tight on her throat, the burn of gripping it becoming a fire she couldn't tolerate anymore.  But she did, another minute, more seconds ticking by, her body exposed, aroused to the height of tension and readiness she'd never felt, an excitement she'd never imagined before in her life.

The fire in her loins competed with that in her arms, she ached to be fucked, to have that need met, it distracted her, helped keep her mind off the fire in her arms, but even that wasn't enough, as her fingers became weaker and weaker. 

The weight of her body tore at her arms, her hands, her fingers. She tried to improve her grip, but mistake, she slipped!  Her arms fell, her body dropped a few inches, the rope tightened around her throat, she felt the grip of the rope on her as she flailed harder to reach up and regain the rope while the crowd cheered.

She couldn't reach it, the drop had taken it beyond her weakened arms!  She struggled to reach higher, arching her back, her legs flailing wildly to the crowd's encouragement.  She tried thrusting up but the weight and jolts of her body on the rope was tightening its grip on her throat as she tried to grasp for air and found she couldn't!

A red mist was overcoming her, her breath failing, her heart pounding, the noise of the crowd, the tightening of the rope, everything began to spin around and around.

She made one last weakened attempt to reach the rope above her head, one final futile jerk and she failed as unconsciousness swept here away.

.................

"Wake up bitch!"  The voice commanded with a sting as smelling salts jerked her awake.

Mona found herself lying on the stage, her wrists still shackled, the noose being pulled unceremoniously off her head as two naked women helped her, coughing and choking, to her feet.

In a daze she looked around, taking in the scene, noticing two girls being carried off the far end of the stage a gap in the crowd for their passage.

"Mum!?"  She looked aside, and grinned.  Her mum was being treated the same way as her, salts and a jerk as she snapped awake, her eyes turning to meet Mona's with a grin on her lips.

"Wonderful!  I knew you'd survive!"  She turned to look at the far end of the stage.  "How many?"  She asked one of the slaves helping her up.

"Two for tonight, after the auctions."  The girl answered briskly, then moved on to help the next girl.

"Auctions!"  Anne was surprised. Looking first down at her husband below her then turning to Mona.  "We're all to be auctioned!"

"What does that mean?"  After the last experience Mona was filled with dread, what could it mean?  She looked for guidance to her mum, then turned to her father, who had an arm around Lisa, stroking the girl's titties.  But her father was ignoring the stage, talking instead to the two men Mona had seen earlier, one glanced up at her, looking her up and down, weighing her up.

"It means," her mum answered, "that we're all going to be sold off."

"Sold!?  But, daddy?"

Anne stepped closer to Mona, taking her hands in her own shackled ones.  "Mona honey, he's not your daddy any more, he's your owner and you're his property, just like me.  A Master has every right to dispose of his property in any way he desires, if he wants to sell us tonight then that's his right."

"Sell us, but what will happen?"

"Shush, you'll see, we've all danced and survived - oh, here come our numbers." Her mum indicated the two Club slavegirls working along the line of girls.  Mona couldn't be sure what was happening, so briskly did they arrive at her Mum.

Taking Anne's left titty one slave tugged the nipple out hard with one hand and stabbed a needle through it with the other.  The needle ended in a small rosette with a large number "8" on it.  Anne yelped once as the needle penetrated then stepped back for the two slaves to seize Mona.

"Yow!"  She yelped as Number "9" was pinned on to her left titty. "That hurts!"

"So?"  The slave shrugged and moved on to the next girl.

Mona turned to her mum appeal in her eyes, and noticed the grin on her mum's lips.

"What is it?" 

"You honey, it hurt didn't it?"

"Yes!"

"Well according to your nips it looks like you loved it!"  Her mum nodded at Mona's chest.

Mona looked down, it was true, the pain was, well, hurting, but, combined with everything else that had happened to her, her nudity, her hanging, her first fucking, all the time she'd spent on stage, the pain and the way she was, just manhandled by the two slaves, was, somehow, thrilling.    Her mind was in a state she'd never experienced, heightened even more by the presence of her mum standing equally abused in front of her.

Crack!  A whip lashed the line of girls on stage.

"Right bitches, line up and face your future Owners!" One of the Club slaves cracked the whip on a slower girl, who yelped and jumped into position.  Mona hadn't needed it, she just followed her mum's lead.

Auctioned, she thought, looking curiously at the crowd in front of her, looking up at her body, assessing her, for what?

"Number One," the Stage slave announced.  "Aged twenty-nine, seven children off two pregnancies, all healthy, athletic body profile, never lost a Dance Competition, no medical conditions, IQ measured at one ninety, owner selling due to business failure.  No House reserve.  What am I bid?"

And so it began, one at a time the girls were called out, no longer named, but numbered, no longer people, but property. One girl, number six, collapsed in tears to be hauled off stage when she realized she'd been donated to the Club feast by a wealthy member of the Club.

"Number Eight," her mum!  Mona's attention jerked up.  "Aged forty-two, nine children from single pregnancies, all healthy, average healthy body, above average Dance Competitor, no medical conditions, IQ measured average, owner selling to make way for younger breeder.  There's a House reserve of one thousand.  What am I bid?"

Mona had learnt that the House reserve meant the Club itself would bid for the property to compensate owners on girls likely to fetch lower prices. It also meant that every girl was guaranteed to be sold - they would never be returning to their owners. And no reserve meant that a girl was thought good enough she didn't need that final guarantee of sale.

The bids began to come in, first one hand raised, a man, another, then a woman, a Mistress of Slaves her mum told Mona, another bid.  Already the bids had gone over a thousand, then two, then three, five, seven. 

"Sold!"  Bang!  The hammer came down on the final bid the Mistress of Slave.

"Bye honey!" Her mum called as she was lead away, a collar snapped around her neck and down the steps.

"Number Nine!"  Mona's number was called out and her heart leapt.

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Dolcett Snuff Dancing Competition for the testing of slavegirl obedience.