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.


HEN NIGHT IN FUNLAND
by Hallin Dolcett

As the world of Dolcett becomes more professional the demands for livestock are bound to increase and here at Dolcett Enterprises we are dedicated to bringing you the best in select and bulk shipments of prime British livestock, breeding stock, and meat for your table.

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

The phone rang in the small plain office on the top floor of the back street rented house on the outskirts of the northern British town of Blackpool, the premier working class seaside entertainment resort in the country and known to its few permanent citizens as Funland.

The young girl who answered it wore only an iron collar welded around her throat and a small gold disc attached to one of her labia, she sat pertly upright under the continuous watch of her Master's remote cameras, knees spread wide to exhibit herself to his view.

Primly answering the phone she held a pen poised over a pad of preprinted order forms.  "Good morning," her voice was husky and inviting of temptations and delights, "Pink Pussy Cabs, I'm Charlie, wanna ride?"

The female voice over the phone, giggled.  "Yeah, dead right, you do limos and minibuses for hen nights out to Blackpool right?"

"Yep, shall I make a booking for you?"

"Yes," the girl at the other end giggled, the sound of others in the background shouting her on.  "We need," she raised her voice over the vocal interference, "room for twenty!?"

Charlie smiled as she ticked a couple of boxes on the form. "No problem, we've got just the coach for you.  Can you give me all your details and when you need us to pick you up?"

Several minutes later Charlie replaced the phone and daintily stood up with the fresh order torn from the pad.

Crossing the room she stood before the large poster board and mused at the other order forms pinned up there.  Each was arrayed below one of several images of a limousine, a minibus or a coach.  She added the new order to the other booking forms below the coach.

"Hmmm," she mused, "looks like the busiest bank holiday weekend we'll ever have."  She grinned, her heart racing in excitement.  A close inspection would have seen the glitter of hot moisture between her legs.


Friday night was hen night.  The day, usually beginning around noon, when working girls in factories, offices and local colleges dressed down, bought ample supplies of drink and condoms and set out to out-slut each other in a non-stop orgy of exhibitionism and rampant grab-all-you-can sex, and Funland was their prime showground.

Throughout the region hired cabs and minibuses would be picking up their parties and taking them for a night or a full weekend of clubbing, pub crawls and sex, sex, sex!!

Pink Pussy Cabs had appeared on the scene only recently, but had the reputation of being owned and operated entirely by women, and therefore seen as "safe".  It was also offering a discounted hire rate for the extended bank holiday weekend and seemed to have a huge fleet of cabs to handle all the orders they'd taken in that Friday, at least that's what the police surmised after the events that followed that day.


The girl who's booked the final coach party for Pink Pussy's Special Weekend was Nancy Sinita Yashmak, an exquisitely beautiful and totally slutty Manchester girl of Asian descent and Manchester upbringing, which meant a mixture of good family, good education, hard-edged female liberation and explosive sexual rebellion, and she could drink like a fish.

Nancy's party were celebrating her nineteenth birthday party and she'd rounded up every girlfriend and their friends she could to share the cost of the coach hire, and save their money for the clubs they planned to tour that weekend.

Their coach, a non-discreet shade of violent pink, arrived exactly on time at 2pm at the local supermarket car park they'd all agreed as their rendezvous.  Piling onboard the girls gasped and giggled at the luxurious fittings.  Lounging seats, a free minibar at the rear, with extensive toilet facilities, and full air conditioning with widescreen video entertainment, where a soft porn tape was already playing.

The women driver looked a little harried, hair slightly untidy, but smiled apologetically.  "Sorry girls, traffic holdup on the M56."

"No probs." Nancy said, already a little tipsy, "let's get this party rolling!" Her girlfriends all cheered.

The driver grinned, slammed the door tight shut, ushered the girls into the rear, sliding the privacy partition closed to keep the noise of the party down and launched the coach into its journey.


Watching the girls in the back the driver allowed them half an hour to settle down, help themselves to the minibar and relax with the soft porn, which they quickly changed to some hard core bestiality, squealing and screaming at the show.

With the air conditioning set to a low whisper the driver slid a hidden control forward, and began counting.  The isolated air conditioning in her own cab kept her free of the invisible vapours in the rear, but the heat, the drink and the special mist now added to the air had its effect and the twenty young women were soon fast asleep.

At the next junction the coach turned off.  Ignoring the direct signposts to Blackpool it turned down a longer country road, picking up speed as it did so, the driver was on a tight schedule.


The road turned into a small industrial estate and a distant abandoned-seeming former retail warehouse.

Observed in advance the coach's approach was anticipated and the doors to the warehouse slid quickly open as it raced through the opening and skidded to a halt.

The scene inside the warehouse was frantic.  The coach had arrived at the end of the line of other Pink Pussy vehicles, just as one at the far end rolled out a distant door.

Even as she'd entered the warehouse the driver had thrown the coach's door open and immediately two male gimps, naked except for their leather hoods and their tight crotch chastity restraints, had raced in to snatch the first of the girls up from the floor.

Without turning the engine off or stopping, the driver kept the coach rolling slowly forward as each girl was hauled unceremoniously off and dropped onto the floor.  A naked female slave squeezed quickly between the hard labouring gimps and tidied the minibar, removing all traces of the girls' presence, throwing handbags, coats, loose litter out through the rear door.  She switched the video back to soft porn, gave the surfaces a clean wipe of a damp cloth then nodded briskly to the driver.  "Clean!"

The gimps had removed the last girl and the coach was close to the exit door.  A minibus had already arrived behind with a smaller load of girls. With a final nod the driver gunned the coach and raced back out into the late afternoon, she had three more pick-ups before midnight.


The large warehouse wasn't as chaotic as it seems, careful planning and preparation, the recruitment and breaking of two dozen slavegirls and half a dozen gimps ensured an eager workforce.

The tumbled mass of unconscious girls was already being rearranged as the last of the current batch of vehicles left.  The Master knew they'd have about two hours to deal with this livestock before the next round of deliveries.

While the gimps had unloaded the girls, a work gang of slavegirls had begun stripping them.  Industrial electric scissors and saws were buzzing through skirts, belts, bras, bracelets, etc, as all the girls were stripped down to their true future - naked flesh.

As the girls were stripped the Master walked along the line-up and made the first of the triage selections: into the meat for harvesting, breeding and slave auction categories.

Another group of slavegirls were hosing and scrubbing some of the girls selected by their Master as Special Selection.  After this the Master passed his final judgments and picked out the new additions to his own private livestock herd.  The rest would be disposed of in the next few days.

Of course some girls didn't get as much of a knockout as the rest, but still semi-conscious they were watched with amusement by the Master as they saw and reacted with terror and screams to their future before they were stunned to sleep along with the rest.

As the livestock was stripped and sorted into their future destinies, the gimps hastened again to their work and were soon loading each girl onto small wooden pallets on wheels.  Strapping each girl down by ankle, wrist and throat, gagging each, the livestock were now portable and were quickly spun across the huge floor by any free hand into their three sorted groups for loading onto the shipment lorries waiting at the far end of the warehouse.

The final stage of the processing of the livestock was to strip any valuables from the possessions, purses were emptied of cash, jewels were thrown into a box and the rest bagged for future incineration.

There would be no traces found here of the activities that were now being carried out.


The shipment lorries were huge open sided trailers and the pallets holding each girl were soon boxed up with side walls to allow several to be stacked atop each other and lifted by fork-lift truck onto the trailers.

As the drugs were beginning to wear off it was entertaining for the Master, along with one slave filming the events, to see girls waking to their fate as they were lifted and loaded, screaming, into the trailer. Soon their sounds were muffled by the mass of pallets staking high on the trailers.

The Master was mulling over one of the Select girls, watching her awake on her pallet and her eyes widen in realisation, when a slavegirl ran up to him, all the slave ran, they were trained to work not idle their time away.

"Master!"

"Hmm?"  He turned his back on the pallet as another slave came up and installed the girl's new slave tag, ignoring the girls gagged screams and the jerks of her body as she was pierced.

"The next cabs are coming!"  The slave grinned excitement pouring out of her body, nipple erect, sex moist, eyes gleaming.

Master slapped her flank. "Go!"

She raced away and he followed at a stroll, observing everything, noting all.


There were eight Pink Pussy "cabs" and the typical party was about six girls.  Only the coach was the exception in bringing large groups en masse.  Nancy's party had been its second trip and now came the much-anticipated jackpot of the night - the Manchester Allstars Cheerleaders.

Twenty-seven of the healthiest, fittest young women aged nineteen to twenty-five. Master could barely contain himself as the gimps unloaded this prime livestock for sorting.

Quickly the livestock was stripped and spread out.  Not just laid out like other groups, these girls were a "Special Order" from a wealthy foreign gentlemen.  He wanted an authentic cheerleader squad, at least a dozen girls, and here they were, with reserves, being filmed and photographed for instant transmission and the waiting customer's approval.

As soon as the images were sent off the client was on the phone asking for close-ups of several of the girls, all now thoroughly scrubbed clean of any slut make-up - most clients wanted fresh-faced girls.

Master and the client debated the issues, did the client want them all, that would cost extra, or just the original dozen?  Meanwhile more cabs arrives and the coach left for its next pick-up of the night.

As the Master and the Client discussed the shipment the slavegirls and gimps completed the loading of the property onto their pallets, then moved on to the rest of the arrivals.

Finally the client arrived at a decision, he'd take the original dozen and the Master would keep the others in storage for a few months, for a premium fee, to be called up, but the Master would take his choice of four of the remaining girls, and one would be butchered, to help break the others to their fate.


The processing was running smoothly now, everyone was working to perfection and three lorries had already been loaded with over a hundred livestock. The Master had selected several prime breeders and slaves for his own private stock and seen these loaded into his private truck, amply equipped with the cages for the slaves and gimps once they'd finished their work.

Towards the end of the night the coach returned, but began flashing its hazard lights as it entered - a sign of trouble.  Everyone stopped their work and raced to help.

The party were a group of girls in their mid-twenties, some quite fetching, and some already undressed.  It turned out that a couple of the girls had brought their boyfriends to "play" with.

The answer was simple, an anticipated problem, after stripping the boys down and inspecting them a quick call was put in to a number of Mistresses and Huntresses on the Dolcett Membership - two fresh gimps were available for immediate auction. 

The naked boys were hung unconscious by their wrists from an overhead beam and cameras set up for the instant auction, while the other livestock were stripped and sorted, all but two to go for harvesting, and those two for the slave auctions.

As they were male the two boys were more resistant to the light sleeping drugs and were soon groggily returning to consciousness and discovering their situation. Looking around as if in a dream, seeing all the nude girls running around and the many more being hauled and carted around the huge building, the blinding lights staring at them and the gimps jogging around under heavy loads, it was unsurprising that the mixture of drugs, the heat of the building and the naked flesh would cause a reaction in the boys and soon they were standing to involuntary attention.

"Notice ladies," the Master spoke into his microphone to the online audiences, "the reactions we're getting.  Firm muscles there.  What am I bid for them, singly or as a pair?"

Voices whispered in his ear as the boys began to waken, struggle and scream, although their erections remained proud.

On Huntress wanted to see their reaction to the whip and a a few minutes later a slavegirl was flogging the rears of both boys.  Still the erections remained proud and pulsating.  This won much approval and the bidding rose higher.

While the auction continued the remains of the litter and all other traces were being cleared away.  Four lorries were loaded and sealed at the far end of the warehouse and a door opened to allow them out.

A Mistress wanted to see the boys' performance after release of the erections and two gimps were set to pumping the boys' cocks.  A few jerks and they were spewing into the gimps' hands and the boys faces smeared in cum. A slavegirl arrived to fluff the boys up and, despite their terror they were soon standing proud again. 

The bidding rose even higher.


Around the hasty auction the rest of the Master's staff were completing the final sweep of the building, some girls and the cab drivers were stripping the vehicles of their stick-on signs and colour schemes.  While still strikingly pink the vehicles were soon beginning to look less blindingly obvious. 

A few more minutes and splashes of paint and other, darker stickers were altering the cabs and making them far less recognisable.

The drivers checked their cabs with approval and were soon driving out again into the night, following different routes than the lorries to a special remote destination on the outskirts of Liverpool.


The male auction came to an end and both boys were quickly processed, butt plugs forced deep, gags inserted and hood enclosing their heads, the last sights of freedom they would ever have.

With legs bound tight the boys were forced down onto pallets, their cocks fluffed hard to keep them under control and they were wheeled away to the Master's truck.

The master took a long tour of the building, checking that all traces of their activities were washed away, no DNA to leave behind, not that it would matter, as the gimps and girls had already sprayed every surface with an inflammable liquid and booby traps were set on most of the doors.

Turning back to his truck the Master was joined by his last slave, all the others now being locked back into their cages.  She joined him in the truck's cab, taking the wheel and driving out into the darkness, the warehouse doors closing automatically at their rear as they disappeared into the darkness.


Of course in the modern world there were traces, of a kind, CCTV cameras had seen the repeated passages of the Pink Pussy Cabs and the departure of the lorries, but carefully mapped routes were set to foil any distant pursuit, as the police were eventually to discover.

While the livestock lorries and the Master's truck sped away to their distribution destination the Pussy Cabs all arrived at an old warehouse in a run-down part of Liverpool.

The warehouse was like a rubbish tip, mountains of old crates, walls of old car tyres and drums of highly unstable liquids.

Although it seemed a waste of useful resources the Cabs were at the end of their lives and the price tags on a mere handful of girls would easily pay for any replacement fleet.

Early Tuesday morning, as the outcry reached is desperate heights in the press and in parliament a small fire broke out in the warehouse.  With heavy commuter traffic on the roads the police and fire services found it difficult to reach the location in time to stop the huge fire that erupted and subsequently burnt for several days, the timber storehouse and the adjoining scrap yard full of car tyres formed an impenetrable barrier to the efforts, and, being sufficiently remote from other buildings the authorities chose to let the fire burn out.

Only afterwards did they discover the collection of vehicles within the wreckage, but with all traces removed and licence plates that weren't associated to the Pink Pussy Cabs, no one was suspicious for days, and by then every forensic trace had been erased by the fire and the fire-fighting efforts.


Of the girls, the meat and the livestock, and the two boys, what can we say?  So many individual stories, of horror and pleasure.  Yes, indeed pleasure, as each slave was broken to his or her future life they soon settled submissively into their destinies.

Whether being flogged to the edge of death, hunted in the playgrounds of private retreats deep in remote countrysides of many foreign destinations, used as personal slaves, for breeding for bodily modification all the living slaves were eventually used to their very limits, and beyond.

And the meat?  Well feasts were had, organs were stripped and sold.   There was no callousness in this, merely the systematic processing of flesh into usable material.  Much in the same way a President or Prime Minister might order a war and the deaths of thousands, so a handful of discerning individuals had ordered the flesh of a few dozen.

The story of the cheerleader squad was just the same as other slaves.  After being boxed in a padded container for several days at sea they were unloaded, filthy, tired and terrified, in a small remote port where their buyer had friendly contacts with the local Customs officers, to whom one cheerleader was donated for six months of playful adventures before she was butchered at the National Holiday Celebrations in the town (they do like white meat on those special occasions).

The rest of the squad were soon to be found, pampered, well-fed, exercised and regularly whipped as they performed grueling routines their coach would never imagined them capable of.  They're still there, if you know who to talk to and are happy to accept an invitation to a very discreet and very entertaining show.


Nancy woke up quickly from her experience, the cool air on her bare body brought her to almost instant alertness, the tight bounds holding her nakedness send her mind spinning.  Her arms were stretched out to each side strapped by leather to a long wooden beam.  She was held upright by a narrow, and now painful, shaft protruding between her legs, while her ankles were fastened, she couldn't tell how, somewhat behind her stance, her feet on small supportive steps, so that she was thrust a little forward in the chest and her legs spread to expose her sex.

There was no gag to stop her gasps and cries then screams, but the padded nature of the walls told her there was little chance anyone was likely to hear her or the five other girls similarly posed along the two opposing long walls of the room.

Her first few hours, or so it seemed, in this crucified position exhausted her and she stopped her cries and just waited, as did all the other girls.  Throughout the room became a little warmer, making their position easier to bear.

Eventually a large thick door slammed open and two gimps pushed a metal trolley into the room.  Its noise was a nerve-jangling contrast to the silence that had fallen on the room.  On this was strapped another nude girl.  None of those present recognised the cheerleader.

The girl was posed, spread nude face down with her rump raised on a block in the middle of the trolley and her head positioned over the end of the trolley. Her arms were tied tight behind her back.  She didn't seem to care about the discomfort of her position.

After this display came a tall well-dressed man with a chain in hand leading two naked girls by their collars.  He came to a halt by the trolley in the middle of the room as the two gimps rushed to the end opposite the door and locked themselves into shackles, suspending their arms above their heads, against the walls.

The Master looked a the girls on display.

"Welcome to your future, you're here to serve as my slave and you have no other future apart from this." He slapped the upraised rump of naked meat before him.  "The police have been looking for you for several days now, but they have no chance of finding you here," he waved at the dungeon around them.

"You have no choice in this so don't even think of pleading, or begging or crying.  I'm only interested in obedience or you'll end up here." Again a slap on the rump.

Taking the leashes of the two slavegirls he strolled around the room inspecting the new livestock.  "These two," a jerk on the leashes, "were just like you once, before I liberated them from the outside world and all its stupid conventions, now they're free to be the sluts and slaves they've always dreamed of."  He paused to caress on particularly moist pussy on one cross, it was Nancy.  He smiled.

"I'm sure some of you will soon settle in and enjoy your life, but there are penalties or rewards," he smiled a secret smile, "depending on your outlook." He release one of the girls and waved at the gimps.

"Fluff." He commanded and the girls raced over to unfasten the gimps chastity belts and fluff up their cocks.  The gimps groaned in pleasure at the release.

The Master ignored the activity and returned to the girl on the trolley. He ran his fingers between the raised curves of her rump.

"Mmmmm, sweet honey."  He smiled. The girls arched her rump begging for another caress.  "One moment my dear."  He lifted a long slender metal spike from a shelf under the trolley.  He looked around the girls in the room.

"This is what happens to all our girls, eventually."

He quickly placed the tip of the spike against the anal passage of the girl and began pressing it in.  Arching to receive the spike, thinking it a pleasure probe, the girl didn't realise the eight foot length of metal was waiting for her, until, a swift but firm thrust and it drove deep into her.

Pushing hard but carefully, a true Master of his art, he pressed the spike through the ecstatically groaning girl and out through her throat, halting her screams in a flush of blood and metal through her mouth.

"Perfecto!"  He cried.

The six crucified girls were shocked, stunned, crying and aroused in equal measure.

"I know you're all hungry so you'll be brought down to the feast once she's cooked."

And with that he left, with the two slavegirls following and pushing the trolley behind him.  The gimps were left unsatisfied and hanging at the end of the room as the door slammed closed.


Nancy was release several hours later.  Along with the other girls she was led to a clinical tiled room where her collar was installed and her salve tag inspected for damage.  The girls' screams of pain from the painful procedures echoed around the tiles, and entertained the thousands of Club X21 members watching on their videos.

With their sore pussies and arms chained tight at their backs the girls were led into the banqueting hall where they caught sight of the spit roasted girl being lifted off the fires. 

Hen Night - girls kidnapped, stripped and selected for breeding.  Dolcett Enterprises BDSM reality on the edge.Slices of flesh were cut from the rump the Master has been slapping only a few hours past and each of the new girls were force fed on the meat.

Despite her distaste at first Nancy's hunger overcame her and she was soon biting hard on every morsel offered to her, her Master's hand caressing her head as his new pet knelt on the floor by his table.

Strangely she only noticed later how her sore pussy was also reacting excitedly to the banquet, the roasted girl and the many other slaves on display.

Nancy had arrived home at last, and it turned out to be the best hen night she had ever dreamed of.


 

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Hen Night - Slavegirls kidnapped, stripped and crated for auction.