The Sisterhood: Slave Recruitment

By M.J. Carey

This short story, the third in the Sisterhood series; Slave Recruitment, tells of an anonymous male, who applies for a job at the ...... corporation, and Stella, a senior member of the Sisterhood, who decides she wants him as her slave. Their story, and his literal descent, is told in a call and response, him to her and back again.

The Sisterhood: A shadow organisation of like-minded, Dominant women who enslave men for their own purposes. Some men, leaders in their own right, are enslaved so the Sisterhood can control and improve their world, while other men are simply enslaved to be used for pleasure and to work for the Sisterhood’s members. These lesser men find themselves hidden away from plain sight, devoted to their Mistresses and spending their lives developing talents to please their owners.

Warning: Due to the sexual content of this short story it should not be read by anyone under 18.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.J. Carey
• Release date: Aug 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310303746

M.J. Carey

I write erotica. A lot of it has been written on my commute to work on the train. I've been wrting for about 9 years in earnest, I just dabbled before the train journey gave me the time. In the last year or so I've polished off the raw material and I'm publishing in ebooks and in paperbacks.The themes of my stories are usually around BDSM. In the Sisterhood series, the themes revolve around female domination. In the House of Penheligon it’s female domination in an exclusively female world. Of course there are men who want to get into the house, and members of the household who want them there, working against the regime to achieve what they want. A third strand of writing revolves around female submission, with three stories published to date; two of which appeared in the Gratis anthologies (also available on Smashwords).

Book preview

The Sisterhood

Slave Recruitment

By

M.J. Carey

Text Copyright © 2013 M.J. Carey Brown

Cover photography © michelaubryphoto and © RoyStudio - Fotolia.com

Smashwords Edition

Text Copyright © 2013 M.J. Carey Brown

The Right of M.J. Carey Brown to be identified as the Author of the work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents act, 1988

All rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older and, due to the sexual content of this book it should not be read by anyone under 18.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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12/03/2013 12,163

Slave Recruitment

Her: I always trust my instincts. As soon as he walked into my office I knew he was the perfect candidate; a true, submissive male. It was the way he politely smiled, respectfully stood before being invited to sit and, most of all, failed to meet my gaze. I know some people find me intimidating but I found his response especially pleasing. His file had given me reasons for optimism but now I found it hard to contain my excitement. I felt myself becoming hot and wet at the prospect. He sat down obediently, facing me, hands folded in his lap. His recently cut hair was short but not severe, the suit was new, off the peg and a little ill-fitting, the tie poorly chosen, but I could overlook all this. He was clearly unused to dressing for a job. I knew he was nearly ten years younger than me, handsome but shy, awkward and probably unaware of his good looks. It seemed to me that there was more to him than met the eye, more than he knew himself.

Between us there was only a low table. As I conducted the interview I slipped forward a little in my seat, pushing my tight bottom forward and letting my pencil skirt ride up a touch; just above the knee. Apparently without thought I smoothed a hand over the sheer black stockings sheathing my legs, subtly showing off my perfectly manicured, blood-red nails; my talons. I watched him swallow nervously and laughed silently to myself as he lost track of his conversation for a moment. In the silence that followed I crossed my legs letting the sharp whisper of nylon against nylon cut through the room, drawing his attention to my thighs. I looked up at him and smiled innocently, the toe of my stiletto pointed directly at his crotch. Did I detect a bulging in his suit trousers? I'm sure I did. A little later I unbuttoned my tailored suit jacket and watched him as he tried not to look at the swell of my breasts beneath white silk. I had deliberately left a button or two undone. Perfume wafted from my cleavage, presented beautifully by the white, uplift bra. I know I was subtle, but every time I moved my body it stalled his conversation and brought colour to his cheeks, the dirty boy's eyes glancing to see if he could catch a glimpse of anything more intimate. I merely smiled and asked him another