I, Slave

I thrust my tongue out for him. They laughed.

"Well, I have this out now," he said, snapping the pliers twice. "Might as well use it."

I tasted the tang of oiled metal as he clamped it down on the tip of my tongue. I squirmed as he withdrew a long slender chain from his pocket and hooked one end to my tongue stud. He left the length of the chain hanging down my body from my mouth to the courtyard floor. It hurt.

"Perfect," said Paolo.

"Have fun, slut," laughed Ian.

Then they left.

I waited. Again, I don't know how long. I watched the moon shadows slide across the courtyard as I listened to the frogs and insects raise a riot of noise from the surrounding countryside. The sounds of nature helped. I focused on the slow rising and falling patterns of the metallic whirring of some particularly loud critter. My mind fell away, my pain subsided. I raised my face to the sky and got lost in the stars. As the ache in my muscles blurred into a kind of numbness, my mind expanded to fill the galaxy from one arm to the other. I gasped at the transcendence of the moment. It was my first experience with the intense mental freedom born of physical bondage. Sadly, it did not last long.

The door opened and the fat, blue-black skinned man stepped into the courtyard. With his dark blue pajamas and tinted glasses, he was barely visible in this light. The glowing ember at the end of his cigar was the only sure reference point by which to judge his approach. I watched it come nearer with intense trepidation.

He stood over me and took a drag on his cigar. He reached down with his chubby hand and grasped the tongue chain where it dangled between my breasts. With a deep laugh he pulled it forward, yanking my tongue forward. I winced as my eyes flashed wide in pain. He fumbled with his pajamas and pulled his cock free. Darker still than the flesh of his face and hands, it was a shape only suggested by a dim outline in the black night. I noticed he was flaccid. Holding his cock lightly in his giant paw he rocked back on his heals and widened his stance. I realized what he was up to but there was nothing I could do.

When his stream of urine hit me, I instinctually tried to recoil but the chain hooked to my tongue held me in check. He laughed as the stinging, stinking patter of his piss rained down on my helplessly upturned face and filled my mouth. I clamped my eyes tight and moaned helplessly from far back in my throat. He played with his stream as it petered out, splashing my hair and tits as his strong torrent decreased to weak spurts. I looked up at him with pathetic eyes as he tucked his penis back into his fly. As a goodbye of sorts he spat in my face and pushed me over on my side onto the urine soaked flagstones of the courtyard.

But do you know what? I didn't cry. As disgusted as I was; as mortified, shocked, and saddened as I felt, I did not break down. I lay next to the drain in a slowing retreating puddle of acrid piss and let the night and the buzzing sounds of nature swallow me up again. I was a slave. This was my life now. There was no point in getting maudlin about it, right?

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew the two lieutenants were standing over me and one of them was striking me on the butt with his foot, the force of something between and nudge and a kick.

"Wake up slut," said one of them. I could tell by the voice it was Lieutenant Ian.

I felt the tension relax from the knots tying my wrists and ankles together. I wanted to curl up into a ball and go back to sleep, to escape this nightmare even if it meant sleeping all night on urine soaked bricks. But strong hands grabbed my wrists and hauled me to my feet.

"Sleeping in piss, huh?" asked Paolo as he rebound by wrists in front of me. "I hope you remember that when you're feeling all high and mighty at Princeton one day."

"Princeton," I said weakly, hopelessly and with great sadness. I had forgotten. One day and already I'd forgotten my goal. I was like an animal already, doing whatever it took to live from breath to breath.

"Shit, Ian, she's already off her rocker," laughed Paolo.

"Naw, she's just tired," said Ian. "But we'll wake her up. Get her ready."

I was pulled to my feet and marched to one of the arched alcoves that ringed the courtyard. My wrists were hooked to a cord that hung from a pulley the arch's keystone. The slack was pulled from the cord and I was hoisted until I was standing on my toes with my body pulled tight. That's when I saw Ian was holding a hose. He turned it on and cold, cold water under high pressure slammed into me.

It was difficult to stay on my feet as the water pummeled me. Frequently I lost contact with the ground and swung free in the chilling spray. They were very thorough with the hose. Every inch of me got rinsed, from the pale-yellow roots of the hair on the back of my head to the hidden crevices between my tiny toes. The lieutenants laughed as I squawked and sputtered. But I did not ask or beg for them to stop; I knew better.

Finally the water stopped. I was left dripping and shivering where I hung. The lieutenants drew close. I knew what was coming. I let my body hang limply as I waited for it to begin.

"You still owe us from this morning girlie," said Lieutenant Ian. He yanked his zipper down and withdrew his cock. I didn't look at it. I kept my eyes focused on his. I showed no emotion.

"She's gonna be all stretched out from spending so long on The Stool."

"She's young. I bet she's already snapped back into shape," he said. He reached down to run his palms down my thighs. Hooking his hands behind my knees he pulled my legs up and spread them wide. He moved close and I could feel his erection poking me in my pudenda, still aching from my tattoo. "Hold her legs for me," he said to his partner. "I'm gonna test her out."

Lieutenant Paolo got in close behind me. I could feel his erection firm beneath his slacks as it pushed against the aching tattoo in the small of my back. He took my legs in his hands as Lieutenant Ian reached down and slipped the firm tip of his cock down into the folds of my pussy. Sharp darts of pain caused me to flinch when he brushed the still-raw piercings in my clit and lips. This seemed to arouse both of them further. He found my vagina and he entered me with a steady push. I was still sore from the metal phallus that so recently had been humming inside me and I squirmed as he filled me with his flesh.

"How is it?" asked Lieutenant Paolo.

"Not bad. Not as tight as I'd hoped. She still needs a few hours to recover, I suppose."

"Wait, I know how to tighten her up."

I heard a zipper behind me. Soon I felt a hard prick poking down along the crease of my ass, searching for my anus. I gasped in terror as I realized what they were going to do. I strained at my bound wrists as if trying to lift myself out of this situation. My efforts only made them laugh.

He entered me. Alongside Lieutenant Ian, separated by a thin wall of tender inner flesh, Lieutenant Paolo's lubed cock slipped inside me. I was lifted on their two dicks as they pushed their manhoods in me to the hilt. The strain was released from my arms and shoulders and I sighed gratefully at the lapse in tension.

"Oh dude, she likes it!"

"Man, what a slut."

I wanted to protest. It was the feeling of not hanging from the arch that I liked, not those two cocks threatening to pull me apart from inside. But as they began undulating into me with a crushing, muscular rhythm I began to feel the aching throb of too much sex become a glowing bloom of ecstasy. They were so big and powerful. I was so helpless. As they pumped their fucks into me I had to time my breaths between the compaction of my body between theirs.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Pump that bitch. Stick it to her just like that," one would say.

"Oh Christ. That's it right there. Come on, a little harder," the other would respond.

It was almost funny, but I knew better than to laugh.

Finally they finished. They came together, their cocks trembling and pumping head to head inside me with only a bruised buffer of my flesh between them. I hadn't climaxed but the feeling of relief when they let me down and released my bonds was almost as good.

8. The Cell

I was marched from the courtyard. Passing through the doorway into a stairwell, I stumbled on nothing in particular. One of the lieutenants smacked me in the back of the head and told me to pay attention. I tried but my entire body ached, inside and out. I'd done ten years of competitive gymnastics and had never been as exhausted as I was at the end of my first day as a slave. And my mind was even wearier than my body, my thoughts remaining mercifully blank after a long day of terror and degradation. Eventually I would come to realize that exhaustion is the slave's best friend. When you're too tired to think you suffer no anxieties about whatever torments await you in your next client's suite and when you're too weary to string together a coherent thought the constant humiliations that are a slave's bread and butter have much less bite.

We started up the stairs, climbing up to a second floor. It felt to me like I was climbing Everest. Finally we reached a short corridor with six or eight heavy wood doors. I was led to the end and pushed inside.

The room was surprisingly large, about three yards by four. It had a very high ceiling and was brightly painted in a pastel pink with a wide but short window high up, near the ceiling. The light was from low wattage bulbs mounted in two sconces in the center of opposite walls. There was a comfortable looking single bed in one corner and a large, claw-foot bathtub in the opposite corner. The bathtub was full of clear, hot water. Above me a slowly turning ceiling fan stirred the warm, humid air.

The lieutenants shut the door behind me. There was no knob on my side. I checked the bed, it was firm but comfortable. I took a corner of the pillow and dipped it in the bathwater to see if it would dissolve away in a hiss of concentrated acid, but it didn't. The bath was merely a bath. The water smelled of roses.

It's odd, after only a day of being pushed around and treated like a beast I felt a weird reluctance to do anything without being directed to do so. So I sat on the edge of the bed and eyed the bathwater. It looked tempting. I bet it would feel really good on my aching muscles.

After several minutes I could hear the approach of high heels tic-tacking down the hall outside. As they drew closer I began to feel anxious at having taken my ease without permission. I jumped up from the bed and quickly smoothed the covers. They were a little moist where I'd sat (I was still damp from by recent hosing in the courtyard) but not wet enough to be visible. I lowered myself to the tiled floor as the footsteps halted outside my door. It swung open, revealing Mistress White who stood holding a tray. She was dressed in thigh high stockings, lacy, matching bra and panties and four inch pumps - all white, of course. Her face registered surprise when she found me kneeling on the floor.

"Are you afraid of the bath, Seventy-Seven?"

"I hadn't been told..." I began, but the thought sounded stupid as the sentence formed in my head. I realized my reluctance has been entirely instinctual. It was frightening how easily I had slipped into the thought patterns of a well disciplined pet. But that was neither here nor there. I was sure The Mistress wouldn't like it if I didn't finish my statement properly. "...I'm sorry, Mistress White," I said.

The Mistress smiled. "No, Seventy-Seven. Your behavior is most proper. It's just that most new slaves don't know to wait for permission."

"Thank you Mistress," I said. "Thank you most kindly."

"As your reward, you get to eat your meal of a plate instead of the floor," she said as she set the tray down next to me on the bed. There was a plate and a cup on the tray. The plate held about a cup and a half of fried rice with peas and cubes of tofu. The cup held some kind of thick protein shake.

"I didn't bring silverware," she told me. She pointed at the tray. "Eat."

I did. The terror of the day had left me no time to realize I hadn't eaten in... I didn't even know how long. But the sight and smell of food had reminded me and I was suddenly aching with hunger. I brought the plate to my face and scooped up mouthfuls of the flavorless rice and tofu, chased by gulps of flavorless but heavy and gritty shake.

"You really are a clever girl," said Mistress White. It made me feel warm inside to be complemented so delightfully by one of my betters. It was like the rush of a good report card or the satisfaction of another acceptance letter for a hard-to-get-into school.

"Thank you very much, Mistress." I put the plate and cup back on the tray.

"Yes, yes," she said dismissively. "Up on the bed now. Lay back. I need to check your piercings. Then we'll get you into that tub and get you loosened up and rested for tomorrow."

I moved the tray to the floor and lay on the bed. Mistress White checked my raw new tattoos and my tender, newly pierced nipples, vulva and tongue. She dabbed each with a Q-tip and antibiotic. She probed into my vagina and my rectum with her fingers. She asked if I was sore in there and I told her I was. However, I grew moist as her fingers penetrated me.

"Hmmm," she said. "Does my attention turn you on?"

"Yes, Mistress. I'm finding that it does, Mistress."

Her hands strayed across my flesh. Her glancing touch was by fingertips only and my skin danced and twitched as her gentle caress roamed across me. She was amazing: so beautiful, so articulate, so in control. She knew just how to touch my breasts, my thighs, my stomach to stoke a reluctant arousal from my spent body. I wanted her to take me and make love to me; me, who had never felt another woman's sensual touch before today. I wanted her more badly than I'd ever wanted any man. I looked into her eyes, mine large and pleading for sensual escalation from my Mistress.

Mistress White returned the look. She bit her lip as her nostrils flared. I watched as she fought back her burgeoning arousal and tried to cover it up by scratching the tip of her nose. "We need to have some time together, you and I," she said. "But now isn't that time. Now you need to get rested for tomorrow. There are quite a few gentlemen who are interested in reserving your time."

My heart sank. For a brief period I'd forgotten why I was here and had become totally entangled in my startling sapphic flight of fancy.

She helped me into the tub and left with the tray. The water was hot and fragrant with rose oil. The wet heat soaked into my aching muscles and bones as I lay watching the blades of the fan turning above me. From a corner of the window I could see stars in the black sky. I wondered if anyone was back at home, looking at those same stars and missing me.

Later, I don't know how much later but the water had gone from piping hot to barely lukewarm, I was awakened where I'd fallen asleep in the bathtub. I was helped up by two young women. The girls were naked but for a ball gags. They were overseen by Mistress Black. She made a point of swatting me across the stinging new tattoo on my bald pubis as I rose from the water. As I whimpered, she laughed and drew her riding crop back for another swat.

The slaves pulled me from the tub, carefully dried me with thick towels, attended to my piercings once again with some kind of antibacterial gel and finally laid me on the bed. For the next half hour they massaged me roughly as Mistress Black snapped orders at them and looked bored. Finally they left.

Exhausted, I fell spinning backwards into dreams of increasingly incredible levels of degradation.

9. The Master's Morning Regimen

My nightmares woke me. It was still dark. The strip of stars that had been visible between the bottom of my high window and the edge of the roof's deep eaves had turned to a pillowy mass of charcoal grey clouds. The tropical wail of insects and toads drifted in from the encircling jungle. The air was still, thick and warm. My body was still exhausted and sore but my mind churned uneasily. I remained in bed as my thoughts ran riot.

Specifically, I wondered about what one of the lieutenants had said. He'd taunted me, hoping I'd remember my degradation when I eventually got to Princeton. But, earlier, Mistress Black had told me I'd never leave this place. I tried to rectify the difference. Why would one or the other lie? Whose interest would it serve if my spirit was utterly broken? Whose interest would it serve if I maintained a spark of hope? Or maybe it was more a matter of one contingent not knowing the truth. What was the power structure here? Were the lieutenants more in-the-know than the Mistresses or vice-versa? What the hell was going on? I groaned aloud in confusion and panic. My thin, throaty wail echoed around my cell.

My thoughts ran along these lines for several hours as the clouds outside grew lighter and drew lower. The humidity increased until the air felt soupy. The heat got oppressive. I would have taken another bath but the spigot had no knobs. Drawing water was not a luxury afforded to slaves.

I began to hear voices. Male voices drifting up from somewhere below my window. The cadence didn't seem like English. I guessed it was Spanish or maybe Portuguese. Although I couldn't understand what was said I could feel a nervous energy in the voices. Eager to think of anything other than my own predicament I let myself grow curious. I stood and approached the window, straining to hear more clearly.

I tried to reach the bottom of the window sill, but it was well out of reach. A tall girl might be able to jump and catch the sill, but a five-foot-nothing little squirt like me was out of luck. I turned and faced my room. My mind turned the problem over in my head, looking for alternatives.

I climbed on the edge of the tub. I reached out but it was too far from the window to make the grab. I put a hand on the wall. It felt solid. I knocked twice. It was solid: poured concrete. A little person might hit that wall with all their might and not make a sound. I looked at the tub, the corner, the window. Finally, I leapt. The ball of my foot hit the wall and I pushed out and up. Turning in mid air I was able to catch the bottom of the window with my hands and forearms. My nipples hurt as my new piercings ground against the concrete. I found myself hanging on the sill inspecting the screen: nothing fancy, just an aluminum mesh in a steel frame in a groove. I was able to slide it out of my way with my finger tips. I scooted up the wall and wiggled my head and shoulders out into the morning air. I paused, balanced on the sill on my tummy.

I looked down. Below me was a tangle of wickedly thorned bushes. I didn't recognize the plant but its mass of plum colored spikes that ran up the canes of its tangled tendrils foretold a painful landing and even more painful extraction if I decided to risk the drop. I looked up. The eaves were close enough to touch. They extended a yard from the outer wall of the building. To my right and left, similar windows showed as dark stripes in the structure's plain facade. I could see why they had not bothered to bar the windows. There would be no escape via this route.

Below, beyond the tangle of thorny vines, five shirtless men in khaki trousers were milling about while one of the lieutenants, a black one I hadn't seen before, spoke to them in Spanish. He spoke slowly and carefully. The men he was speaking to nodded their heads and lined up to each accept a handful of what looked like American currency. They were swarthy and scrawny: peasants. As they retreated to opposing corners of the grassy quadrangle the Black lieutenant stuffed a fat roll of money in a small pouch and left it sitting on the grass. He too withdrew to the edge of the lawn. They waited without speaking or moving while the clouds dropped lower and the air further congealed to the consistency of a steamy meringue.