I, Slave

I was relieved. But, to be honest, I was also a little disappointed.

12. The Fall of Mistress Black

I had recognized the client. He was a Senator from back in the States. My student government group had traveled down to Washington D.C. in my junior year and he'd given us a very interesting talk on personal responsibility and republican government. But he was an unimaginative Master. A little hog tying, a little anal, a little oral and we were done. He then told me all about his childhood in Iowa before he fell asleep, leaving me unbound. Bored, I went to the window to look out at the stars.

We were in bungalow "Red" which was off to one side of the resort next to the jungle. I liked the cabins off on the edges of the compound. I could almost feel the riot of noise vibrating deep in my bones as the various tropical creatures screamed for a mate in the night. Sitting alone at the patio door at the edge of the wildest of wild nature, looking up at the stars was the best life had to offer a slave at the resort. Consequently, I drank it in.

But, this night, something was off.

As I sat with my eyes fixed on the stars and my mind blank, swimming in the rising and falling voices of my jungle neighbors, I noticed a discordant tone seeping through the veil of sound. It was tiny, but it didn't belong. It was a continuous female whimper growing a little louder by degrees. Of course, the occasional scream or cry of an overtaxed slave wasn't unusual at the resort, but this was different. It was too low to carry through a night so crowded with sound and it was coming closer. I ducked behind the patio door and waited.

I spotted them soon enough. Mistress Black was marching through the night driving number Eighty-One ahead of her. Poor Eighty-One was struggling to stifle her sobbing but was doing a piss poor job of it. Plus Black wasn't helping matters by beating her in the back of her head with her riding crop and ordering her to shut up in a harsh whisper. I knew they had to be heading towards the machine shop for one of Mistress Black's illicit money making ventures. Where else would they be going?

I felt bad for Eighty-one. She wasn't cut out for this lifestyle. Since her first day, when I'd assisted in her initiation, I saw she was too mentally fragile. She would end up as one of the girls who went nuts: smearing themselves with feces, jabbering uncontrollably, lapsing into an unresponsive fugue or one of a million other different ways girls fell apart; sacrificing their minds to make it all stop. Now Black was going to feed her to a dozen or so greasy, smelly workmen and pocket the cash. If the girl escaped the night with her mind intact it would be a small miracle.

As I watched them pass I remembered my own turn in the machine shop. "She'll be coming for you the next time The Master and his Princess have one of their parties," one of the other slaves had warned me. Everyone agreed that's how Mistress Black's scheme worked but no one knew what these parties were. I turned back and looked into the interior of the cabin. My Senator was snoring loudly on the bed. I looked out into the night at the backs of the Mistress and Eighty-one as they moved towards the lagoon.

I stepped off the patio into the bushes. My heard leapt in my chest at the thrill of deliberately breaking the rules.

I was naked and I felt like my pale skin practically glowed in the dark as I scampered across the laws towards the center of the resort. But it was late and there were no eyes to see me. I went slower as I neared The Master's hacienda, ducking from cover to cover as I approached the outer wall of the building. I found a trellis at the end of the veranda and pulled myself up to the porch awning. From there it was a difficult leap to the eaves of the second storey and then a flailing climb to the roof. I caught my breath and gathered my nerve as I waited to be sure I hadn't been spotted. Nothing changed. My breathing settled down into a normal rhythm. I was still safe.

In the center of Master's house was a wide atrium with a small garden, a richly furnished patio and a fountain. I loved when Master would take me for his own pleasure for he would almost invariably have me in this wonderfully appointed outdoor room. I assumed I'd find him there. As I carefully climbed over the crest of the roof and looked down into the open area I spotted his "party". The lighting was low, provided by a ring of oil lamps, but I could see them clearly. On a comfortable divan, The Master sat with his robe open and his legs splayed wide as he pleasured himself with a hand slick with oil. In front of him, Mistress White lay crushed between the bodies of the four lieutenants as they fucked her in every hole. It was strangely quiet but for her occasional trilling cries of pleasure and their animal grunts as they pumped her and occasionally swapped positions. I was briefly transfixed by the scene. I wondered if Master would ever pick me to come to one of his parties. I licked my lips thinking about it.

A wail from somewhere brought me back to my senses. I remembered Eighty-One, probably similarly packed full of cock in the machine shop as Mistress Black pocketed her money. A plan popped into my head. It was stupid, it was desperate but it had a hold of me instantly. Perhaps when the mind is subservient for so long it yearns for rebellion out of sheer equilibrium. I don't know. All I know is my hand had raised to throw the shard of roof tile before my mind had time to consider it. As I watched the fist sized chunk of ceramic sail down into the atrium I was already regretting it.

It made an audible "thunk" sound as it bounced off the back of one of the lieutenant's heads, immediately followed by a cross and perplexed "Ow!" Every eye was on me as I dashed back over the peak of the roof.

"You slave! Stop there!" cried Master, but I didn't. I raced around the perimeter of the roof until I got to the corner closest to the lagoon.

I jumped down and raced across a small yard until I got to a one storey building and bounded off a lawn chair to catch hold of the roof. As I scrambled up I saw the lieutenants burst out of Master's house, racing after me. I took off sprinting along the roofs, leaping from one to the next as I made rapid time down the slope leading to sea.

The tightly clustered structures in the center of the resort thinned out about a hundred yards from the machine shop. I thought had enough lead on my pursuers to dismount from one roof, dash across an open area and climb onto another before they grabbed me but the time I wasted getting up on that last roof allowed the lieutenants to get close. One climbed up after me as the others circled the building to cut me off. I dashed to the end of the roof and leapt over their heads without pausing. I could feel the fingers of one brush along the sole of my foot as I sailed over him and he tried to snatch me out of the air. I landed well, coming down with a forward tumble and was off running again before they had time to change direction to follow. Then, behind me, I heard a voice cry "heads up!" then feet hitting the ground hard just behind me. He landed poorly. He was windmilling his arms, trying to keep on his feet and he stumbled/ran up along side me. I jumped to the side and gave him a push. He went down hard as I continued my sprint.

I could hear the breaths of my remaining pursuers huffing closer and closer in my ears. As I reached the machine shop one of the lieutenants was quickly gaining on me, racing to get to the door before I did. It was Ian. He almost made it. I grabbed the knob and flung it open just as he jumped for it. The corner of the heavy door caught him in the forehead and he went down, limp. I barely got inside before a strong hand clamped on my arm and jerked me off my feet. I fell to the grimy concrete floor with a thud as the two remaining pursuers jumped into the building to deal with me.

But I'd got what I wanted. What the lieutenants found when they stepped inside was Mistress Black counting a fistful of cash while Eighty-One sobbed and cried from the center of a mass of thrusting, pumping peasant bodies. Black dropped her cash as her eyes went wide with terror.

"What the fuck, Donna?" said Lieutenant Mark.

I looked up and started laughing.

13. The Punishment

Everyone was there. All the guests, all the girls, all the lieutenants, even some folks not staying at the resort had come down for the show. It was all my doing, of course, and I was mortified. They couldn't be serious, could they? I waited for the twist where The Master told us he was only kidding.

"Gentlemen," The Master was saying to the guest who had paid well to watch him execute one of his errant girls. "As you know I am not overly cruel with my slaves. Some of you have even suggested that I'm far too soft." He smiled. "Well, gentlemen, let me correct that erroneous notion now. Before you we have Twenty-Two. Formerly a trusted Mistress, she betrayed me and my resort for personal gain, putting the health of her fellow slaves and my honored guests at risk."

Twenty-Two's eyes were wide, full of raw terror. Her mouth bit into the ball strapped in her mouth with fierce urgency as her big, heavily bound breasts rose and fell with her frantic, labored breaths.

"Now, sadly, my once beloved Twenty-Two can only serve me now by providing an example that betrayal can not be forgiven. Watch my darlings and don't turn away." Master said to his slaves.

She was already pretty tightly bound. We'd sat and watched as they tied her wrists and elbows tightly behind her. We heard her whimper as they fastened her legs together, bend them back and fastened them again: ankles to thighs. They took extra care binding her breasts, strapping them so tightly that they were beginning to turn blue. A final turn of the ropes down through the folds of her pussy, up through her ass crack along her back and around her neck completed the cruel ritual. Her eyes were wide with terror and wet with tears. We could all see that every breath caused her wretched pain. Two of the lieutenants picked her up and placed her in the long steel box sitting next to the fresh hole in the earth. I noticed Lieutenant Ian had a row of stitches in his forehead where I'd hit him with the machine shop door.

With a gesture Master motioned for the lieutenants to come forward. As they closed the lid to the coffin we could hear Twenty-Two's desperate attempts to cry out around her gag. Then it was silent. We heard no more as they lifted the coffin with straps and lowered it into the ground.

He had done it. Oh my God, Master had really done it.

Many of the other girls were sobbing. I was too shocked to move. Not that I could have. I was hogtied, on the ground, awaiting my punishment, which I had been told would come next.

The girls not reserved to fuck, suck or stroke the client's who had paid premium prices to watch Twenty-Two die were ordered filled the grave. There weren't many girls free, so it took a long time. I felt ill as I scanned the satisfied faces of the sick fuckers who had come for Black's snuff show. There was no second grave for me but I felt no relief that I would probably survive the day.

"Secondly," said The Master as the slaves dropped their shovels and returned to their kneeling positions around the fresh grave. "Number Seventy-Seven has disappointed us greatly. I had high hopes for this one, but she abandoned her client, disturbed a private party and injured two of my lieutenants. For these crimes I sentence her to the most severe punishment short of the ultimate one: three days in The Latrine."

There was a gasp from the girls. I was too shocked to react.

The Latrine: it sat close to the center of the compound. A square room, two yards to a side with a tile floor and a drain. I was marched there with great ceremony and strapped spread eagled on the tiles. My mouth was propped open with bite guard. "Gentlemen," announced The Master. "For the next three days, Seventy-Seven is your human toilet. Take advantage as you see fit. Now, if you will excuse me, I intend to christen her term personally."

He shut the door and faced me. I looked into his eyes, aching for forgiveness, maybe even appreciation at having unmasked his traitor. But there was nothing. His attitude was cold and merciless as he lowered his trousers. I was a filthy toilet now, nothing more.

Please forgive me dear reader, but I do not wish to recount this episode further.

14. The Takeover

I wasn't such a great slave after that. I drifted through my days without any real interest in what happened to me. I no longer expected to be free again, nor did I expect to survive. Consequently, I barely reacted when whipped or slapped or shocked or bound. I had become one of those dead-eyed girls I used to feel sorry for. But not anymore. I felt sorry for no one now, not even myself.

I still got selected by a lot of clients but Master stopped taking me for his personal amusement. My heart ached that I had disappointed him. I missed being special. I missed my Master.

Then Nick Murphy arrived and changed everything.

I heard about Nick Murphy the night before I met him. Me and another girl - Seventy-Four, a tall red head with an Irish accent - were face to face with our nipple rings clamped together. We were working each other over with a couple of dildos while our client watched when she whispered in my ear that someone named Murphy had returned to the resort that evening... so watch out.

"Why?" I whispered back.

"Last time he was here, he killed a girl."

"On purpose?"

"I dunno. Does it matter?"

She had a point. But then, why worry? It wasn't like I could do anything about it, even if he decided to kill me on purpose. Besides, I wasn't really scared of dying anymore. I would have honestly preferred it another three days in The Latrine.

The next morning I was awakened by Mistress White. Our client had Seventy-Four and I up late so I was slow to rouse. A few swipes of Mistress White's riding crop drove the cobwebs from my mind.

"Sorry Mistress," I said, getting to my knees in front of her. I lowered myself to lick her heel in contrition.

"Never mind that. Come with me."

She led me down the stairs and through the gardens towards Master's hacienda. I spotted a couple of large men smoking cigarettes outside the arena where the morning muster was held. They wore cargo shorts, cheesy windbreakers and dim, suspicious expressions on their faces. They seemed awfully low-rent for a resort as exclusive as Master's.

But I didn't give them a second thought as it became obvious we were headed toward Master's house. I thought it was odd that he'd summoned me so early. If he took you for his own pleasure in the morning, he always came to you in your cell, usually after his exercise regimen when his blood was running hot. Besides, it was nearly time for the daily auction. He always attended that. But I didn't worry about the reason, The Master wanted me! That was enough.

But it wasn't just me he wanted. Mistress White showed me to the big front room where five cages now sat along the wall. They were each a yard wide by a yard high, about four feet long and they were spaced a couple of yards apart. Four of the cages already held other girls, all A-list, high earning girls, all crouching uncomfortably, looking me over with surprise.

My heart fell again that The Master hadn't summoned me personally. At least he valued me enough to keep me away from the dreaded Nick Murphy. That was better than nothing, right?

I was ordered into the vacant cage and Mistress White disappeared into the back of the house, leaving we slaves alone. The whispers began flying fast and furious. Apparently -- according to the information the other slaves were able to put together - Lieutenant Paolo was going to run the auction today while Mistress White and The Master where holed up in the back of the house, terrified of this Murphy guy. There was a lot of conjecture about which girl would get picked and whether or not she'd survive. Apparently Murphy liked to choke.

"Why did Master let him come back if he killed one of us?" I asked into the din.

"'Cause he pays his fines." said a voice from somewhere.

"He was banned. He came back anyway." said someone else.

Mistress White came barging in. "Shut up you stupid girls!" she hissed. "Not. Another. Word."

As the word "word" left her mouth there was a knock at the door. The Mistress turned and looked at the door. If she had been pale before, now she went pure white.

The knock repeated, more urgently.

Mistress White visibly gathered up her courage and approached the door. When she opened it I saw our boogieman, Nick Murphy. He was thirty something, tall and thin. His eyes were muddy brown and his skin an artificial, patchy orangish tan. After a while as a slave, you can spot the sick-fucks pretty easily. They have those cold eyes that look right through you rather than at you. Eyes capable of dissecting you with a glare. Murphy's were deader and sicker than usual. Worse, he had the two goons I'd seen smoking out in the garden with him. I could see concern in Mistress White's eyes but her voice remained haughty as ever. "What do you want, Mr. Murphy?"

"I'm here to see your daddy, Sarah."

Mistress White shook noticeably with rage. "Go away," she said. She tried to shut the door but one of the tough guys held it open. The other pulled out a gun and displayed it for her.

"Yeah, I know all about you two. Pretty weird set up if you ask me, but I don't judge. Now let me the fuck in, bitch."

Mistress White stepped back, helpless as the three men pushed past her.

"You guys stay up front here and make sure no one disturbs me while me and the Big Guy work things out," said Murphy. He looked down at us slaves arrayed along the wall in kennels and motioned towards us. "You can amuse yourselves with some of this pussy they have on tap, but stay frosty. This guy can dangerous."

The goons looked us over like kids let loose in a candy store.

"Hey, there are five girls here. Who gets the extra?"

"I do, you stupid fuck. Seniority."

The younger bruiser laughed, "You're forty years old. What're you gonna do with three bitches?"

"I'm gonna enjoy having one more pussy to fuck than you, that's what."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" spat Murphy. He looked at the row of cages and pointed right at me. "You, come here."

"Me?"

"Je-sus! Stupid fucking bitches," he groaned to himself. "Yes you. Now get the fuck up. We're gonna talk to your boss." He turned to his goons. "You morons happy now? I'll take the tiny one and Sarah, Jim takes those two and Eddie gets the other two. Now quit your damn bitching and don't fucking disturb me!"

I opened the latch - it wasn't locked - and crawled out of the cage. Murphy grabbed me by the arm and pulled me along.

Mistress White led us into a part of the house I'd never been in before, through beautifully furnished rooms decorated in a bewildering variety of world class paintings. I decided that if I were to be murdered, I'd prefer for it to happen such a lovely interior.

White paused outside a set of double doors. "Look, before you've gone too far..." she began to say. Murphy struck her with the back of his hand.

"One?" came Master's voice. "What was that noise?"

Murphy took out a gun and pushed us into the room.

It was another beautiful room, but this one looked more lived in or, more accurately, worked in. It was an office. Stacks of papers were piled here and there around a large oaken desk. Two laptops hummed quietly on the credenza behind. Master had already stood and was heading towards the door but Murphy leveled the gun at him and he stopped short.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Nicky?" he said coldly.