Allison's Descent into Slavery Pt. 04

Bobby stood up and walked away whistling proudly to himself leaving me to my thoughts. Here I was, caged, naked, hands secured behind my back, gagged, sand still littering my body and inside my parts, an orange sold cattle tag hanging from my ear, the brand throbbing painfully as cum leaked out of my ass. I still had that lawyer's taste in my mouth and the smell of peppermint and ass invading my nostrils from the remnants of the "Dirty Santa" smeared under my nose.

Was there any truth to Bobby's words? My pussy was still wet and tingling. I was both terrified and sexually thrilled beyond belief. What had the Big D Slave Market done to me to bring out my sexual arousal, inflaming my slave heat? My pussy had remained sopping wet since walking through the front door. I was still not sated, mindlessly graving more sex. Yet again, what was wrong with me? How could I enjoy any part of this horror?

This morning I was happy, although very embarrassed, naked with my future mother-in-law helping me take care of my slave grading when my fiancé cancelled at the last minute. We were talking about my coming wedding to Calum, looking at a bright future. Who was Allison Stevens now?

This had felt as if I was in a surreal erotic bad dream, which I would eventually wake up from, right up until the moment I was branded. That attorney and the Big D staff showed me what it was like to be an unthinking pleasure slut. I had been sold, like an object, a car or a horse, on the auction block.

This was real! The branding drove it home; I was just a piece of property being permanently marked, as one would put their initials in a shirt or a pair of shoes. The person that owned me decided to brand me like they would treat a possession or thing, not a person to be cherished. I had no idea who bought me or how they were going to use me as I started silently crying.

I looked over at Lindsey wondering what her story was and if she was having some of the same thoughts as I. She appeared deep in thought, tears running down her cheeks. Sensing me staring at her she turned towards me. I felt fear, confusion and despair emanating from her. As we looked deeply into each other's eyes I saw understanding, gratitude and camaraderie as I hoped this was not the last time I would see her. We nodded and returned to our own deep thoughts.

Was I becoming a brainless pleasure slut, a slave that lived to please her master, to do all of the things that the master wants that I would never have considered before? In less than a day, my sexuality had transformed from a conservative private free woman to a perpetually horny slave. I was quickly aroused after getting naked when Amelia ran the riding crop over my body describing how hot I was.

It all took off when I squirted on the pussy post with Amelia. I was horny after the attorney used me; I was so aroused on the auction block when I had the most intense climax of my life. The three greatest orgasms of my existence occurred as a slave today and not during the previous three years with Calum. How was this possible? What was wrong with me?

Amelia had looked into my soul and told me I was a submissive, pointing out that my best sex was when I played the little slave girl for Calum. She was right about the sex, but was I really a submissive who needed a master to treat me as the pleasure slut I had become? I must be tired; I had not just perceived myself as becoming a pleasure slut but had instead mentally concluded that I was a pleasure slut. I fell asleep emotionally and physically exhausted, bound on my knees in a cage like an animal pondering that thought.

The jostling of my cage woke me from my slumber and I groggily looked around. Lindsey was gone. A slave handler was loading my cage onto a trolley. He then pulled me to a delivery van and pushed me into the back, which contained three other cages with three other gagged and handcuffed slave girls. It looked like early evening outside when he slammed the van doors closed leaving us in the dark and we were off.

The van made two stops en route to my final destination, each time unloading an occupied cage and then returning the cage without its former occupant. For the entire trip it felt as if I had my face in the ass of the girl in front of me or more precisely, the odors of the girl's ass to my front. I could smell her arousal knowing that I was not the only one suffering from slave heat.

My thoughts ranged over a number of topics. What had happened to Lindsey? She had been moved while I was sleeping and I wondered if I would ever see her again.

My more immediate concern was what happened to Amelia? My future father-in-law Glen Bedford was the principal owner of Bedford Holdings, the largest real estate developer in the state of Texas. Something was terribly wrong; Amelia obviously did not know I was being sold as she could easily purchase me with a flick of her wrist on her credit card. Had she exited the spa late only to find me sold or something worse, had she been in a car accident and was lying in a hospital? Would Calum ever be able to find me once I was sold? And, why was my cunt all tingly and dripping wet?

Then the van stopped. I could hear a gate opening, the van pulled forward, then backed up, stopped, the doors opened and my cage was slid down a ramp and pulled aside. The other occupied cage was pulled out and positioned next to mine. I turned towards the cage and saw Lindsey looking back at me with a relieved look in her eyes.

I had read about how female slaves revert to a sisterhood of shared experiences commonly referring to each other as "sister". We looked at each other in surprise and then relief as we both shed tears of happiness and smiles hidden under our slave grins. I now understood what that author had tried to describe.

Lindsey and I had shared winks at the pussy post, a hug, a touch on my thigh, hands holding each other, my few words in the chute, a blow job with Bobby, a kiss while being sodomized side by side bent over a table and I knew deep in my heart that she was my sister, and would be for the rest of my life. Our common experience transitioning from free women to slaves only reinforced that feeling, and now I felt that somehow having her here with me would help both of us make the transition to our new lives as slaves.

Two women appeared: a tall, fit black woman wearing khaki pants, boots, and a burgundy polo shirt with the Broadstone logo and the word "Security" underneath and a nametag identifying her as Lt. Mable Jones, and another large healthy woman similarly dressed. They and the driver loaded our cages onto trolleys, pulled us into a large garage or delivery port, and closed the doors.

"You are at the Broadstone Etiquette Academy in Dallas, Texas. Your new owner enrolled you at Broadstone for training as a Consort Companion. During the time you are here, you will be treated as a slave Consort Companion Trainee. I am required by law to tell you that the slave collar you will be fitted with can deliver a powerful and extremely painful electric shock if you attempt to leave this property without permission. Additionally, all Broadstone employees are authorized to use any means deemed necessary to compel you to comply with all orders given to you, and those means include electrical shock and whipping. If you follow my instructions, you will not be hurt. Do you understand?" announced Lt Jones, to which we both nodded in the affirmative.

Security Officer (SO) Robin Hays opened Lindsey's cage and directed her to crawl out onto a foam pad located to the front of the cage. Lindsey squirmed out of the cage and crawled forward until she was kneeling on the pad. SO Hays read Lindsey's SIN out loud while Lt Jones confirmed the number on her iPad and the shipping paperwork. Next, the sold cattle tag was removed and handed to Lt. Jones going with the paperwork. SO Hays then removed the collar Lindsey was wearing upon arrival and replaced it with a light-weight black collar that had the number "28" emblazoned on the front in red. Hays also removed the handcuffs and bit gag, returning all three items to the driver. While Hays worked Lt Jones spoke.

"You in the cage listen up, I do not want to repeat myself. You are each being fitted with a Broadstone slave collar. It has a GPS device in it so that we can track you on and off campus. It can also deliver different levels of electrical shock from low-level pain to rendering you unconscious. The number on your collar identifies you as a Consort Trainee," said Jones

While Jones spoke Hays had quickly opened my cage, motioned me to the foam pad next to Lindsey, replacing my collar with a Broadstone collar with the number "27" on it, and then removed my cattle tag, gag and handcuffs.

Pointing at Lindsey, Jones directed, "You will be addressed as Consort Trainee Twenty-eight, Trainee Twenty-eight or just Twenty-eight. You will address my security staff by their rank and last name and me as Lieutenant Jones. This is Security Officer Hays. The other free staff will be addressed as Mistress or Master. The Headmistress is Caroline Spalding and you will address her as Headmistress or Headmistress Spalding. Do you understand, Twenty-seven?" Lt. Jones asked, looking at me.

"Yes, Lt. Jones," I responded.

"And you Twenty-eight?" she directed to Lindsey

"Yes, Lt. Jones," Lindsey replied.

SO Hays read off my SIN to Lt. Jones and handed the collar, gag and cuffs to the driver who took them and the cages and left.

"If you need to use the facilities go there," instructed Lt. Jones pointing to a corner in the garage with an open toilet and sink. "You will wipe each other clean and wash each other's hands together; this is an exercise in teamwork. You have five minutes, move!"

We ran to the toilet with Lindsey going first. As we washed our hands, Lindsey washed off my Dirty Santa, freeing me from the peppermint/ass odor combination that had plagued me since leaving the break room at the Big D. We returned to our mats blushing in embarrassment finding a bottle of water sitting in front of each mat.

Seated in a chair two yards in front of us was an attractive woman in her mid-thirties who was fashionably dressed in three-inch heels, dark grey skirt, white blouse, a pearl necklace and her blonde hair pulled back in a bun.

"I am Assistant Headmistress Deanna Johnson; refer to me as Mistress Johnson. Your owners have sent you to Broadstone to become Consort Companions to a master with the goal of being mates for life. In well over ninety percent of our unions the slave consort marries her master or voluntarily renews her indenture, maintaining some aspect of the master consort dynamic. The vast majority of our couples procreate, raise their children and live happily as a family unit. There are numerous couples that evolve into a more traditional marital relationship as many of our consorts are not submissive. The master-consort relationship that we put you into is significantly different from the typical master-slave dynamic. Our goal is to foster a healthy relationship built on trust, empathy and compassion where the master and consort are in love with each other, often in a dominant/submissive understanding before the end of the indenture. Look at it as an arranged marriage with a slavery component," she explained.

"You may ask me a few questions when I am done. Our finishing school covers a wide variety of topics including the sexual arts, the art of conversation, how to cook healthy quality meals or gourmet meals, how to use a sand wedge in a bunker, pairing wine with a meal, how to deepthroat a large cock, how to organize a formal cocktail party, exercise and fitness, how to enjoy getting fucked in the ass, training in musical instruments, dungeon play, mindfulness, how to be a Ponygirl and effective discipline," she continued.

"We expect all of our consorts to complete their college education as our consorts are educated intelligent women. So for you, Twenty-eight, we will work with you to enroll you in some classes while here to keep you moving towards your degree. We train you to pleasure your master in the bedroom and make him proud to have you on his arm at business and social events and to raise his children," Mistress Johnson enlightened, pausing for emphasis.

"Do either of you know what Slave Mind is?" asked Mistress Johnson.

"Mistress, Slave Mind is a mental state that some slaves achieve where they become inherently obedient and submissive," answered Lindsey.

"You have part of it Twenty-eight. Prime slaves such as yourselves with a five-year indenture typically attend obedience school for four to eight weeks. These schools use a combination of sexual submission, sexual arousal often referred to as slave heat, along with a pain or pleasure discipline system to burn out your individuality or free self, leaving only your Slave Mind. Obedience and serving their masters becomes second nature for these slaves giving them pleasure. It is much like Stockholm syndrome, but in a slavery context where the slave identifies and attaches, or bonds, positively with the master. But this is only the first step in a pleasure slut's training. Why is that?" asked Mistress Johnson.

"Mistress, I do not understand, once sexually serving your master becomes a natural reflex you are a trained pleasure slut," I answered.

"No, being willing to sexually serve does not mean you are any good at it, Mistress" responded Lindsey, leaving me feeling inadequate.

"You are spot on Twenty-eight. Specialization comes next with slaves learning the sexual arts at schools such as the Venus Academy or Pearson Pussy Ranch. Some owners opt for alternatives such as the Lone Oak Equestrian Academy where slaves are trained as Ponygirl pleasure sluts. All of these schools refine their student's Slave Minds further eliminating any remaining uniqueness. Many graduates of these schools never fully recover their individuality upon manumission, instead ..." continued Mistress Johnson, until interrupted by Lindsey.

"Dr. Nicola Sheldon included two chapters on Slave Mind in the book she co-authored, "Psychological Impact of Slavery". I remember there was one whole chapter devoted to examining courses of treatment for former slaves suffering from Slave Mind," blurted out a now visibly worried Lindsey.

"Let me be very clear here, you are slaves, you will be obedient and we are training you to submit to your masters as needed. That includes not speaking out of turn or interrupting your betters. Do you understand Twenty-eight?" asked Mistress Johnson, while coldly staring at Lindsey.

"Mistress, please excuse my outburst," meekly asked Lindsey.

Now I was getting scared, feeling suddenly nauseous. At times at the Big D the sexual exhilaration of that place seemed to overwhelm me, especially when chasing orgasms, I felt like I was being possessed by another person. Was I succumbing to Slave Mind on my very first day of slavery?

"Your apology is accepted. Here at Broadstone we do not use Slave Mind, instead preferring that our slaves retain their individuality, your personal uniqueness that makes each of you who you are. Here we have a slave psychiatrist on retainer along with our resident doctor to assist our students with a healthy transition from free women to slaves. We do teach a set of specialized skills to include the sexual arts that build upon and complement your distinctiveness," explained Mistress Johnson. "Do you have a comment or question Twenty-eight?"

"Thank god for that, reading about Slave Mind really spooked me in school, Mistress" exclaimed a visibly relieved Lindsey.

"The two of you probably had dreams of your futures. Personal and career goals that you hoped to achieve in your lives. All of those dreams are over now that you are slaves. You have to accept this new reality, adapting by creating new dreams that fit within the construct of our program. If you opt out of our program, you may be able to pick up on your dreams and goals in five years when you are once again free women if you survive your slavery with your faculties intact. Do you understand?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress Johnson," Lindsey and I responded.

"Mistress, may this lowly slave ask a question?" I asked.

"Here at Broadstone we cherish your unique individuality. We do not use slave speech as it is a tool used to reinforce Slave Mind. Do not use it again, you will be punished if you do. Both of you consider yourselves warned," responded Mistress Johnson. "What is your question Twenty-seven?"

"This morning while on display I overheard a Broadstone graduate state that this school saved her life making her a stronger, more confident woman. Later she kindly told me that if I had the opportunity to attend this school that I should take it and join an elite sisterhood that took care of its own. I am confused about how a school for slaves makes them stronger and more confident. How do slaves take care of their own?" I asked.

"You received some good advice and those are good questions. Our graduates become the wives of many of the wealthy and elite in society. Many go on to successful professional positions in business, government and academia as well. Broadstone graduates are loyal to each other creating incredible networking opportunities. Remember, Broadstone is an opportunity that you have to embrace due to the permanence of the consort arrangement. You need to make new visions for your future that fit within this construct in order to take advantage of this extraordinary opportunity," she explained.

"Mistress, your answer implies that we have a choice? How do slaves get to choose their destiny?" asked Lindsey.

"We have had a few slaves that have fought the permanence of the relationship we foster here so now you have to voluntarily agree to participate in this program. You will be disposed of if you do not agree. We either find you a good master or send you back to the Big D for sale. Your owner outbid other individuals today that were going to use you as mindless sex toys or worse. You will be processed and given a one month orientation on our program so that you fully understand what is expected of you as a consort. We believe that although the program sells itself many young women are not a good fit for permanent matching. They often opt out of our program. We want you to make an informed decision as you will likely be expected to extend your period of enslavement for two to three years when you opt into the Broadstone consort program. Do you understand that you will have the choice to stay or leave?" asked Mistress Johnson.

"Yes, Mistress Johnson," Lindsey and I responded.

"Broadstone regularly turns away young women who come to us who do not meet our standards, knowing their indenture is inevitable, seeking voluntary indenture as a consort. These women beg us to take them into our program because the life of a consort is significantly safer than the uncertainty of the auction block. It is a privilege to be here with the opportunity to join an elite sisterhood," expounded Mistress Johnson.

Mistress Johnson reminded me of Natasha's advice that if given the opportunity to become part of an exclusive sisterhood at Broadstone I should do so. More specifically, that the training Natasha received shaped her into a stronger, more confident woman. It dawned upon me what a privilege for slaves in our position it was to be allowed, even encouraged, to retain our individuality, our personal uniqueness that makes each of us who we are. There was also a personal cost as we would be expected to extend our slavery. How would this actually work I wondered?

"The two of you will be paired together for the entire month and likely for the full program. You will sleep together, bathe and groom each other, and even diddle each other when horny for the entire time you are here. You are forbidden to masturbate. For the first week or two you will feed each other, brush each other's teeth, and wipe each other after going to the bathroom. Do you understand what is required of you?" asked Mistress Johnson.