The Seven Masters I Served

The following is intended purely as sexual fantasy, not a reflection of a desired reality. Any parallels to real stories are a coincidence.

Trigger Warning: Some elements of abuse. Contains extreme objectification/dehumanization.

Master #1, The Brat

I go by Winnie. It's short for Winifred.

My first master, at least my first one after my schooling, was, well, it was a little confusing at first. A middle aged man picked me up in a minivan, and I had just assumed that he was my new master. He was so excited to see me, practically bouncing up and down, smiling, asking my name. He even opened the door for me. He talked throughout the drive to his house. It felt like ninety words a second. All he could talk about was his son, Raphael, who they called Ralphy (He liked that we both shortened our names), and how little Ralphy was so much smarter than the other kids, and could do no wrong, and was kind, and wise, and on and on.

The way he talked I thought little Ralphy was eight or ten years old, so you can imagine my surprise when an adult man met us at the house.

It was a lovely house, perhaps upper-middle class. Ralphy's father was a manager for some commercial company or something, which explains how he could afford me. Ralphy's mom was there, but I don't remember her talking too much and I never saw her again after that day. Anyway, Ralphy looked me over in the driveway - I was a surprise. He walked around me, glancing up and down, frowning the whole time.

"She's kind of frumpy." He said to his father.

"She's the prettiest one they had, Ralphy. I'm sure she'll be good to have around." His father explained hurriedly. His dad was nervous, tired, almost worried - like the only thing he had ever wanted was his son's approval. It kind of had me up in knots, because if Ralphy didn't like me, I thought I might be punished by the dad. I wanted badly to make a good impression on my first master. Ralphy eventually relented. He shrugged.

"She's kind of pretty, I guess." Ralphy said. His father let out a sigh of relief.

"I told you so. She's well trained too! She'll cook, clean... keep you warm." The middle-aged dad winked and nudged his son's shoulder. Ralphy just rolled his eyes.

"Gross, dad. Just get her to load my stuff."

I did as I was told, loading the little minivan with Ralphy's suitcases and knick-knacks. I picked up snippets of conversation as I worked, and deduced the situation. Ralphy had recently graduated highschool, and I was his college send-off gift.

Apparently, Ralphy was god's gift to university. I was forced to listen as dad raved on and on about Ralphy:

'Oh I'm sure the professors will love you.'

'Tell us about all the friend's you'll make.'

'Don't let the women up there distract you from your studies, you know how women are crazy about you.'

'Dean's list for sure!!'

I was young and nervous, too nervous to have an opinion - it was all brand new. But hindsight gives me clarity. If I were to hear that same kind of stuff today, especially knowing what I know, my eyes would be rolling out of my head. Dad just didn't know a thing about his little Ralphy.

Before long we were loaded in the car and travelling. The ride was intensely awkward. He'd put on his music and sing along, he'd listen to podcasts with some... colorful... opinions. At one point he glanced over at me, and I guess I'd drawn his attention in at least one way.

"How big are your tits?" He certainly had a way with words.

"36D, sire." I replied.

"36... that's big, right? Nice." I glanced sidelong at him, not sure if he was serious. He had a smug, self-assured smile. I didn't bother to explain it to him. This did not bode well.

We stopped for gas. Ralphy stepped into the convenience store, saying nothing to me.

I had to pee. I knew it was punishable to act without your master's orders, but I was waiting in the car while he did god-knows-what inside. I was so stupid then. I was so desperate to make a good impression, I almost didn't go in and pee. In the end, I took my terrified ass inside and found the ladies' room.

While relieving myself, I vividly imagined him coming back to the car to find it vacant, and activating the tracker that all slaves have. He'd find me in the bathroom and yell at me for embarrassing him. Some masters were like that, I knew, and I had no idea what Ralphy would do. But I had to go.

...Anyway, I was back in the car before him.

It was almost dark when we pulled up at the university dorms. Ralphy had me unload all of his stuff, up a flight of stairs, alone, while he walked around the campus. He wasn't around when I finished, so I found his comforter and sheets and I made his bed. I placed his soaps and shampoos in the shower, and hung his clothes in the closet. I did everything I could to make his little dorm seem like home. God I was pathetic. I wanted so badly to make a good impression. When I was done, I sat on the bed and waited obediently for my master's return. I lay on one side, doing my best to look seductive, propping myself up with one arm and laying the other across my hip.

I was fresh out of training then, and so eager to please. Sex was something I was eager about too. I loved the idea of pleasuring my master, of being seductive and sought after. I wanted to be sexy and alluring, to be the best pleasure slave ever. One of many fantasies thrown away with time and experience.

It was all wasted on Ralphy, of course. When he came back to the dorm, he just kind of grumbled at me to get off his bed, and he collapsed on it. I curled up on the couch. The creaky, dusty old loveseat was my bed for the remainder of my time with Ralphy.

I awoke first in the morning. I thought about making breakfast, but the little dorm room kitchen wasn't stocked yet (this would become a common trend), so I just sat and waited. Ralphy woke up almost two hours after me. He rolled over, eyes closed, and started stroking himself. I could clearly see the comforter jerking up and down, but I said nothing. I wasn't moving until ordered. He took about five minutes to remember I existed. One eye popped open, and he looked over at me.

"So you have to do whatever I want, right?" He asked. I nodded dumbly, still eager to please.

"Yes sire."

"Even like, sexual stuff?"

"I would be happy to pleasure you, sire." Came the programmed response.

"Come suck on this." He pulled his penis out and showed it to me.

What a gentleman. I was so nervous, so anxious and excited. All for someone who put zero effort into anything himself. I approached the bed and knelt next to him, and he just sort of turned on his side and poked his dick out. I took it in my mouth and sucked it enthusiastically. I was set on making a good first impression. He tasted bad, kind of stale and salty, but I didn't care. The young me thought I was a hotshot pleasure slave, and I was gonna rock his world. I started by running my lips over the head, then licking the bottom, then taking the whole thing in my mouth. He thrust out at me, and I pushed my head down on the shaft further, fighting the need to gag. I worked my mouth and tongue over the length of him like a champ. It was very unpleasant.

Luckily, he didn't last long. He came in my mouth, and then rolled over and went back to sleep. I admit I sat there for an embarrassingly long amount of time with his cum in my mouth. I'd been taught that some masters would prefer it if I swallowed, and some would prefer I didn't swallow. So I had expected one or the other. Ralphy was asleep, so me, being young and stupid, sat frozen. I eventually settled on swallowing, and I haltingly choked down the young man's semen.

This disappointment set a precedent for the majority of my sexual encounters with Ralphy.

I won't go too much into detail about the rest of my time with him. I belonged to him, well, belonged to his father technically, for a little more than three months. In that time I don't think I saw him study even once. The fridge was empty most of the time. My meals were usually his leftovers, because feeding me was a chore he didn't care to do, which was how he handled most obligations. He was in his own dorm increasingly less as summer turned to autumn. He'd leave for a day or two, come back to sleep. Maybe he'd fuck me, or make me blow him, and then he'd head out again - a pile of dirty clothes and a bad taste we're the only things he left behind. Once he brought back a girl, and of course the dorm was immaculate when he came back, which impressed her.

"Wow, it's so clean here." She said.

"Yeah, I got a slave to do that." He pointed to me, sitting obediently on the couch. I always sat at attention, my head down. It was proper slave form, but Ralphy wouldn't have cared if I'd been upside down with a bag on my head. Anyway, that was the closest he ever came to saying anything positive about me. The girl thought he was so cool.

"Whoa, your own slave? That's rad. How much was she?"

"Two Hundred and forty thousand." He lied.

He scored that night, for the only time that I knew of (with someone other than me). They were watching a movie, and they started getting hot and heavy making out. I was just sitting on the couch doing my thing, counting fibers in the rug, and the girl stopped, looked at me, and asked:

"Is she just gonna watch us or what?" Ralphy laughed, and barked out an order.

"Go wait in the bathroom." He didn't tell me for how long. I slept in the tub that night. Bathtubs are cold, hard, and very uncomfortable. In the morning, she came in to use the bathroom. She stopped when she saw me, grimaced, and left. I wonder what she was thinking.

It was all downhill from there for Ralphy.

A couple weeks before winter break, He got a phone call from his dad. I couldn't hear much, but it was pretty bad. A lot of yelling, something about academic suspension, and a hundred grand 'In a pig's ass' whatever that means. The call ended, Ralphy sat down on his bed... and started to cry. Like real tears, sobbing and everything. It was so pathetic, I actually felt bad for him. Not bad for him per se, but more for the flawed parenting that no doubt led to him being such a, uh, difficult young man. I kind of froze on the couch when he broke down. I didn't know if I should try to comfort him or not.

I mean I know I should have, but I didn't really want to.

He eventually cried himself to sleep.

The next day, Ralphy's dad showed up at the door. I was ordered to load all of Ralphy's stuff back in Ralphy's minivan, and I was placed in the car with his dad. That was it. I never saw Ralphy again, and no explanation was ever offered to me. He drove for about three hours with me that day, and the whole ride was spent ranting and complaining about what a shitbag his son was. About how he'd poured his life into Ralphy, given the boy everything, and what a disappointment it was. I said nothing.

We pulled into a supermarket parking lot just before evening and waited. Not long after, another car pulled up next to us, a nice luxury SUV. A tall, well dressed man stepped out. Ralphy's dad joined him, and ordered me to do the same. The well dressed man looked me over in the same way Ralphy did when I met him.

"Can you cook?" He asked me.

"Yes sir." I replied.

"Are you good with children?"

"Yes sir." This was the truth, I had many younger siblings. The man talked with Ralphy's dad a little bit longer, and they did some paperwork on the hood of the car. I was informed that the well dressed man was my new owner. Ralphy's dad then promptly hopped in his car and left, almost peeling out he exited in such a hurry. The well dressed man offered me his hand.

"I'm Michael," He said. "My wife, who you'll meet once we're home, is Annie. We'll be your new masters. Of course, my kids will be the real masters!" He laughed out loud at his own joke.

Master #2, The Family From Heaven

Michael drove me through an unfamiliar city. He explained to me the set up. I was being purchased to fill a need as a nanny to his and Annie's kids, aged five and seven. He told me I would be living in their guest room, cooking their meals, cleaning during the day, and ensuring the children were doing homework and keeping their rooms clean once they got home from school.

To be honest, I was overjoyed. Compared to Ralphy, this sounded like a complete dream job. My heart was fluttering with excitement. It was too good to be true.

That's what I was thinking as Michael started to sweat, and shake just a little, and his voice started catching in his throat. He began to explain, clearly and awkwardly, that I was not a pleasure slave, and that any sexual advance on my part towards him would be met with fierce punishment. He reiterated that he and his wife were firmly against that sort of 'harlotry' as he put it. I nodded and 'Yes sire'd my way through the conversation. It was odd, for sure, but I definitely didn't want to ruin my perfect new job by questioning my new master.

That talk is why I was so confused when he pulled up to a hotel, booked a room for us, and then once inside he immediately ordered me to strip naked.

Do you sense the conflict here?

I hesitated, but I had to comply with his orders. Was it some kind of weird test, that he was telling me not to make any kind of sexual advance, and then ordering me to strip in front of him? I was terrified as I began to remove my clothing, piece by piece, until I was completely naked. It's not that I minded, after all, I was trained for this, but the whole situation felt very off. Michael stood about six feet in front of me in the hotel room, sweating and shaking as he dropped his own trousers. His eyes were locked on to my body, roaming over my legs, my private parts, and my breasts. He continued to shake and sweat as he pulled his penis out, and began to masturbate while still staring at me. I didn't do anything - after all I had been ordered not to - I just stood still and waited. He continued to stare at my naked body and jerk off until finally he came, his eyes closing and his arm resting on the back of a chair to keep from collapsing to his knees. He shot a few spurts of cum on the carpet between us. After a couple of seconds, he spoke.

"Clean that up. I'm going to take a shower." I did my best with a box of tissues provided by the hotel. When he returned from the shower, he grilled me:

"When my wife asks if we had sex, what are you going to tell her?" He demanded. Like a switch, I understood the dynamic at play. I understood why he had not touched me nor allowed me to touch him.

"I will tell her we did not have sex, sire." I replied. Michael smiled.

"Good girl. I think you'll do just fine in this family."

I have to say, I've been in quite a few degrading situations. Sexually speaking, I've been with many men and women. None of that has come close to how uncomfortable Michael made me feel. That night, he slept on the bed, and I slept on the floor in a 'cot' made from blankets and pillows.

We left in the morning for his home. We made one stop, at a chain store, where he allowed me to pick out several outfits, which was already more thoughtful than Ralphy Jr. The rest of the ride was lovely. The city faded into rolling hills and big green pastures. Quaint wooden bridges stood over small babbling brooks. The view from the car window was fertile farmland as far asI could see. It was gorgeous.

Michael and his wife, Annabelle, lived in a lovely home in the country. Their house was surrounded by grassy hillsides grazed by cows. A single large oak stood by the house. Well, I called it 'Heaven' in secret, but anyway, they had a rope swing, and this sweet little creek that rolled by the bottom of the hill on which the house sat. It had this surreal feel, like it was just a perfect place.

Michael introduced me to his children, Rebecca, age seven, and Michael Jr, aged five. Both of the kids were shy at first, and they ran off quickly into the house to hide. Michael's wife didn't waste any time in quizzing us, as I suspected she would not. The short, stout woman watched me closely, and asked questions tersely.

"Did you have a nice trip?" She asked him.

"Yes darling," He replied.

"You got a hotel, didn't you? How did you sleep? Were there two beds?" She asked, almost manic. A forced smile crept across her face, but her eyes spoke of something more unhinged.

"She slept on the floor, darling," Michael said. Annie looked at me, completely distrusting him. I just looked at the floor. I was *for sure* not going to speak until spoken to.

"Did he make you sleep on the floor, girl?" She asked.

"Yes madam," I replied. Her strange uneasiness was replaced instantly by a more sincere concern.

"Oh Michael! You're so thoughtless. Of course he'd skimp on a two-bed hotel room. She's a slave, dear, not a dog! Come on, er, what was your name?"

"Winnifred, madam, but I answer to Winnie," I replied. I was careful here. Saying 'I go by Winnie,' would be a slip, because it would seem like I was telling her what to call me. My phrasing was much more friendly. If Annie turned out to be a temperamental master, I wanted to be on her good side. She smiled, took my hand, and led me through the house.

"Winnie it is! I'll show you around then. You can relax, Michael."

Annie led me from room to room in their gorgeous country house. I was in the guestroom and the children had their own play room adjacent. As we went by the children's rooms, both of them were forced to come to the door, tell me their name, and shake my hand. Michael Jr. simply couldn't handle meeting a stranger, and after shaking my hand, ran and dove into his bed, pulling up his covers. Annie shook her head and tutted.

"He's so shy dear, but they'll warm up. You'll love them, really!" I smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes madam, I'm sure I will." I was ecstatic. The whole set up seemed just absolutely ideal for a slave. Only two children to care for and a lovely home, which was already quite clean. My duties would be easy, my housing was generous, my masters were kind. It seemed perfect.

Of course my owners were, you know, eccentric, in more ways than one. While showing me my room (Which had its own bathroom), Annie cornered me, literally, and put both of her hands on my shoulders. I backed up until the wall pressed into my shoulders, and looked down at her. I was almost six inches taller than her, but I was terrified. She was strong, and her determination made me feel like she towered over me. Her wild eyed look came back, and she stared straight through my soul as she spoke.

"Did he fuck you?" She almost spat.

"N-no madam." I felt sick with fear.

"Did he finger you? Make you suck him with your little mouth?" I felt spit on my neck as she hissed at me, never breaking eye contact. I chose my words very carefully.

"No Madam. I did not touch him. He did not touch me. I swear it." She seemed to calm down a bit, backing up a bit and taking her hands off my shoulders. I almost passed out.

"Good... good. You'll do fine here, Winnie." She smiled briefly. "You're a good girl. Not some hussy." She faked a laugh. I forced an awkward chuckle, a terrified smile plastered on my face. Annie moved on as if nothing happened.

"I hear you can cook, dear. Would you whip us up something in the kitchen? We've got ingredients for chilli, I think.,. Maybe veggie soup...." She trailed off as she walked back towards the kitchen. I took a moment. Breathed a couple of times, grounded myself. I thought about the hotel room, Michael standing across from me with his trousers around his knees, hand on his dick, just... devouring my naked body, and his eyes. My stomach dropped into a pit. I would have to be careful if I wanted to make my time last in this little slice of heaven. His lust was dangerous for both of us.