The Seven Masters I Served

When she came, her convulsions pushed out a little bit more cum, which I licked up for her. She looked down at me, smiling.

"I'm so fucking glad we bought you." She said with a heavy breath. I kissed her labia gently, and laid my head on her thigh, licking her gently. It was a fantastic day.

It was after another threesome one night when Sandy told me. She lay back against Gary's chest, playing with herself slowly when she spoke to me.

"Go ahead and pack your things tonight. We're selling you tomorrow." I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt my feelings at first. I felt like maybe we had connected somewhat in our time together, but obviously that was not the case. Looking back on it, I'm not surprised. All I was to them was sex, and I had been fine with that. It had been the arrangement from the start.

Still, she didn't have to go through a slave catalog in the car on the way to sell me.

"This one's lovely!" She said, holding up the magazine for Gary to see. He turned a blinker on, checked his mirrors, and glanced at the photos Sandy was showing him.

"Hmm, she's a cutie." He replied, as monotone as ever.

"This time, let's go for something a little younger. Thinner too." Sandy continued. I stared silently out the window for the duration of the trip.

Master #5, Mello's Bar and Grill

We pulled into a restaurant's parking lot just before dark. A tired looking man waved at us as we came in. He was dressed in a nice polo shirt that read 'Mello's Bar and Grill'. Gary and Sandy waved back. We parked, they talked, and the man handed Gary a check. They shook hands, and I never saw Gary or Sandy again.

The tired man led me inside quietly. The guy, who I later learned was Mello, didn't introduce himself. He took me to a cot in a back room of the restaurant. The little bed was crowded by storage shelves laden with cleaning chemicals and dimly lit by a single bare light bulb suspended from the ceiling.

"I won't be here in the morning. Sasha'll train you." He walked out of the room, leaving me standing amongst the bleach and detergent.

I slept fitfully that night, and was pretty cold. The mattress was hard (It barely existed at all) and he had forgotten to leave me a blanket of any kind. I felt like I had just barely fallen asleep when the door to my little room opened and flooded me with fluorescent light.

"Oh fuck! Damn it Mello." A young woman stared down at me. Her collared shirt was emblazoned with the same name as the one worn by the tired man last night, 'Mello's Bar and Grill.'. She was kind of pretty in a cold way. Her makeup was perfect, and her eyes were narrowed at me.

"I guess you're Dinnie's replacement. I wish he'd fucking tell me when he gets a new slave." She continued. "Come on. I'll get you started rolling some silverware."

There's a lot to unpack here, from a slaves' perspective. I wasn't completely sure who my master was, but from context clues, I assumed it was the man I'd met last night. I could have been wrong of course, but without more information I'd never be sure. If this woman was my new master, I wouldn't want to risk offending her by speaking out of line. I had to guess.

"Are you Sasha? My master told me to go with her." The woman rolled her eyes, grabbing a bottle of cleaning chemical off the shelf by my bed.

"Yeah." I followed her obediently through the kitchen of the restaurant, drawing stairs from several other people. She took me to the front of the restaurant and briefly showed me how to roll the silverware, and left me with a pile.

I won't spend too much time on the restaurant. They had me for over a year, but each day was basically the same. While I did make some friends, I was the only slave, and I never got very close to anyone. I worked as a busgirl for several months, and was pulled into serving when the restaurant had staffing problems. The man I had met on the first night was in fact Mello, the owner of the place. He wasn't around much though, so most of my orders came from Sasha, who seemed more often frustrated that she had to deal with me.

I honestly enjoyed some of it. It was nice living there, once I got a blanket, and I made myself valuable. More than a couple of times the restaurant would have collapsed if I hadn't been there. I worked from the time I woke up until I went to sleep, and since I lived in the storage room, I opened in the morning and closed in the evening. I saw dozens of waiters and cooks come and go in that time, the only people who remained a constant were Mello and Sasha. It wasn't too bad, I suppose. Of course, Mello took the first decent offer someone made on me.

He grabbed my wrist tightly, hurting me. I was so startled I didn't react for a second. The slave girl seated beside him stared at the menu intently, as if trying not to be noticed. He whispered to me through gritted teeth.

"Fetch your owner. I want to speak with them." He let go. Instinctively, I back up a few steps, clutching my throbbing forearm. He stared at me, and I quickly turned and ran into the kitchen. I fetched Mello, and that was that.

I was a tool for profit, after all. So that's how I found myself being pulled from the middle of a slow lunch crowd out to the parking lot, where Mello had me take off my apron and turn in my 'Mello's Bar and Grill' shirt, right off my body.

Master #6, The Madman and the Captive

My new master ordered me into the car brusquely. I didn't question him, climbing into the back seat to find I was not alone. The young slave sat next to me. I waved to her with a smile, and she looked away. I thought that was odd. She was very pretty, and very cold. She seemed to almost retract when I climbed in. Before long, our master was back in the car and we were moving. I thought I'd try another attempt at friendship with my fellow slave.

"Hi there. What's your name?" I asked quietly. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. Confused, I pressed. "I'm Winnie. Are you okay?"

Frantically, she shook her head and put a finger over her lips, shushing me quietly.

But it was too late. The car was coming to a stop on the side of the road, and he was at my door, pulling it open and roughly grabbing me by the hair. He yanked me violently out of the vehicle, and though I tried to keep on my feet, the force with which he pulled brought me to the ground. My knees were pressed hard into the gravel as he twisted my head cruelly around to face him. Inches from my face, he breathed his words out as a hiss.

"Don't... ever... speak unless ordered to," He held me for a second longer, and the pain in my neck and head made my eyes start to water. My heart beat quickly, and I feared I might pass out. "You will say 'I understand, master,'" He ordered in a shaky voice.

"I understand, master." My words were choked and tearful, but I was terrified of the consequences if I did not reply. He shoved my head towards the ground, walking purposefully back to the driver's seat. I had only a second to recover before I heard his car door close, and I had to scramble inside. I was scared he would leave me, and while I certainly wanted to be away from him, making him come back to get me would definitely result in punishment.

Back in the car, the young slave girl gave me a sad look. I shrugged, and though I wanted to thank her for trying, I knew I couldn't say anything. I reached over and set my hands on hers quietly. She instinctively pulled her hand away, looking confused. I wanted badly to tell her I didn't blame her, but she wouldn't have it. I tried to stop the bleeding from my knees with napkins left in my pocket.

For the rest of the car ride, I fought back tears. I was experienced enough to handle this, I told myself. This would be difficult, but I would make it through. I did my best to prepare myself mentally for belonging to a slave's worst nightmare. I tried to think about what I would have to do to survive. Hopefully, my time with him would be as temporary as my other masters, and I wouldn't have to stay with him for life. I shivered, imagining that. I had to push the idea of a life with him out of my head, and figure out what he wanted. I just had to keep him happy to make it through this.

I looked over to the pretty young girl sitting next to me. She sat with her shoulders slumped and her eyes on the floor. My hope was that I would get a chance to speak with her. No doubt she would be helpful in figuring this guy out. I was immensely gratified not to be doing this alone.

His lawn was perfectly manicured. The hedges were trimmed perfectly. Nothing was out of place in his picturesque three story estate. It looked expensive, and I had no doubt his occupation was lucrative. We parked in his garage, and he silently stepped out. The other girl followed him wordlessly, so I copied her as best as I could.

Similar to the outside of his house, the inside was immaculate. It felt very empty. The walls were decorated, yes, there were furnishings in the house, and things you'd expect to find. It took me a little bit to realise exactly what was missing: A mess. Any kind of mess. No dirt, no clutter, no shoes thrown to the side or junkmail set carelessly on a table. Even the cleanest people often have some small such clutter somewhere, but this master did not. The house was cold, perfect, and I would learn, cruel.

He went straight, and his slave veered off from following him, turning left. Though I was conflicted, I followed her, doing my best to wordlessly ascertain what he wanted from me. She walked to a staircase, up to the second floor, and wordlessly into the master bedroom. Here she began to open dressers and pull out clothes, laying out on the bed boxers, an undershirt, and a bathrobe. On the floor in front of the bed, she sat a pair of cerulean slippers. I was unhelpful for her, since I didn't have a clue what she was doing or how to help.

When she was done, she went to the adjacent bathroom and knelt by the shower. I followed her in and hesitated. I didn't know what was going on, or how to do what he wanted. I decided to risk speaking a second time.

"What do I do?" I whispered frantically. This time, she actually replied.

"I don't know. Kneel next to me." She briefly pointed at the tile next to her. I did what she said. She continued to whisper.

"He doesn't give orders. He expects you to know. I'll try to help you."

"How did you know..." I gestured to the master bedroom, then to us.

"It's time for a shower. This is how he likes his showers. If he has to explain anything, explanations come with punishment. I'm so sorry." We heard footfalls in the hallway, and she fell abruptly silent. He entered the bedroom, then the bathroom. Ignoring both of us, he stripped down and left his clothes on the floor. We both sat silently while he opened the door to the shower and entered. As soon as the water was on, the girl was up in a flash, collecting his clothes, and tossing them down a laundry chute by the door. As quick as she was up, she was back down, kneeling next to me on the floor. I made a mental note. I had a lot to learn. I decided to risk it one more time. Leaning fractionally closer to her, and hoping the shower would drown any sound, I whispered.

"What's your name?"

"Kate." She whispered back. We both were quiet again.

Kate and I fixed him a meal. She cooked and prepared everything while I followed along, trying to be helpful. For the most part I wasn't, because we couldn't talk and I had no idea what she was doing.

She knew exactly what he wanted. She laid out his meal, stood silently by while he ate, cleared the table, brought him dessert, all precisely to his liking, all without a word.

He watched T.V. while we stood by, I assumed we were awaiting orders. At exactly nine, and completely unannounced, he turned off whatever show he was watching and went to bed. Kate showed me to the room next door to him, which I gathered is where she slept.

"Are we...:" I whispered, pointing to his room. She shook her head, flicking her eyes up to a camera in the corner. I was in disbelief, looking at the little red dot. This cannot be serious, I thought.

Kate changed into a set of pajamas, and remembering me, she set me up with flannel pants and a shirt. Crawling into bed, she frantically motioned for me to do the same. I did wordlessly. Once in bed, with the light off, she rolled over to face me, away from the camera.

"He doesn't always watch," She whispered. "But sometimes he does. We have to be careful." I nodded, trying to take mental notes.

"Do you know why he bought me?" I asked. She shook her head.

"He NEVER deviates from his schedule. Buying you is extremely weird. I'll try to keep you safe. Just do what I do. And remember, don't talk."

Most activities went the exact same way. He'd walk to a room, or outdoors, or to the car, and just... expect us to know what to do. Kate, for the most part, had a good idea what he expected of us. I gathered she had been with him a while, and had picked things up the hard way. She predicted most of his needs with brilliant timing. I was just along for the ride. His days were strictly regimented and identical. I tried to learn the pattern quickly.

He'd wake up at 7:15 AM. We already had his clothes laid out for him from the laundry the previous day. He'd dress while we cooked breakfast, always two eggs and toast, sunnyside up. A glass of orange juice, and then we had his shoes ready by the door, and I held his briefcase for him. If he was in a good mood, he'd pat one of us on the head and say we did a good job. Then he'd leave for the day. It was during this time that we finally relaxed. We'd do dishes, laundry, and feed ourselves, then clean.

Cleaning was dull and repetitive, but it was our favorite time of the day because he wasn't around. We wiped down, vacuumed, and dusted every square inch of the house. I was confident he would never find out if we didn't clean the same empty room every single day, but Kate was manic and insistent. We cleaned every room, every day, no matter what. She was very clear. I didn't ask, but I assumed at some point she had skipped a room, and somehow he had found out.

In the limited time we talked, I learned he was her first and only master. She told me his name was William Henry, and she only knew that because she had seen his mail. She was not a pleasure slave, but she expressed that I likely had been brought in for that reason - William had made enquiries for some time about a slave used for pleasure.

This became obvious on the second day. We had laid out his clothes for a shower, exactly the same as we had the day before, and both knelt in the bathroom to wait for him. He had walked in, exactly the same as the previous day, and removed his clothes. However, instead of going to the shower, he grabbed my wrist, dragging me to the bedroom. Kate did not follow, staring at me from the bathroom where she knelt. She did not look surprised, but sad; She had felt his wrath this same way before.

He took me to the bed and pitched me onto it, on my back, and began to pull off my clothes. I did my best to help him get them off, reaching down to pull the waistband of my pants down my thighs. Serious as the grave, he grabbed my hand, squeezing hard. My finger was bent in an awkward way, and I was terrified he might hurt it more permanently. Pain shot through me as he squeezed. I said nothing as he glared at me. I fought tears as he continued to crush my hand.

"Don't touch anything," He whispered. "Just fucking don't." In a few seconds, he had my pants off with his free hand. Only then did he release me, and I audibly gasped in relief. He bristled at the sound, but seemed to let it slide. My fingers were tender and sprained, unable to move without pain.

Roughly, he pushed my legs up to my shoulders. I wrapped my hands under my thighs, holding them out of his way, despite the pain in my fingers. He pushed his cock into me, completely dry, and we both winced in pain. Had I been allowed to talk, I would have explained to spit on it, or get some lube or something, but I was made to suffer with him as he forced his dry cock into my dry vagina. It hurt, but I grit my teeth. He began to awkwardly hump me, and the pain from the friction of the sex made me want to chastice him for his foolish inexperience, but I knew how that would turn out. He fucked me quietly for what felt like twenty minutes, and I bore it obediently. This was a far cry from the good times I had with Sandy and Gary, and was most definitely, without a doubt, the worst sex I've ever had. When he came, he groaned and shuddered, shooting inside of me. For a few seconds he Stayed on top of me, breathing heavily. He then withdrew, heading to his shower and, I assumed, resuming the normal course of the evening.

I watched him go, slightly confused as to what I should do next, but I saw Kate attempting to subtly signal me from the bathroom while he showered. She mimed wiping herself, and I understood, she thought he would want me to clean up. Not that I planned to just leave his cum inside me.

But anyway, I cleaned up as quickly as I could with some toilet paper, then retrieved my clothes, holding them up to Kate, as if to ask if I should wear them. She nodded, I dressed, and all was well. He finished his day in his normal routine.

When we talked about it the next day, Kate explained to me exactly what we would need to do. She knew William better than I ever would, so I listened intently as she explained:

"While I prepare his clothes for his shower, you will strip yourself and lie on the bed. He likely wants you completely naked, and you should hide your clothes so he won't see them. Pull your legs to your chest in the exact same way he positioned them last night, and find some kind of lubricant, or he'll probably be angry that sex doesn't feel very good with you."

"I can do that. How do you know this stuff?" I asked.

"I'm guessing. That's all you can do here. If you guess wrong, he'll hurt you."

"I'm nervous." I replied. Kate nodded resolutely, squaring her jaw.

"I'll try to help. I can make it easier on you." She asserted.

"Kate, I don't know what I'd do without you." Kate looked at me, her hollow eyes and pale face telling the story of a long and weary journey.

"It would be hell." She explained. "It was for me."

It was a weird and horrible situation. First off, he was such a manchild that he didn't know that lubrication was essential to sex (Kate explained later that our first time together was likely also his first time). He also refused to communicate in any constructive way, leaving us guessing at literally everything he wanted. Kate was good at it, I was not.

The man was deeply unhinged. But Kate had been correct. He didn't want to talk to us, or show us what he wanted - he just wanted us to know. Luckily, Kate was pretty in tune with him, and the nightly sex sessions became a part of our schedule. He even smiled when entering me the second night, as he discovered I'd lubed myself. That may honestly have been the only time I ever saw him smile. The sex still wasn't great, but it was a good deal more tolerable.

One morning, I forgot his orange juice. I didn't forget to pour him a glass, I just forgot to bring it at the proper time. I realised it as soon as he sat down, and I left to retrieve it. When I returned, Kate was on her knees, tears streamed down her face. She looked up at him, dead silent, not pleading or begging, just accepting whatever would come. He screamed at her. Belittled her. Called her useless, stupid, even said she did it on purpose to spite him. It was only when he became violent that I stepped in, grabbing his arm as he drew back to strike her.

"Please don't be angry with her sire." I spoke out of turn. "I'm the one who forgot." William turned to me with a look of pure rage. He grabbed both sides of my head, pulling me inches from his face.