George is Maid to Serve

Set in the same world as A Slave Under Contract, but with a different theme.

"Do you agree, then, George?" asked Melinda.

George stammered and stuttered, trying to get his words out. That this beautiful goddess should have asked him to be her slave for a full year, well, it was more than he could have hoped for. They would go together to the enslavement centre and he would become hers from that moment onwards. Their secret liaisons would cease and she could acknowledge her dominion over him in public – women like her preferred to own a male properly before telling their friends – or so she had told him.

The contract was carefully drawn up; so long as she owned him, he would be fully naked only in private, and allowed access to his cock for an orgasm at least once a week. She had explained it all to him, helping him understand the trickier clauses. After a year, he could go back to being a free male, and find out where his life took him. Why would he ever say no?

"I agree!" he almost yelled to her.

"Good boy. I know I don't own you until you sign the contract, but please start calling me mistress in any case. OK?"

"Yes, um. Mistress."

"Then let's go."

Melinda leaned in and kissed the slim boy on the lips, lingering over it so that his cock swelled in his tight jeans. George had met her in the college where he studied applied sciences; as a male he could study for up to three years and graduate to become an assistant to a female scientist. Melinda was a postgraduate, destined for great things, and it wasn't uncommon for such women to take a male undergraduate as a slave. They had known each other just a month, having met not long after George had started his course. George was proud to have been picked out of the crowd by her.

Melinda was a demanding lover and a powerful intellect. George was happy that she wanted him to continue studying while she owned him, though he knew he could never reach her heights. It would be fun to reveal what had happened; we would enjoy the jealous looks the other males gave him once he was under her control. They boarded the monorail together, hands gripped tight, and made the short journey to the centre on the edge of town.

"How long were you a slave for before, George?"

"Just three months. Mistress. But I did the full training, so I'll be ready to serve you the moment we sign."

"I know that, George. Even if you were untrained, I'd still want to enslave you today. You fetched a very nice price for the three months you were enslaved for – I've checked the records, those that aren't sealed, I mean. I'm getting quite the bargain, aren't I?"

"I hope so, mistress. I'm so looking forward to serving you."

"Good boy. Are you happy with the contract?"

"Oh yes, mistress. Thank you for suggesting I should include my limits – I was so nervous to suggest it but you just saw right through that."

"Of course, George. Of course. Why did you only do three months before?"

"I have a submissive personality – according to the tests – but I didn't want to be a slave. The doctors told me it caused a conflict in my mind, and they mandated some slavery as a way to correct it."

"Did it work?"

"I felt better once I'd got over the shock. Lately I'd been having the dark thoughts again. Until you came along! I'm so glad we met."

"How could anyone resist your boyish charms? I'm glad we met too. Well, here we are, no turning back now."

Melinda led George by his sweaty hand through the entrance to the enslavement centre. The receptionist greeted her like an old friend – did they know each other? Melinda seemed to know everyone in this town, including some very powerful women. She told the receptionist why they were there – for George to surrender to her, subject to contract. The receptionist scanned George's microchip and looked through his files. George wondered nervously how much she could see – could she access his sealed list of desires from his first enslavement?

"George, I see you've been a slave before so you know how this goes. Please read out the highlighted sections in the contract, then confirm for the recording that you understand them."

"Yes, miss. I, George Freeman-Klein, volunteer to become a slave for a period of one year, beginning today. I agree to be owned from the moment of enslavement by Mistress Melinda Armitage, who is present here today. I agree to follow the orders of my owner, subject to the following limitations. While I am the property of Mistress Melinda, I will not be shown naked in public. While I am the property of Mistress Melinda, I will have the right to sexual release at least once a week, consisting of fifteen minutes of access to my penis in which I will be allowed to masturbate to orgasm.

"While I am the property of Mistress Melinda, I will serve only her – I will not serve any other woman in a sexual or other fashion. The limitations of my slavery include-"

"You don't actually need to read that bit – look, it's not highlighted. Melinda Armitage, do you accept this slave subject to the limits specified in the contract?"

"Well, I don't know-" she said, while George's heart skipped a beat. "George, why don't we add some extra thrill?"

"What do you mean? Um, sorry, what do you mean, mistress?"

"Well, why don't we add the option for me to add, oh, erm, an extra year to your contract? If I want to? Still the same terms, but think how exciting it would be not to know when your finish date really was!"

"I don't know, mistress. Two years is a long time."

"Don't you want to be my slave?"

"Oh, yes."

"So it wouldn't seem like a long time, would it? We could have twice the fun. I do so hope you're not having doubts, I'd be terribly sad if you were."

George thought it over while Melinda stood, her earnest smile masking a little concern. George didn't want to disappoint her, but two years felt like it might push him over a limit. He remembered his first foray into slavery, how at times it had seemed like it could almost become an addiction. But then he just couldn't get over the humiliation his mistress had inflicted on him, even if she'd never made him go to the limits of his desires. His real desires. Would Melinda do that? He trusted her – she wouldn't. She didn't even know most of them.

"OK, mistress. One year with the option for you to extend my slavery by an additional year."

The receptionist handed them forms and asked them both to read the declarations out loud, then thumbprint in front of a witness. After that, there was just the matter of the high-tech slave collar, which sealed tight around George's neck as his cock sprang to life. Melinda hugged him tight then told him to strip naked. They were in a private building, so it was within the contract. George felt like he'd made a stupid mistake in only specifying no nudity in public, but when he went to explain this to Melinda, she used his new slave collar to mute his vocal cords.

"Get naked now, slaveboy. I'm going to give you something to wear before we leave, but I want you out of the clothes of a free male. Not naked doesn't mean not looking like a slave. There, good boy. Just leave them here, the enslavement centre will dispose of them. No more normal clothes for you. Now, put these on, and these on your feet... Oh, that's much better."

George blushed deep red. He now wore only a pair of leather hotpants and a matching pair of black boots. The receptionist had watched him get undressed, smiling wickedly as the last of his clothes left his body. At least now he had something on, even if it did show the bulge of his cock. They weren't the clothes he was wearing in his deepest fantasies – his fears had stopped him telling even Melidna about those. Satisfied with her new slave's appearance, Melinda locked his hands behind his back and clipped a leash to his collar, then led them back to the monorail.

She made George blush again by having him kneel before her and kiss her feet while they waited for the train. It was a common sight, but it felt different when George was the one doing it. On the train, Melinda had George kneel in the aisle – he hoped this was just a rush of power for her, and that soon she would become the caring mistress she had seemed like before.

The train sped past their usual stop at the university and on into the centre of the city. George made to ask where they were going, but found his vocal cords still disabled. Melinda ignored his gestures asking her to unmute him, but became increasingly cross with him as he pleaded. He saw her make a decision, and she quickly drew him up across her lap.

"Only bad slaves ask for things they're not allowed. I shall now spank you for your discourtesy."

George had no right or ability to resist as Melinda spanked him over the hotpants, drawing admiring looks from the other mistresses on the train. Tears started to flow. George searched his feelings – he had expected them to be tears of humiliation. Instead, they were tears of release. He needed this, deep down – that must have been why he misbehaved. Melinda was taking care of him, after all. Maybe she would be the one he finally told his real needs.

Melinda's strong hand reddened George's bottom for three long minutes, ceasing when they reached their stop. They were in the downtown area popular for buying slave accessories – and slaves themselves. George wondered where she was taking him – perhaps to buy some equipment and clothing. He was keen to comply with this part – in his mind he feasted on a banquet of fantasies of what they might do together. Should he ask her to go to the shop he browsed online so often? Not yet. He had to get comfortable in his new role first.

Melinda led them past the slave boutiques he had heard of, deeper into the heart of the city – the slave markets. George pulled against his leash, making Melinda's eyes flash with anger as she was brought to a halt. Without a word, she triggered the shock commands in his collar, racking George's body with jolts of searing pain. He was astonished at how high a setting she had used, and went along willingly after that – he dared not stop.

"Look at this, slaveboy," said Melinda, holding up a tablet computer so he could see it, "I just extended you to two years. Thank you for agreeing to that. I'm sure you'll enjoy the extra time – this is the life you were made for, really. Silly of you to pretend to be a free male. And now, slave, here we are! Oh, the look on your face. Here, let me take a picture."

Melinda tugged the panicking slaveboy's leash through the door of the private auction house. With the terrible shock collar an ever-present threat, and his hands locked behind his back, he could do nothing to resist. It would be meaningless anyway – he had only the legal rights enshrined in his contract, and what Melinda was doing now ... was within them.

The realisation turned his stomach. Melinda had worded the contract just to her liking. He'd never seen the trap in it – there were conditions of slavery set down while she owned him, but nothing to say she couldn't sell him, and nothing to keep those conditions once she had. All he'd be left with was his general limits – thank the goddess those were in a separate section.

"I'm here to sell this slaveboy," said Melinda to the buyer waiting near the door.

"Of course, please have him bend over while I scan his microchip. Resisting are we? How cute. Guards, bondage for this male!"

"Now we're in private, you may as well take those boots and hotpants off at the same time, please."

The guards were rough and ready, knocking George to his knees then pinning him to the floor while they stripped him. He squirmed against their rough hands on his most intimate parts – they laughed at his display of helplessness. When they let go of him, his legs had been hobbled on a short chain and a pain ring locked around his balls. It washed all thoughts of escape clear from his mind – all he could do was to breathe through the jolts and try to hear what was happening to him.

"Hi, Melinda, if you'll just bring your slaveboy through to the examination area, one of our doctors will inspect the goods and ask you some questions. Then we can negotiate on the price."

A doctor poked and prodded George all over his naked, lean body, even measuring his cock and the size of his insides – to see how big a strapon he could take. The details were added to his slave profile. The doctor slipped off the pain ring on his balls – he tried to thank her with his eyes – and then his memory went blank. He knew that happened when the truth drug was administered – his responses to all kinds of probing questions would have been recorded and uploaded for prospective buyers to see. George had all kinds of secret fetishes – and now every last one of them was public. He came round from the drug, still woozy and faint, to find himself chained naked to a bed, with Melinda towering over him.

"Hi slaveboy! I sold you! Thanks a million for this – I need the credits so badly, and you were so discreet about our little fling, I can go straight back to the college and seduce another male to sell. Letting me add the extra year was just too kind – I'd have enslaved you even if you hadn't. Well, see you around, and good luck. You've made me so happy, and now you get to make someone else happy too! It's a win-win."

She sauntered off – good riddance – and George took in his surroundings. He was in a side room of the auction house's little clinic, where they put slaves to recover from the truth drug. It trickled out of his bloodstream and he came back to full consciousness. When the last of the serum had cleared his system, he was stood up and had his hands and legs quickly shackled again – he hoped that such cruel treatment would last only until he was bought. A burly female guard led him to the slave cages and locked him in.

"Goodnight, GK-M-4" she said.

"Huh?" said George, finding they had unmuted him.

"Your old name was stripped from you. We sell slaves with numerical designations only – helps new owners see they can reshape you how they like. Within your contract."

"But, but, can I appeal?"

"Ha! Against being sold, you mean? Oh goodness no, slaveboy. Your contract wasn't exclusive. Doesn't matter if you thought it was – your former owner was so amused she let me read it. You've got no right of appeal, so don't even try. The penalty for wasting the court's time is an additional six months added to your contract, and a very painful whipping. Go to sleep or stay awake – I don't care. Goodbye now: slave collar, mute."

George couldn't submit to losing his name; he decided to rebel just a little and keep thinking of himself by it, even if it made him a worse slave. George looked around him, seeing naked male and female bodies of all types, all collared, all caged, all muted. All to be sold the next day. He sat down on the bed and tried to work out what to do. He had signed the contract in good faith, thinking he could be owned only by Melinda. Could he appeal? They would argue he was intelligent enough to understand the contract's terms – which he was – and that he'd clearly read it out and stated he'd understood it.

Melinda's betrayal hung heavy on George's shoulders. She had seemed like the one for him, but it had been such an act, a classic case of a mature woman taking advantage of a silly innocent boy. He was a fool not to have seen it coming. George had no real friends at the university – he knew Melinda would get away with it, would be able to move on carefree to her next victim. Perhaps she did this all the time. George slumped down on the bed. What he could now but wait?

The slavegirl in the next cage drew George's attention by tapping on the bars. She mouthed silent words to him – why so sad? He mouthed back – owner betrayed me. She frowned, exaggerating the sadness into silliness and breaking it with an incredible smile. George looked her over – she had curves to die for – he thought about curves a lot. To go with them, she had juicy round breasts, with a head of close-cropped black hair and jet black skin. His cock grew hard at the sight of her and she licked her lips at the sight of it.

The slavegirl held George's gaze while she backed up and sat down on her own bed. Wetting a finger, she opened her legs and started masturbating, with slow fluid motions on her clit. She pointed at his cock and made a wanking motion, inviting him to join her. George had no idea if the woman who bought him would allow him an orgasm for the whole two years of his contract. It was now or never, then. Holding the slavegirl's eyes, he dropped to his knees and took his cock in his hand, trying to pretend there was no one else in the room but them. He could only ever cum in a submissive pose like this.

They masturbated together, eyes locked, responding to each other's encouragement. George saw compassion in the slavegirl's gaze, but a playful cheekiness too. He wondered if she wanted to be here or if she had simply decided to make the best of it. Either way, just like him, she was going to be sold tomorrow.

The slavegirl came first. George watched her body as it was wracked with silent ecstasy. She writhed and bucked on the little bed, while her fingers made lazy circles around her clit. With her legs wide open, George savoured every sight of the slavegirl's completely exposed orgasm, and she clearly enjoyed having him watch.

George was trying hard to cum but kept getting distracted by the other slaves in the room. The slavegirl noticed and stood, padding over to the bars that separated them and beckoning him to come closer. George shuffled towards her on his knees and she reached a hand through the gap. Without warning, she grabbed his hair and held him hard against the metal poles. She twisted his head so he was looking up into her eyes and mouthed the words he needed – I order you to cum.

George could never get there without some real or imagined dominance. He felt so grateful to the curvy girl treating him like the piece of property he was, and the reminder of his new status sent him over the edge. Thick jets of cum streaked out of his cock and hit the slavegirl's legs and feet, while George was lost in the submissive world inside his mind. To submit was his great pleasure. He leaned on the bars and felt the warm of the slavegirl's thigh on his face while the last pulses of the orgasm went through him.

He looked up into her eyes and motioned his thanks. She waved them away – happy to help – and took a taste of the cum on her leg, acting like a naughty girl who'd been caught enjoying something she shouldn't. George was relieved to find kindness among his fellow slaves, and when the slave traders switched off the lights, his heart was filled with the hope the slavegirl had given him. Perhaps someone similarly kind would buy him. The last thought in his mind was the slavegirl's curvy hips. He envied her those.

*********

In the early morning light, the troupe of naked slaves were awoken by their jailors and fed a good, hot breakfast in the grand refectory. In all, twenty-three slaves were to be sold that day, for the most part general pleasure and service slaves like George. The staff of the auction house washed each slave down, checking for even a single stray body hair and making sure each slave was smooth and lightly oiled.

When each had reached a satisfactory standard, they were led out into the display area, a grand room filled with chains, frames and cages, all bathed in light from the glass roof. George was displayed in the centre of the room, chained up in a frame so that the crowd of women browsing could have complete access to his body. A screen displayed his summary stats, while on a little pedestal there was a box of disposable rubber gloves. Without his willing it, his uncaged cock grew long and hard, and he found was breathing faster and faster, his heart rate climbing ever higher.