I, Slave

I was, in short, ready to be a slave.

My hands were still tied behind me. After a short time aloft, the blouse and blazer of my ersatz schoolgirl uniform were pushed down by the wind and were snapping like tattered flags around my shoulders. My skirt beat my thighs raw until it ripped free and fluttered away down into the sea. After the green land had turned into a blue smear on the horizon and, finally, an indistinct gray line, the deep blue water beneath me grew lighter and greener. Suddenly, it gave way to sand and trees.

The pilot flew low over the land. I lived from breath to breath as I waited to be torn in half by a tall palm or dashed against an outcropping of rock. But when we banked over a clearing the resort compound -- my new home - finally swung into view below.

I saw a loose cluster of low buildings; all one or two stories tall with red tile roofs and stucco exteriors. Lawns and gardens filled the spaces between the structures and a jungle of palm trees ringed the area. On one of the bigger lawns, I saw a ring of people awaiting my arrival. There were about a dozen of them standing in the bright sun with a smaller group off to the side lounging under a canopy. The ring of people didn't look up as they cowered and shielded their faces from the helicopter's downdraft. I realized as we drew closer that they were women, nude women, awaiting my arrival. As I was lowered into their center they approached me and took me in their hands. I kicked at my leg braces as they released me at last.

I looked up, wanting to gaze into the other girl's faces, eager for a sly look or a gentle nod to let me know "Oh, it's not so bad. This is all just for show." But the empty eyes of the other women avoided mine entirely. They held me fast so I couldn't move at all. A raven haired woman with cold gray eyes approached. Her body was that of a goddess, with hard-sculpted abs and big, round breasts. She wore a see-though black mesh bodysuit and walked up gracefully in wicked black heels; no small feat on the soft lawn.

"You are Seventy-Seven?" she said tersely.

"Yes."

Her hands hand been at her side as she walked up and I hadn't noticed the riding crop. With a quick swish she snapped it up between my legs. I cried out in pain. A dozen feminine hands held me tighter as I squirmed.

"I am to be addressed as Mistress Black!"

"Yes, Mistress Black."

"What is your name, slave?"

"Seventy-Seven, Mistress Black."

"Open your mouth."

I obeyed. A plastic ball was shoved between my teeth. She leaned in to reach around my head and strap it on tightly. Her breasts pushed into my face as she did so. She regarded me coldly when she finished.

"The hood," she said to someone over my left shoulder and a black cloth bag was pulled down over my head.

My legs were bound tightly together and I was lifted and carried away. I felt the sun give way to shade and the hot, damp air give way to cool and dry as I was brought inside. I was placed on a thin cushion and I felt myself being enclosed in a box or casket. After the terrible noise of the ride over the sea it seemed so impossibly quiet. I sobbed briefly before falling asleep. I was completely exhausted.

I was awaked by the sound of whatever box I was in being opened. Strong masculine hands grabbed my arms and lifted me up. My ankles and wrists where unbound, my tattered clothes cut away until I was naked but for my hood and ball-gag.

I stood for a long time naked and hooded with my arms at my side. I heard no sound. Nothing kept me from moving. Nothing kept me from lifting my hood and peeking at my surroundings. But I was terrified and I was determined to do nothing until given permission or ordered directly. I did NOT want another upside down helicopter ride.

Time passed. I have no idea how much. Finally I heard a sigh in front of me and a voice spoke. It was a smooth baritone with a classy English accent. "Very pleasing. I think the girl is nearly broken. Wouldn't you agree, One?"

A woman's voice answered from behind me. A haughty contralto, it too was flavored with a pleasant English lilt. "Yes Master. She is most certainly ready."

"Very well. Let's see her face."

The bag was pulled from my head. I was in a dimly lit room paneled in mahogany, furnished in sienna leather and trimmed in gold. Before me sat a middle aged man sitting in a carved ebony throne and swaddled in a red satin robe. He was a big man, tall and thickly built. His head was shaven bald but his feathery gray eyebrows and elaborate curled mustaches made up for the deficit of hair on his scalp. His eyes were a piercing deep turquoise blue. They fixed me with an intense gaze.

"She's a pretty one. A little disheveled from the ride over, but she'll clean up nicely," he said. "Wouldn't you agree, One?"

The woman strode around in front of me. She had long straight hair so blond it was almost white. She wore a white bustier and white corset attached to sheer white hose by lacy white garters. Her shoes were white high heeled pumps. She wore no panties and her bare pubis showed a "I" tattooed in the dead center. She inspected me coldly while nodding her reluctant approval.

"So young... poor thing," said One with a dry laugh. "She'll be quite busy."

"Take her gag off," ordered the Master.

"One" unbuckled my ball gag. It felt so good to close my mouth again.

"What is your name?" asked One.

"I am Seventy-Seven, Mistress...," I made a guess at what to call this woman. Since the other Mistress was Mistress Black the choice seemed obvious. "Mistress White."

"Oh. We've got a clever one."

"Yes. Apparently she was something of a scholar," said the Master. "I certainly hope she doesn't get any smart ideas that might get her into trouble."

"Well, I for one hopes she gets into a little trouble. She looks delightful to punish. See how meek she is. She's about to tremble out of her own skin."

"Do not bore me with your wishes, One," growled the Master. "Just teach the new slave her positions so we may begin."

Mistress White had a riding crop, of course, and she wasn't afraid to use it as she brusquely showed me the basic positions of subservience. They were, basically: kneeling at ease, kneeling at attention, on hands and knees, forehead on floor with my butt in the air, on my back with my legs cast wide and a few variations of the previously listed poses. She taught me the positions and then barked orders for me to swap from one to the other as the Master watched intently. As always, I was a quick study.

"Very good, number One. Very, very good, Seventy-Seven. One might think you were born for this life."

I said nothing, I remained in the sitting kneeling position - "at ease", as it was called - with my eyes cast low. Mistress White snapped her riding crop across my breasts. "The Master has bestowed a complement on you. Thank him, you stupid girl!" she barked.

"Thank you Master. Very much, Master."

Master explained the rules of the resort. Essentially, it was this: I was to live to please him and what pleased him most was if his guests were pleased. I was to do whatever was ordered by the guests unless specifically instructed to do otherwise by The Master. The hierarchy at the resort was The Master at the top, then the guests, the two Mistresses and the four male lieutenants. Below all those people were the slaves like me. We were to do as we were told and keep quiet unless directly addressed. There was one other category of people around the resort, "the help" - gardeners, handymen, chefs, etc - but to us they did not exist. We were not to interact with them nor they with us. Never.

Master said that punishments would be severe and inventive. He said no more about that.

"Do you understand, Slave Seventy-Seven?"

"Yes Master. Thank you Master."

"Very good. One, get her ready."

Mistress White -- "One", as Master called her - ordered me into the position she called "present". It was the one where I rest on my elbows on a table, chair or whatever with my feet on the floor, my legs straight and wide. She had me "present" on a deeply padded ottoman so my butt was sticking way up into the air. The muscles in my legs, still sore from the flight over, ached as they stretched and strained to accept this new position.

She began pouring warm oil onto my bottom, rubbing it into my skin and dipping her fingers inside my anus. Starting with a slick finger she probed into me then added more fingers as I squirmed silently beneath her invasion. The sensation was uncomfortable but also more than a little enticing. My mind reeled in a confused and impotent panic.

She backed off and moved around to stand over the ottoman where I rested my weight on my forearms and chin. I looked up. She was grinning at me with a wicked smirk. Before I could anticipate what new humiliations they were planning for me, she was throwing a leg over the ottoman to sit directly in front of me. Her bare vulva parted for me as she scooted up to my face. I could see and smell that she was wet.

A cupped palm slapped across my ass. I squirmed in terror. I knew what was coming. Sure enough, Master said, "Taste your Mistress, Seventy-Seven."

I hesitated. I'd never, never done anything like that before. Sure, my best friend Julie and I used to practice kissing when we were kids - what girl hasn't? - but that had been innocent exploration. To put my mouth on another woman's sex, well, it was a horrifying step. However Mistress White was not interested in my reluctance. She brought her riding crop behind my head and pulled me into her silky folds.

"You might was well learn to love this, slave. You'll be doing a lot of it," she said as my lips met hers.

So I began my first foray into cunnilingus. I kissed her lightly on her vulva but that was not enough for my Mistress. She reached forward and snapped me hard on my upturned ass with her riding crop as she faulted my technique. I extended my tongue and began tracing her labia and the damp creases between. Her pussy smelled of incipient sex and feminine desire, much like my recent taste of my own moisture on the German's cock. She cooed her approval as my tongue roamed her increasingly slippery folds. I moved to her clit and began working around and across it with my lips and tongue, doing what I thought might feel good for her. She melted back into the cushion of the ottoman; the silent shuddering of her body against my tongue was all the encouragement I required as I grew rapidly more invested in the business of granting pleasure to my superiors.

Thick fingers were on my womanhood: playing with my lips, testing my surprising wetness, dipping into my body and tickling up from my vagina to my anus. My hips swayed and rocked back as I gave myself over to the storm of pleasure. When Master's manhood entered my sex I came with a suddenness that shocked me. But when Master laughed and gently patted my bottom, it was as if God himself had smiled on me.

"Yes," he said. "She'll do quite well."

Master didn't grace my vagina with his presence for very long. Soon he was pushing at my sphincter with his fat, hard cock. I gasped in fear as he began to force me open. I nearly forgot to attend to Mistress White's clit as I struggled to accept him into my guts, but she corrected my lapse with a sharp slap of her riding crop across my lower back. I redoubled my efforts on her clit as Master pried me open with his shaft. Finally he began pumping into me more easily. From what was a blur of pain and discomfort a spectrum of intense pleasure bloomed within me. I felt myself slipping towards another climax. When he began spanking me with hard strokes of his hand while he penetrated me vigorously it was too much. I came again. "She comes so easily, this one," said my Master with bemusement.

My Master climaxed. Seizing up suddenly and grasping my hips in both strong hands, his breath caught in his throat and his body rocked into me as he pumped my colon full of his essence. Mistress White held me firmly against her pubis as Master pumped the last of his shuddering pleasure into my body. When he was finished he backed away. Mistress White told me to stand as she pulled herself up off the ottoman.

"Clean her up and get her ready," said Master. I looked at him with big eyes, looking for another morsel of approval but he was cold now. He turned and left the room as he pulled on his robe.

"Pay attention slave," barked Mistress White as she hit me across the ass. "It's almost time for your initiation."

5. The Grooming

Mistress White walked me out through a set of heavy wooden doors and down a short hallway decorated to match The Master's chambers. We approached a lieutenant in black leather slacks and a tight black tee-shirt who stood on guard at the end of the corridor. He was one of the men from the van, the one with the dark eyes and black, curly hair. He smirked knowingly at Mistress White. She ignored him.

"Did the Big Guy notice we reserved first poke in the ass for him this time?"

"You haven't been fired, Ian," said Mistress White coldly. "So I suppose he must've."

Lieutenant Ian opened his mouth but thought better of it and said nothing. As we passed him and entered the room beyond I could feel his eyes boring into me, sizing me up for another foray into my flesh at some later time. My stomach gave a little lurch when I realized that I would have no recourse to stop him or his comrades when they came for me.

The room beyond was circular and dimly lit. Around the outer wall was a series of small, barred cages. They were all empty right now. Towards the center were racks and boxes and chains and what looked like iron grated lids to couple of dark oubliettes beneath the floor.

Mistress Black was waiting for us. She was lounging on a red suede chaise and reading a leather-bound book. On either side of the chaise, two nude women knelt at attention on the floor, facing away from her. They looked me over without emotion. One was a big-boned dirty blonde with a small face in a large head. The other was a scrawny, flat-nosed Asian with dull, inattentive eyes. Each had a little tattoo on their bare pubis. Big Bones had a "LXXI"; Flat Nose had a "LXVIII".

"Here's the new one," said Mistress White. "She's pretty obedient but she's clever, so watch her close."

Mistress Black hadn't looked up. She finished what she was reading and put the book down slowly. She said, "Clever? We'll just see about that."

"Stand up Twenty-Two," sneered White. "You may be a Mistress but I still outrank you."

Black stood slowly. Her face was insolent but her voice obsequious. "As you command, Mistress White."

They stared at each other. White took two steps forward and slapped Black hard across the face. "I will have your respect," she said. Big Bones and Flat Nose cowered where they knelt, terrified the argument might end up involving them somehow.

Black lowered herself to her knees. "I apologize, my Mistress."

White put a foot forward. "My heel, Twenty-Two."

Black said nothing. She lowered herself to the floor and began wrapping her tongue around White's wickedly lofty heel. She licked and kissed it like she was fellating the thing.

"Enough," said White, pushing Black's face away with the tip of her pump. "You have work to do," she said nodding towards me. "Do it." She turned and left the room.

Mistress Black didn't get up off the floor until White was gone. As she rose she fixed me with a fierce stare. Her pale gray eyes looked almost white in the dim light. Her glare made me look away. On her feet again, she towered above me. She began walking in a tight orbit around me and extended a wickedly manicured fingernail to scratch latitudinal lines in my skin as she slowly circled me. The sensation provoked goose bumps across my flesh.

"She thinks she's in charge because she's Master's little princess," she said. "But I'm the one you need to worry about. She's too soft with you pigs, but not me. I run this stable and if you don't jump when I order you to, you are going to have a very hard life here. Do you understand that, Pig?"

"Yes, Mistress Black," I said. I tried to keep my voice from trembling.

"So, why are you here, Pig?"

"I need money for College, Mistress. Princeton, Mistress," I added proudly, stupidly.

"And you really think you're going to get out of here someday?" she asked softly.

I threw a panicked look at her. I saw the corner of her mouth twitch with a curtailed grin. Was she toying with me?

"If it pleases my Mistress," I said, looking straight ahead while struggling to keep my cool.

"Hmf," she grunted. She turned to the two kneeling women and said "Douche; enema; now!" They scurried off.

As I squirmed at the idea of those two douching me and giving me an enema, Mistress Black grabbed my jaw and pulled my face to hers. She spoke with spittle flecked intensity, saying, "I already don't like you lil' Miss Ivy League. You think you've got a great little plan, and you're just passing through on your way to some Princeton Paradise but you're too stupid to realize how far in over your head you are."

I tried looking fierce as I stared back but I felt a mounting anxiety welling up within me. When she held up a rubber contraption - a ball gag with a thick, veiny phallus projecting forward - I cowered back a step. She laughed. "Open your stupid mouth," she ordered.

I did as I was told. I accepted the dildo-ball-gag as she strapped it to my head. She sank down onto her chaise lounge, threw her legs wide and ordered me onto my hands and knees. I dared not resist as she pulled me to her. I watched in dreadful close-up as the shaft sticking from my mouth was guided into Mistress Black's gaping vagina. The wet, ruby-tinged flaps of her vulva slapped into my face as she began fucking me lustily. My nose was positioned perfectly to prod her clitoris on each thrust and she rode me to one vocal orgasm after another. Soon her thick, silky juices were running down my face and neck, dripping from my jaw line, streaking my breasts with rivulets of glossy slime.

Meanwhile, behind me, the two other slaves were cleaning me from the inside out. The douche wasn't so bad but I had to struggle desperately not to let go of gut-busting enema as Black wrapped her legs around my head and rode my face to a third orgasm. When she finally pushed me away and my two fellow slaves guided me to a chamber pot where I could release my bowels, the relief felt as divine as any orgasm.

"Very well," said Mistress Black to two slaves. "Take that thing out of her mouth. It's time for her bath."

The two slaves removed my gag and pulled me to my feet. As Mistress Black barked orders they bound me. My wrists were tied together in front of me, hooked to a cord hanging from the ceiling and hoisted up over my head. Leather cuffs were then attached to each of my ankles. The left was shackled to a ring bolt in the floor. The right was fastened to another strap hanging from the ceiling. This was raised until my leg was suspended above the level of my hips. It took a fearsome degree of concentration to keep for losing my balance. It was like yoga except that Mistress Black kept snapping me in the ass, breasts and vulva with a slim, yard long bamboo cane. It was painful. I clenched my tongue in my teeth to keep from crying out. Occasionally I tasted blood.

Trapped in that awkward position, I was bathed. The two girls soaped and rinsed every inch of my body with large sea-sponges and soapy, lavender scented water. Their touches on my quivering, straining muscles were pleasurable and mixed strangely with the awful cramps that were clawing up and down my legs. When Mistress Black snapped me in the back of my left knee with her cane, it buckled. I was left hanging in my bonds as she shouted at me, struck me and called me a clumsy pig. The other girls had to help me back onto my foot.